REVOLVER (1966) | lacavernadecorvan

REVOLVER (The Beatles, 1966)

Artist: The Beatles (A)
Recording Dates: Apr – Jun ‘66

Release Date: August 5th, 1966. UK

Record Label: EMI Parlophone
Producer: George Martin
Rating: 10 (MUST HAVE)

Era: Psychedelia (1966-1969)

Subgenre: Psychedelia

Best Song: Uff! Tomorrow… No, Eleanor. No, no; For No One! Or Taxman! It's actually impossible to choose, they're all monumental!!!

Tracklist: 1) Taxman; 2) Eleanor Rigby; 3) I'm Only Sleeping; 4) Love You To; 5) Here There And Everywhere; 6) Yellow Submarine; 7) She Said She Said; 8) Good Day Sunshine; 9) And Your Bird Can Sing; 10) For No One; 11) Doctor Robert; 12) I Want To Tell You; 13) Got To Get You Into My Life; 14) Tomorrow Never Knows.

This was going to be my birthday present to myself, but for one reason or another, it got delayed. Anyway. When people ask me what my favorite Beatles album is, most of the time I answer Abbey Road. However, it's not unusual for me to say Revolver either. I can rarely say Magical Mystery Tour, but it's generally Abbey Road and this psychedelic gem that, for me, vie for first place in the Beatles' catalog. And it's not that it's historically undervalued. Most people hold it in very high esteem, but it's generally overshadowed by Sgt. Pepper's, and I still just don't understand how Pepper's ended up becoming THE definitive album and not Revolver, which is much more varied and consistent. I suppose it's because of the vibrant sound of '67, but '66 had even greater albums, like the Stones' Aftermath or the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds.

Furthermore, Revolver was one of my first encounters with the Beatles. Not precisely the album itself, since the first studio album I owned was Magical Mystery Tour, but because the only rock music lesson my mother ever gave me was humming "Yellow Submarine" to me. There weren't any Beatles records at home (no rock records, in fact), so when I became curious about the strange melody my mother sang to me, around the age of 10 or 11, I got a Beatles greatest hits album looking for the famous Yellow Submarine song. The compilation didn't include it, by the way, but it was "Yellow Submarine" that guided me to who I am now, and ended up defining me, not only as a music lover, critic, or musician, but as a person. After a while, I ended up getting all of the quartet's studio albums, and curiously, Revolver was one of the ones that initially shocked me the most. My initial favorite was Rubber Soul. But little by little it won me over, to the point, as I said, of occasionally surpassing the sublime Abbey Road. I need to listen to it, to return to it at least once a month to nourish myself and be moved by the perfection and beauty of this album, to remind myself why the Beatles, without being transgressive, virtuosos, or overly technical, remain the best band in history. At least for me.

Tons of ink have already been spilled on Revolver. I'll try not to repeat what's been said countless times, but it's impossible not to start by saying that it's one of the best albums in history, one of the most balanced, and with enormous variety. Revolver caught the Beatles at their creative peak; without being a complete 180-degree turn from Rubber Soul, it shows enormous maturity, and while the former clearly shows its age, this is a work of pop art that could have been recorded yesterday. Many say that this is like a continuation or second volume of Rubber Soul, but I definitely find it on another level, consolidating the musical revolution they timidly began with Help!, this album being more personal, darker, and introspective, and reflecting in each song a kind of delicacy and beauty that wouldn't be repeated until Abbey Road. Along with that album, this one doesn't exactly feature anthems like "All You Need Is Love," "Revolution," "Yesterday," or "In My Life." However, like Abbey Road, it maintains a remarkably consistent level of quality across all the songs; almost every track is a peak and an instant classic, and even the lesser-known songs, so to speak, would have been smash hits on any other album from '66.

Furthermore, this is when they began to showcase their influences and diversify their sound. John started to distill Dylan-esque lyrics, deeper and more poetic, moving away from the typical adolescent love songs of the group's early days. Paul, for his part, established himself as a master of melodies, but above all as a hyper-creative bassist—if not a virtuoso, then at least remarkable—creating excellent lines thanks to the friendly rivalry he had with Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys. And George, with the Eastern influences of Ravi Shankar, perfected his technique on the sitar and other Indian instruments like the tabla, in addition to lyrics based on his transcendental experiences, which would mark him as a songwriter. All in all, the result was an absolutely brilliant album, with its own unique personality, delicate, somewhat introspective, and undeniably revolutionary and timeless.

