Chris O'Dell

From missodell.com:

It all started in 1968…

In February 1968, my friend Allan excitedly called to tell me he was rubbing elbows with Derek Taylor, famed Beatles (yes, THE Beatles) press officer. Allan insisted I come down to meet them at the La Brea Inn in Los Angeles. I did, and the night ended up being one I would never forget. Derek and I became fast friends and Allan and I spent the entire night talking with him, listening to his incredible stories about his life with The Beatles, laughing, playing records and getting stoned. It was magical.

While Derek was in town for a few weeks, he introduced me to many people in the record and entertainment industries and it sparked something in me. I knew I wanted to be part of something like that – something bigger. Derek was going to head back to London to head up the press department of Apple Corps. Ltd. – The Beatles’ new multimedia company in London. He told me Apple was going to be huge and that’s when he offered me my first big gig: to go to London and work with him at Apple Corps. 

Opportunities like this don’t come often – if at all – so after talking with my parents and friends, I sold my record collection and life insurance policy, and on May 17, 1968, I flew to London. I had no idea that I would be taking on a job that would change my life forever.  

From Apple Records to rock n’ roll tour manager

From 1968 to 1970, Chris worked as a personal assistant at the Beatles’ Apple Corps Ltd. multi media company. During her time at Apple, she worked closely with John, Paul, Ringo and George of The Beatles and encountered countless other musicians such as Bob Dylan, Joe Cocker and James Taylor.

She found her way back to Los Angeles in 1972, when she was hired by the Rolling Stones to assist with the L.A. sessions for their double album “Exile on Main St.” and then later accompanied them on their infamous “S.T.P.” tour in the U.S..

From 1974 to 1984, she oversaw Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s 1974 reunion tour, Bob Dylan’s 1975 “Rolling Thunder Revue” tour along with tours for George Harrison, Fleetwood Mac, Phil Collins, Linda Ronstadt, Queen, Electric Light Orchestra, Led Zeppelin, Santana, the Grateful Dead and others.

“I’d love to come to a session sometime,” I said. “Do you think I could come tonight?” Paul looked at Mal, just a quick glance, and then turned back to me, an amused expression on his face. “Why not?” he said. “Talk to Mal. He’ll organize it for you.”

Later that afternoon I ran into Mal in the hallway. “Paul said I needed to talk to you about coming to the session,” I said. “Would it be okay if I stopped by?” “No problem,” he said, “just come by whenever you fancy.”

I left Apple around eight that evening and took a taxi straight to EMI’s Abbey Road studios. […] The guard asked me to take a seat and disappeared down the hallway, returning a few moments later. “[Mal Evans]’ll make his way here as soon as he’s free, miss.” I waited. Half an hour later Mal appeared and sat down next to me. We chatted about all kinds of things — Apple goings-on, the weather, what he had for dinner — but he never once mentioned going into the studio. After a while I realized Mal was just passing the time and had no intention of taking me back with him. […]

“Hey, Mal,” he said, “the lads need you.” Like Mal, he had an impenetrable accent that started out in the back of his throat, lifted up like song, and twanged like sheet metal. “Thanks, Pete, I’ll be right back,” Mal said as he hurried off down the hall.

“I’m Pete Shotton,” he said, taking Mal’s seat and giving me a firm handshake. “Hi, I’m Chris O’Dell,” I said. “So what are you doing here, Chris?” […]

“Well, I’m going back in the studio,” Pete said, standing up and stretching. “Would you like to come with me?” After all that waiting and hoping, I was suddenly unsure of myself. “I don’t know if I should,” I said. “Mal knew I was coming tonight, but he didn’t invite me in.” “Well, I’m inviting you in,” Pete said, reaching for my hand. “Don’t worry. If you’re with me, it’s no problem.” […]

“We need some more background sound on the track,” Paul said in his take-charge way. “Pete, you can help us out,” John said. “Actually, both of you can help.” Pete stood up and took hold of my arm, but I pulled back. “No, I can’t,” I said. I was terrified.

