AN ENDLESS 'SUBMARINE' LOOP
REJECTED: DECEMBER 2010

Wednesday, Dec. 8, 2010 marked the 30^th anniversary of the day John Lennon was shot and killed as he returned home to the Dakota. That day the papers, airwaves and Internet brimmed, naturally, with tender remembrances of the soulful, peace-seeking Beatle.

“This would have been the 70^th birthday year for John if only he were here,” Yoko Ono wrote in an Op-Ed in the Times. “But people are not questioning if he is here or not. They just love him and are keeping him alive with their love.”

A few weeks earlier, the Apple company had found another way to keep Lennon alive: by finally striking a deal with the Beatles and offering the band’s entire studio discography (or MP3-ography, really) on iTunes.

Within a week, some 2 million Beatles songs had been downloaded and John’s son, Julian, claimed to be among the downloaders.

"We love the Beatles and are honored and thrilled to welcome them to iTunes," Apple’s CEO Steve Jobs said at the time.

Beatle love once again seemed to be all you needed – and could be had for $1.29 per track.

But not everyone was feeling it. At the Apple store in SoHo on that Wednesday of the anniversary, at least one employee was instead feeling murderous rage. If she had to hear “Yellow Submarine” one more time, Lola said, there might be trouble. (We’ll call her Lola because, she told me, company policy forbids employees from speaking to the press.)

“I could see the whole staff just snapping and going on a rampage,” Lola said, sotto voce, near a MacBook Pro display. “And I like the Beatles.”

The problem for Lola and, as far as she could tell, the rest of the staff was that soon after the iTunes deal was announced, “corporate got on a plane with a Mini.”

And on that Mini iPod was a corporate-approved Beatles playlist. And on that playlist was 20 of the Beatles greatest hits. Which is to say, 20 songs that, without even trying, you’ve already heard more times than you can count. Songs like “A Hard Day’s Night,” and “Octopus’s Garden.” And, yes, “Yellow Submarine.”

A playlist not much more than an hour long. Over and over and over again. And then again.

As Lola unburdened herself of her complicated pain, John Lennon’s familiar dance suggestion came on the Apple store’s sound system, with the rest of the band responding to his calls:

“Well, shake it up, baby, now.”

“Shake it up, baby.”

“Twist and shout.”

“Twist and shout.”

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, baby, now.”

“Come on baby.”

“Come on and work it on out.”

“Work it on out.”

Lola, in her mid-20s, wearing Tina Fey eyeglasses and burgundy nail polish, rolled her eyes.

“A couple of days ago, in the morning, some non-Beatles songs suddenly came on,” she said. “Everyone who was working clapped and cheered.”

But then the playlist returned.

It isn’t only Beatles songs that can get old, Lola explained. Over the two years that she’s worked for Apple there have been any number of too-limited in selection and too-heavy in rotation corporate playlists. So there have certainly been other tunes that have made Lola want to hurt someone – but perhaps none as much as “Yellow Submarine.”

“It’s just sort of cartoony and ridiculous,” Lola said. “Especially on the four billionth listen.”

“She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah,” taunted the store’s speakers.

Lola has been living in Hoboken and very much likes her apartment. But she will be moving out on January 1. She’s headed for Jersey City.

She was already considering the move before the corporate Mini arrived at the SoHo Apple store, but the tiny device – about the size of a potato chip, with the heft of a pack of gum – did play a part in Lola’s decision.

It was a recent morning after a particularly difficult “Yellow Submarine”-ing at work and Lola was recovering in her apartment when her roommate pressed play on her iPod . Sure enough, a minute later circus brass stabbed Lola’s ears. And then the nasally chant: “We all live in a …”

“It seemed like a sign,” Lola said, struggling to grin. “I was out of there.”

—Maccabee Montandon