Speaking of influences, George Martin, while a crucial part of their previous albums, finally occupies the position of the "Fifth Beatle" here, becoming fundamental in his role as producer, contributing to the band's sound and the album's sonic experimentation. Of course, the greatest credit belongs to the band members, but without their curiosity to expand their sound, Martin wouldn't have found those experimental techniques for these songs. If the Beatles ever took the initiative and truly sparked a revolution, it was first with Help!, due to the more pop-oriented lyrics and instrumentation, and then with this album, due to the tremendous sonic experimentation that officially ushered in the psychedelic era. Among the effects we find for the first time on a record are reversed recordings, from the sleepy chords of "I'm Only Sleeping" to guitar solos in "Tomorrow Never Knows" and "Rain," which didn't make it onto the album but was part of the sessions; There are processed effects for the voice, serpentine tapes (cut and pasted randomly), loops like the "seagulls" of "Tomorrow Never Knows", or the marine effects of "Yellow Submarine", an elongated orchestral tone (also for the last track), again a string ensemble for "Eleanor Rigby" which although it had already been used for "Yesterday", this time is much more complex and has greater weight in the song, as there is no guitar at all and it is one of the first songs of the so-called Baroque Rock, or a French horn solo in "For No One".

Finally, another of the album's major influences is LSD. The music, besides being experimental, begins to take on a bittersweet and kaleidoscopic quality. By this point, the psychedelic experience George and John had with their dentist had become addictive, and the acid is evident both in the strange and elaborate sounds and in the extrasensory experiences narrated in some of the lyrics, such as "Tomorrow Never Knows," "She Said, She Said," and in part in "Love You To," or even in "Dr. Robert," where he speaks of the famous dentist and his magical medicine. "Yellow Submarine," seemingly childlike, is inspired by Lennon's first acid trip. When he got home, he had a hallucination in which the yellow living room of his house in Kenwood transformed into a submarine. The experience initially terrified him, but Paul found it hilarious. Months later, LSD would become the drug of choice among the nascent hippie nation, and governments would have to declare it illegal.

Musically, Revolver is the Beatles' White Album. Um… Wait a minute, the White Album is also by the Beatles! The habit of comparing, hahaha. What I mean is that it's the most varied album by the Liverpool lads after the White Album, which has the mischievous advantage of being a double album. On Revolver, we find a rich variety of styles, ranging from acid rockers like "Taxman" and "And Your Bird Can Sing," Baroque rock with "Eleanor Rigby," a blend of nursery rhyme and pub song with "Yellow Submarine," a distinctly Indian song with "Love You To," thus inaugurating World Music, psychedelia with "She Said, She Said" and "Tomorrow Never Knows," a delicate ballad with "For No One," and a more saccharine one with "Here There And Everywhere," featuring complex vocal harmonies that put the Beach Boys to shame, then a Motown-style horn track with "Got To Get You Into My Life," and another jazzy, New Orleans-style song that also parodies the Lovin' Spoonful, "Good Day Sunshine." There's no filler. Perhaps the weakest track is "Doctor Robert," but even that has its charm. What's interesting is that despite all the diversity, the album also feels like a cohesive whole. And while it's not a concept album by any means, it has a solid structure, a clear direction, and a consistent flow across all the songs. Not a single note is superfluous, not a single song feels out of place.

Therefore, it's a powerful, innovative, and impactful album, sculpted with beauty and gentleness. Perfect. Despite its vibrant sound, I've always felt that, apart from two or three tracks, it's the Beatles' darkest and most pessimistic album. Minor keys predominate. The lyrics begin to take on a critical edge, with George surprising us with his furious attack on the English tax system, and Paul with his universal ode to the homeless. McCartney himself delivers a poignant song of heartbreak. John turns inward, engaging in introspection and inner searching. Listening to this album and comparing it to any of the '65 albums, it's clear there's a huge shift, an evolution, and that the musical universe is about to take a giant leap. In Revolver, you can already see the psychedelic revolution and the Summer of Love that would arrive less than a year later. Almost no band escaped its influence, and in their eagerness to reach it and imitate its experimental tone, the psychedelic wave expanded.

