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Relations between France and England have rarely looked brighter. The recent loan of the Bayeux tapestry has become a symbol of a renewed friendship between the two countries, evidenced further by the numerous smiles exchanged on the occasion between prime minister Andy Burnham and French president Emmanuel Macron. A new book released in France at the start of this month, however, could soon darken the sunny skies of a revitalised entente cordiale.
In Code Yesterday, author Michel Bussi proposes that every single song credited to the Beatles was in fact written by a woman … of French descent.
Before you clench your fists in anger, rest assured: Code Yesterday is a work of fiction. “I hope British people have a good sense of humour,” says Bussi, sitting in the garden of his house near Rouen on a sunny morning.
Bussi is one of France’s most successful thriller writers, whose books have sold in the millions and been turned into several films. Seven years ago, he wrote J’ai dû rêver trop fort (“I must have been dreaming too hard”), which drew its inspiration from the story of American folk singer Sixto Rodriguez. His latest, he says, is the outcome of a lifelong fascination with the Fab Four, or the garçons dans le vent as they are called on his side of the Channel.
“I discovered them through my older sister and the red and blue compilations when I was eight. A little later my sister came home with The White Album, and I assumed it was a third compilation, and could not figure out why it had all these songs that were already on the other two,” he remembers, laughing. While his desire to write a story around the most iconic of rock bands was something he’s envisioned for years, his starting point came from an observation: “There are absolutely no women among all of the classic rock bands. Things have changed, thankfully, but for a long time, rock was exclusively a male thing. So I wanted to give them a revenge.” That’s how his plot began. And Bussi went all in.
According to his story, a certain Yvonne McKenzie (a relation to “Father McKenzie” in Eleanor Rigby is implied) meets John and Paul near St Peter’s church on 6 July 1957, the same fateful day the pair first run into each other. Yvonne, a customs inspector born in Normandy to a French mother and an English paratrooper and raised on Liverpool’s Penny Lane, develops a crush on them both. Hurt by their indifference, she one day starts humming a song while sat in front of the young McCartney on the bus: Love Me Do.
Macca can’t get the tune out of his head and has no qualms about passing it off as his own. When Yvonne hears it on the radio for the first time, she is overwhelmed, and when John and Paul come back to her to ask for more, she happily obliges. The collaboration that ensues is unconventional but professional: Yvonne sings melodies to them over the phone, they add middle-eights and vocal layers and churn out hits.
The feedback on I Feel Fine? According to Bussi’s novel, that’s inspired by one of Yvonne’s household appliances interfering with the phone line. The rattle-and-shake of Can’t Buy Me Love? A rhythm she came up with while whisking an egg. “Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da”? The first syllables uttered by her newborn son, of course.
As a female songwriter of humble origins in the 1960s, Yvonne is resigned to remaining faceless. “However awkward my story may seem,” says Bussi, “it’s entirely credible that a female songwriter at that time would only have been able get her songs heard if they were sung by good-looking boys”.
The only thing she demands in exchange for her silence is that the Fab Four include in their oeuvre a few nods to her French origins – hence La Marseillaise in the first bars of All You Need is Love, and Michelle, a tribute to her mother, Micheline.
Bussi’s says his wild fantasy is supported by years of deep-diving into books, movies and documentaries. His favourite records are Rubber Soul and Revolver, “where you hear an energy that was still pure and simple, they go experimental yet remain accessible”. He retains a deep fascination with the many myths surrounding the scouse quartet, and his story touches on many of the more mysterious aspects of the Beatles story, such as the deaths of Stuart Sutcliffe and Brian Epstein.
In the novel, a grumpy old rock critic (and ardent Stones fan) backs Yvonne when she decides to tell her side of the story. And just as the whole country starts to believe her – in spite of a MI5 disinformation campaign – there’s a twist in the tale and Bussi’s outrageous story makes some kind of sense after all.
To the author, Code Yesterday is above all a homage to the enduring charm of the Beatles’ music. The novel’s central premise may stretch credulity, but it demonstrates that the Beatles’ appeal – especially the wild romanticism of the early years – is so universal precisely because their songs could just as well have been written by or about a woman.
“What I find fascinating is that they have this image of nice-looking boys, yet they did things that were much bolder than artists who are considered avant garde,” Bussi says. He pauses for a second, then adds: “I was pretty happy to come up with the part of Yvonne’s French ancestry, it was good fun. But let’s be honest, we French people are nowhere near as good as the English when it comes to rock music.” No hard feelings, then. France might even get the Bayeux tapestry back.