“Why not?” Pete couldn’t figure me out. John Lennon was asking me to help out on a Beatle track and I was hesitating? “I can’t sing,” I said. Pete laughed and pulled me to my feet. “You don’t have to sing. Trust me. You’ll be fine.”

Pete laughed and pulled me to my feet. “You don’t have to sing. Trust me. You’ll be fine.” We joined Paul, Ringo, George, John, and Yoko at the microphone. Someone handed me a set of headphones. I was petrified and stuck close to Pete, depending on him to keep me from making a fool of myself.

“Testing one-two-three-,” Paul said into the mic. “Sounds good,” said the voice from the control room. “We’re just adding claps, right, John?” “Yeah, and anything else that pops up.” John laughed. To my absolute and undying relief, nothing else popped up, and all I had to do was clap my hands.

The red light over the control room went on, and I clapped as hard as I could. I never asked the name of the track they were working on because I was too caught up in the moment, but I think it was “Revolution 9.”

Chris O’Dell – From “Miss O’Dell: My Hard Days and Long Nights with The Beatles, The Stones, Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, and the Women They Loved“, 2009

Chris O’Dell also contributed backing vocals to “Hey Jude“:

I spent a lot of time that summer at Trident Studios, where I was booking sessions for Billy Preston, Mary Hopkin, James Taylor, the Iveys (who later changed their name to Badfinger), and other Apple artists. […]

I was in the studio on August 1, 1968, the night the Beatles put the final touches on “Hey Jude.” The master track had been recorded the day before, and they were adding overdubs, including backup vocals and the song’s long refrain played by a thirty-six-piece orchestra. The studio was packed full of musicians with their violins, violas, cellos, bassoons, trumpets, trombones, drums, cymbals, you name it.

As usual I was sitting on a couch just in front of the control board, nursing a drink (it was going to be a long night) and watching all the activity below, when Paul came bounding up the stairs.

“How’s it sound?” he asked George Martin, the producer. George always amazed me because he was twenty years older than most of us, classically trained, almost always dressed in a suit and tie. And yet no one understood the heart and soul of the Beatles music better than he did. I considered him a father figure, a patient, pragmatic, kind, and gentle man who was always ready with an endearing smile and a hearty chuckle.

“Yes, I really do think we’ve got what we were looking for here,” George said as he leaned back in his chair behind the console, arms above his head in a stretch.

“Okay, let’s get on with the vocals then,” Paul said as he headed out the door. Suddenly he turned around and motioned to me.

“Come on, Chris, you can help,” he said. “We need as many voices as we can get.”

Sing on a Beatles track? The thought sent a little thrill of fear through me. I couldn’t sing on key, or so I had convinced myself over the years, and the thought of being caught on tape and embarrassing myself in front of George Martin and all the Beatles unnerved me. I wanted to disappear into thin air and return a few hours later when it was all wrapped up and I could listen in peace to the playback. But I was caught. Paul had asked me to join in and he was the boss.

I stood at the microphones with the Beatles and perhaps thirty members of the orchestra, clapping my hands and singing along with the refrain.

Terrified that I’d sing out of tune and ruin the recording, I started off pretending to sing and just mouthing the words, but as we all clapped and swayed, our separate voices soon blending into one resounding chorus, my fears disappeared. With my eyes focused on Paul, the skilled conductor leading the troops, his hands swooping in circles, the look of joy on his face mirrored on the faces of all the rest of us, I sang my heart out.

Chris O’Dell – From “Miss O’Dell: My Hard Days and Long Nights with The Beatles, The Stones, Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, and the Women They Loved“, 2009

According to Peter Asher, Chris O’Dell might be the inspiration for the mention of Tucson in Paul McCartney’s track “Get Back”:

I do believe, however, that the Tucson reference may have actually come from my assistant at the time. I was working at Apple as the head of A&R, and a remarkable and charming woman named Chris O’Dell was my assistant—and remains a friend to this day. She is from Tucson, and she talked about her hometown a lot, so I think she may be able to take credit for the Tucson reference.

Peter Asher – From “The Beatles from A to Zed: An Alphabetical Mystery Tour“, 2019

Recording sessions Chris O'Dell participated in

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