Around this time, the group also began to politicize. With the tour that followed the album's release, the Beatles got into trouble with Japanese purists for being the first Western group to perform at the almost sacred Budokan. They then inadvertently snubbed the Philippine First Lady, Imelda Marcos, and nearly ended up in jail (or dead) for it. Then Lennon had the bright idea of stating the undeniable truth that at that moment the Beatles were more famous than Jesus, which generated a wave of hatred, including death threats and public burnings of their records. In the long run, the burnings worked in their favor when the fury subsided and the malleable, puritanical American teenagers rushed to the stores to buy the albums back. Finally, when Lennon gave his obligatory apology for the Jesus comment, he made his first political statement at the same press conference, attacking US policy in Vietnam.

Following the world tour after the album's release—during which, incidentally, virtually no songs were performed live due to their complexity—the Beatles announced their retirement from touring. They cited exhaustion from the tours, numerous arguments, and, essentially, the fact that the fans screamed so loudly they couldn't even hear themselves, making further touring pointless. From this album onward, they became studio artists in every sense of the word. No musician wants to be seen in concert; they want to be heard, and for them, that was impossible and incredibly frustrating.

The cover is a kind of rehearsal for what they would release shortly afterward on Sgt. Pepper's. It's a collage made by Klaus Voormann, a friend of John's from their Hamburg days, who would later play bass on some of Lennon's solo albums. The four main faces are pencil drawings, with a vague resemblance to each member, but still identifiable. Overlaid on them is a collage of photographs from '64 to '66. The album title is another of the band's anecdotal gems. Most people take it literally, as a pistol with a cylinder magazine. The truth is, it was one of the albums whose title caused the most debate among them. Around that time, they had a bit of a rivalry with the Beach Boys, and they wanted a title that would give the album its own identity while also sounding cool, continuing the theme of Rubber Soul. They had already chosen Abracadabra when another band beat them to it, so they started looking for another, and opinions were divided. John wanted Four Sides of the Eternal Triangle. Ringo, with his characteristic wordplay and still impressed by the Stones' Aftermath, suggested After Geography. Other suggestions included Magic Circles and Pendulum. Revolver emerged while they were in Japan, at the Tokyo Hilton, and its name, rather than referring to the weapon itself, stemmed from the idea of "revolving" the tracks, the sounds, creating a collage of sounds and textures to which all four had contributed.

The album opens with “Taxman”, a furious rocker and a spectacular way to kick things off. This is one of George's first serious, ambitious compositions. Interestingly, this scathing critique of the English tax system, which was bleeding them dry—taking up to 95% of their income—didn't come from the caustic John, but from the shy and spiritual George. The song starts with a bang, from the now-classic count-in, complete with a cough, to the powerful bass riff where Paul begins to explore his role as a riff maker and use the bass as a melodic instrument, to the brief but savage guitar solo with heavy distortion, also played by Paul this time. Everything works in this somewhat wild track, which recalls the saying that the Beatles were one of the most powerful and loudest bands of their time in Hamburg and at The Cavern, even though many later dismissed them for their “softness” in the studio. George delivers a masterful vocal performance, sounding magnificent and sarcastic, with the others providing backing vocals that don't overshadow him, but are spectacular with those fills between lines: “TAXMAAAAAN.” Paul collaborated extensively with George on the song, and Harrison himself would later thank him for his interest and support in this first serious attempt as a songwriter, since the song rests entirely on that simple yet spectacular bass riff, interspersed with guitar riffs. McCartney is also responsible for the excellent bit of “Ah Ahhh Mr. Wilson, Ah Ahhhh Mr. Heat!” at 1:38, referring to the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition at the time. In short, just over two and a half minutes, but the song is perfect and powerful, and it's the band's first political statement. Of course, Bob Dylan had already used his folk guitar to make sharp criticisms, but I'm not sure if rock as such had been used as a weapon before this song.

