James Bond and the Beatles at war for Britain’s soul

‘Better use your sense,’ advised Bob Dylan: ‘take what you have gathered from coincidence.’ John Higgs is a master of taking what he can gather from coincidence – or, as he would insist, synchronicity. From the filigree of connections and echoes in the KLF (Discordianism through the lens of 1990s pop provocateurs) to the psychogeography of Watling Street to more recent deep dives into William Blake, he confronts the modern Matter of Britain: who wields power, and who resists it?

Love and Let Die starts with another perfect coincidence, namely that it was 60 years ago – to be precise, 5 October 1962 – that saw the first Beatles single appear in shops and the first James Bond film appear in cinemas. From this, Higgs conjures a whole cultural history of the past six decades, as the parallel stories of Bond and the Beatles cross over, contrast with, quarrel with and occasionally enhance each other.

From the dual release of ‘Love Me Do’ and Dr. No, the protagonists keep rubbing up against each other. Help!, the Beatles’ second film, is essentially a Bond homage. Paul McCartney resurrected a dead-in-the-water solo career with a Bond theme. Ringo Starr married Barbara Bach, The Spy Who Loved Me’s Major Anya Amasova. The agent, for his part, was snootier. ‘My dear girl,’ Bond tells Jill Masterson in Goldfinger, ‘there are some things that just aren’t done, such as drinking Dom Perignon ’53 above the temperature of 38 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s just as bad as listening to the Beatles without earmuffs.’ But, as Higgs notes, the character

knew exactly which restaurant, tailor or brand of vermouth was the finest, and always insisted on having the very best for himself. But his mastery only extends to the material world, and music, along with the emotions it generates, are [sic] immaterial.