According to Paul, he woke up one morning with the melody fully formed in his head. He immediately rushed to his piano and played it, convinced that he had subconsciously remembered an existing song. For weeks, he played it for friends, asking if they had heard it before. No one recognized it, meaning it was his own original composition.
Initially, he used placeholder lyrics: “Scrambled eggs, oh my baby, how I love your legs.” Eventually, he refined the words into the melancholic, timeless lyrics we know today. Unlike most Beatles songs, Yesterday was recorded with only Paul singing and playing an acoustic guitar, accompanied by a string quartet—another groundbreaking decision for a pop band at the time.
It’s incredible to think that one of the most beautiful songs ever written started as a tune in a dream. It’s a testament to Paul McCartney’s genius and the way music can appear in the most unexpected ways:::▶️ Watch Now Click the article below 👇
“Yesterday”: A Dreamlike Birth of a Timeless Classic
In the vast and brilliant tapestry of The Beatles’ catalog, few songs stand out quite like “Yesterday.” It’s haunting. It’s heartfelt. And it’s one of the most covered songs in the history of recorded music. But what makes its story even more magical is how it came to life—not through intense collaboration, studio experimentation, or lyrical brainstorming, but in a dream.
According to Paul McCartney himself, the melody for “Yesterday” came to him fully formed while he was sleeping. He woke up one morning in 1964, in the attic bedroom of his then-girlfriend Jane Asher’s family home, with the tune already playing in his mind. Rushing to the piano, he began playing the haunting chords almost instinctively, fearing it was a song he had accidentally plagiarized—some half-remembered melody from a forgotten record.
“I just thought, ‘What is this?’” McCartney later recalled. “I thought for sure it had to be someone else’s.” For weeks, he played the tune for friends, fellow musicians, and producers, asking, “Have you heard this before?” But no one could place it. Eventually, he came to accept that the melody wasn’t borrowed. It was his. Purely and originally his.
In its earliest form, “Yesterday” didn’t even have its now-famous title or lyrics. Instead, Paul used placeholder words to keep the melody intact:
“Scrambled eggs, oh my baby, how I love your legs…”
It was a bit of silliness—typical Beatles humor—but behind the nonsense was a tune that would become deeply emotional and universally relatable. McCartney spent months crafting the actual lyrics, drawing from feelings of loss and longing. When he finally settled on the title “Yesterday” and the heartbroken narrative that came with it, the song transformed from a quirky idea into a masterpiece of modern songwriting.
What makes “Yesterday” even more remarkable is how it broke away from The Beatles’ usual formula. At the time, the band was best known for upbeat, harmony-driven rock and roll. Songs like “Can’t Buy Me Love,” “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” and “She Loves You” had solidified their image as energetic, youthful pop stars. But “Yesterday” was something else entirely.
When the band entered Abbey Road Studios to record the track in 1965, the decision was made for Paul to perform it solo. No John, George, or Ringo. Just Paul with his acoustic guitar, backed by a string quartet—a highly unconventional move for a pop group at the time. Producer George Martin helped arrange the string parts, careful to maintain the song’s emotional intimacy without overwhelming it.
“I didn’t want it to sound like Mantovani,” McCartney said of the string section. “You know, too syrupy. I wanted something real.” The result was a minimalist, elegant recording that allowed the melody and Paul’s vulnerable voice to take center stage.
When “Yesterday” was released on the 1965 Help! album, its impact was immediate. Fans and critics alike were stunned by its simplicity and emotional depth. It marked a turning point for McCartney as a songwriter, proving he could move beyond pop charm and tap into something profoundly human. It also demonstrated The Beatles’ willingness to experiment and evolve, paving the way for more mature and innovative works in the years to come.
Interestingly, despite its overwhelming success, “Yesterday” was not released as a single in the UK at first. The Beatles were concerned about branding, unsure how a McCartney solo ballad would reflect on the group as a whole. In the United States, however, Capitol Records released it in September 1965, and it soared to number one, eventually becoming one of the most played songs on American radio of all time.
Today, “Yesterday” holds an almost mythic status. It’s been covered by over 2,200 artists, from Frank Sinatra to Elvis Presley to Boyz II Men. It’s been performed in countless languages, in concert halls and bedrooms, at weddings and funerals alike. It’s a song that speaks to heartbreak, nostalgia, and the fragile beauty of memory.
And yet, at its core, it remains the same simple melody that floated into Paul McCartney’s head one morning in a dream. That mystical origin—something so pure and spontaneous—only adds to its legacy. It reminds us that some of the greatest art isn’t crafted by force, but received like a gift, inexplicably and mysteriously.
“Yesterday” may have started with scrambled eggs, but it ended up as a universal hymn of sorrow and remembrance. It stands not only as one of The Beatles’ greatest achievements but also as a testament to Paul McCartney’s genius, intuition, and unmatched melodic instincts.
In the end, it’s a song about the past, born from the subconscious, and made immortal through its timeless beauty. And perhaps that’s the true magic of music—it can appear when we least expect it, carry more than we ever intended, and live far beyond our own time.
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