Next up is “Eleanor Rigby”, perhaps Paul’s most serious attempt at a socially conscious song in his entire career. Paul abandons the saccharine sweetness and syrupy ballads and takes on the role that John would later dominate. The song’s lyrics are strikingly raw, from the perspective of a destitute woman collecting rice after weddings just to eat. From the powerful opening chorus, “Ahhhhh! Look at aaaaaaall the lonely people,” it manages to tug at your heartstrings, like a timeless lament. If the lyrics weren’t enough to deliver a social critique of Britain’s poorest class, the instrumentation is utterly dramatic. George Martin wrote the arrangements for a string octet (violins, violas, and cellos), drawing inspiration from the music of Bernard Herrmann, a composer famous for scoring films like Citizen Kane and Fahrenheit 451. The way the instruments intertwine is simply mesmerizing, as can be heard on the instrumental version of the Anthology, and the section narrating Eleanor's death is particularly moving. Paul, for his part, delivers a magnificent vocal performance, equally dramatic, yet full of catchy hooks, perfectly rounding out the song. If "Eleanor Rigby" weren't absolutely memorable in itself, it holds great historical value as one of the first songs with 100% classical instrumentation. While they had already done something similar with "Yesterday," in this song there isn't even a backing guitar, and the string lines take center stage. Many dismiss it by comparing it to Bach or Schubert, but that's not the song's intention; it simply aims to use other musical resources and incorporate them into popular music, which is quite an achievement. This song inaugurated Baroque Rock, which later gave rise to Symphonic Rock, influencing bands like Procol Harum and the Moody Blues. A truly great song, one of my all-time favorites by Paul, and possibly the ultimate anthem to loneliness.

Next comes “I’m Only Sleeping”, a hypnotic song that almost puts you in a trance with its dreamy atmosphere. This is one of the first tracks to use reversed guitar tracks to achieve that airy, slightly off-kilter effect. The lyrics are also sleepy, with a great vocal performance from Lennon, whose voice sounds increasingly nasal, and excellent backing vocals from Paul, who adds those “Uhhhhhh” sounds and joins John in some sections. George plays the 12-string guitar for that acoustic, folk, yet somewhat eccentric effect, which was further processed electronically. The entire song has a dreamlike, lazy atmosphere, and the instrumentation fits perfectly with the lyrics. An ode to laziness, which could only have been written by John Lennon, who was known for sleeping all day on tour.

Then there's "Love You To", George's second song, in which he fully explores Indian sounds. And basically, if Paul could tell everyone else to go to hell on songs like "Yesterday" and "Eleanor," why couldn't George do the same with his Eastern influences? He himself had taught Brian Jones how to play the sitar, and the Rolling Stone had used it to perfection on songs like "Paint It Black" and "Mother's Little Helper" from the freshly baked Aftermath, so Harrison decided to go further and make a purely Indian song, in which the sitar wasn't just an embellishment, but the guiding force. Obviously, he doesn't reach the mastery of Indian musicians like his teacher Ravi Shankar or Zakir Hussein, but he definitely displays good technique and speed, mastering the complex instrument to a certain extent and showing Brian Jones who's boss, in addition to being one of the first blends of Eastern sounds that would shape World Music. Frankly, I find this song much more enjoyable and more effective at achieving its purpose than Peppers' "Within You Without You," and Harrison's interest in Hindu culture would eventually lead the Western world to look towards the Indian subcontinent, embracing its sounds, fashions, and philosophies.

Next up is a Paul ballad. I generally find “Here, There and Everywhere” overly sentimental, but it has its charm. Dedicated to Jane Asher, the song is simple, driven by the vocal melody, which becomes the focal point, and featuring beautiful harmonies from George and John that rival the Beach Boys. The guitar is simple and barely a secondary embellishment. The truth is, the melody and vocal harmonies are what make the song stand out. John would later say that this was his favorite song on the album, although I think that's more like false modesty. This would become Paul's trademark later on, more focused on big melodies, but with lyrics that tended to be rather cloying.

The sixth song is “Yellow Submarine”, jokingly sung by Ringo, the only one who could have successfully performed it. This song is basically the opposite of “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.” While the former was demonized for its supposed drug inspiration and references, even though it was just a children's song, this one was actually inspired by John's first acid trips, but the world interpreted it as a harmless children's song. When John and George first tried acid, the experience wasn't exactly pleasant. The dentist who supplied it to them and their wives insisted they stay at his house until the effects wore off, but they left in a panic, and the drug began to take effect while they were in the car. They got out wherever they could and went into a trendy club, but because of the neon lights, they thought it was on fire. Later, when they arrived at John's house, he hallucinated that his living room was a colorful submarine. When Paul was told the anecdote, he found it hilarious and decided to write a song for Ringo. Initially, it was about multicolored submarines, but it ended up being yellow. John contributed to the lyrics, as did singer-songwriter Donovan, who was very involved with the band at the time. The song is very simple in essence, with an uncomplicated acoustic guitar and a catchy melody that, in the choruses, transforms into one of those sing-along anthems from Central European pubs. However, the song is heavily overproduced with archival sounds that George Martin had saved from his old comedy shows: waves, bells, ships, horns, bubbles… There are also trumpets, voices shouting through megaphones, and so on. It's a very simple track, but one that's been given countless effects, resulting in a very groovy and fun sound.

Next up is “She Said, She Said”, a song that captivated me from the first time I heard it and which I still consider one of the most underrated in the Beatles' discography. It features a fascinating and easily recognizable guitar, with a sharp, acidic sound creating spirals. John's melody is hypnotic, like a continuation of “I'm Only Sleeping,” but more dynamic and luminous… as if he were waking up and remembering the dream, yet maintaining a surreal atmosphere. In this song, you also have to pay attention to Ringo, who plays a prominent role with the rhythmic shifts and off-beats. The song uses double-tracking, and John himself sings the backing vocals. The lyrics are by Lennon, based on an experience Peter Fonda had as a child, when he recounted an experience in which he died for a few minutes and then came back to life. The song is very strange, both musically and lyrically, but it still fascinates me as much as, or even more than, the first time I heard it.

Then comes a slight dip in the album's tone. It's not that "Good Day Sunshine" is bad, but it does break with the sequence of more pessimistic songs. In fact, it's quite cheerful, with a marching rhythm, in which Paul himself plays piano, adds bass, and sings. Only Ringo also contributes drums, and George Martin plays the piano solo around the one-minute mark. Lennon and Harrison barely contribute with timid vocal harmonies in the choruses. No, there are no guitars. The song is very simplistic and a bit repetitive. In a way, it was a parody of "Daydream" by the Lovin' Spoonful, who, despite being a fairly average American band, always considered themselves superior to the Beatles. "Good Day Sunshine" isn't bad, but it's not one of my favorites.

Here come the guitars again! “And Your Bird Can Sing” is much more enjoyable, with a complex and dynamic riff that repeats throughout the song, and intricate bass lines from Paul, who once again demonstrates his mastery of the instrument. John delivers an irresistible melody, and George and Paul harmonize on the flourishes, charmingly elongating the syllables. The guitar follows the lyrics perfectly, lowering the volume slightly as John sings and then rising again to return to the riff or the solo, which is simply the same riff, just a bit longer and more elaborate, and ending on a cliffhanger. It's not a rocker in the strictest sense. Nor is it a melodic ballad. Whatever it is, it's a good song. The Anthology version is much more fun, as both Paul and John are laughing hysterically, seemingly in the throes of a high. Lennon supposedly wrote it as a kind of jab at Mick Jagger, referring to Marianne Faithfull, who was nicknamed "the bird" for her voice and was then Jagger's new girlfriend. John never confirmed this.

Then there's "For No One", another of the most underrated songs in history. This is another Paul McCartney ballad (or anti-ballad), guitar-free, led by piano, harpsichord embellishments, a strumming bass line, and a French horn solo that adds even more nostalgia to the song. The vocal melody is worthy of a monument to McCartney—absolutely beautiful, sad, angelic. That slow, measured, and melancholic rhythm of the voice contrasts wonderfully with the faster keyboards. The lyrics are heartbreaking. They're often overlooked, but they're practically poetry about heartbreak, about breakups, about vicious cycles, and about wounded people who unknowingly hurt others. Truly, this is another of Paul's strongest points throughout his entire career, and it often brought a huge lump to my throat. At that time, he was still in a committed relationship with Jane Asher, and later said he was even on vacation with her in Switzerland when he wrote it, so it wasn't about a specific experience, but literally, for no one. The song is perfect, perhaps too short (less than 2 minutes) and with a very abrupt ending. It's one of my favorites by Paul.

“Doctor Robert” is perhaps the weakest point of the album. The melody is weak, the bass line is very uncreative, content to simply mark the notes, and even the guitar is very repetitive. It also has a certain resemblance to “Taxman” in its riff structure. The bridge, where the “Well, well, well…” comes in, strikes me as one of the weakest in the entire Beatles discography, even with the addition of a harmonium. Perhaps the most interesting aspect is its inspiration, as it's easy to see that it refers to the dentist who introduced them to LSD, although it's also said to be about Robert Fraser, a friend of the group who also procured drugs for them. To get out of trouble, John would say that he himself was “Dr. Robert” since he was in charge of carrying the medicine on the band's early tours. It's a rather uninspired song, but one that might have stood out on any other album by any other band of the time.

“I Want To Tell You” is George's third contribution to the album. Did you know that this is the album (excluding the White Album) in which Harrison participates the most? An excellent, mid-tempo, fade-in guitar intro is joined by piano and meandering maracas. George himself sings it in an almost hypnotic way. The atmosphere isn't too different from that of “She Said,” a bit strange and surreal, but with a certain Indian influence, especially when he draws out the last syllables of “I've got time” and shouts them almost like a Ganges merchant. The piano plays with small variations, but it fits surprisingly well. One of those pleasant, somewhat dissonant oddities from George, although it's not a highlight.

The penultimate track is Paul's "Got To Get You Into My Life", with a very jazzy feel and a horn and trumpet section heavily influenced by the Motown sound. The guitars are once again conspicuously absent, except for a brief snippet of a mini-solo. But it's basically a song with bass, drums, a very discreet organ in the background, and the bombastic horn section. It's not entirely bad, but you start to see Paul as somewhat individualistic and selfish, sidelining John and George in his songs. Rumor has it that it was dedicated to marijuana! It's another of the album's optimistic and upbeat songs, with somewhat corny lyrics, and perhaps that's why I don't think it quite fits the mood of Revolver, although, I insist, it's not bad either. In one of the strangest situations I've ever seen, the song was released as a single in 1976—10 years after it was recorded!

The closing track is tremendous. “Tomorrow Never Knows” is perhaps the band's strangest song, but strange in a good way, not like “Revolution 9.” I must admit it took me ages to appreciate it. At first, it even scared me, and I skipped it. Slowly, I began to understand its meaning and the wonder within that rarefied, almost metaphysical atmosphere, like stepping inside John's head on an acid trip. The song is pure experimentation, starting with the idea of a song in a single tone, without the slightest variation. Not even a little bit. The song constantly features background sounds, effects like seagulls (which are processed Paul's laughter), reversed guitar sounds, an orchestral tone that was also processed and interspersed between the verses, and together, they create a powerful and overwhelming wall of sound. John's voice also sounds strange, as it was filtered through a Leslie amplifier; I think it was the first time this was done with vocals. The drums are tremendous. Although it's a constant that doesn't change, the rhythm sounds incredibly powerful, giving the song a unique personality by not following a conventional time signature, and ending up being almost hypnotic with that syncopated beat. We also have a superb guitar solo at 1:05, with the peculiarity that it's completely recorded in reverse! The lyrics are enigmatic, based on the Tibetan Book of the Dead, according to John himself. The title isn't mentioned in the lyrics, but it was taken from one of Ringo's grammatical slips, and was even considered as the album title. In terms of production, it's also an absolutely revolutionary track. George Martin implemented who knows how many innovations that would later become commonplace in production, from processed vocal effects with the Leslie speaker, to serpentine tapes (cut and pasted randomly) that give it that chaotic and unpredictable feel, loops like the "seagulls" and the orchestral elements, the reversed guitar solo, and the atonal piano at the end. The song is enormous, from beginning to end. In my opinion, this is the most experimental thing the Beatles would ever do. Well, they would do other experimental things, but with disastrous results. Here, they manage to blend John's most bizarre musical ideas with George Martin's genius and creativity to create a song that is so strange, fascinating, apocalyptic, hypnotic, and powerful all at once. The only thing missing is that choir of Tibetan monks that John heard in his head when he conceived it, but we can forgive that omission. You'll hardly find "Tomorrow Never Knows" on any commercial Beatles compilation, but it really should be considered among their best songs. One of my favorites, and the quintessential psychedelic song in my opinion. What a closing track!

A fantastic album from every angle. Although it has a few slightly weaker points, overall it's the Beatles at the peak of their creativity, with an enormous variety of styles, making an absolutely brilliant album, with a perfect balance between somewhat strange atmospheres, beautiful and delicate songs, and some of Harrison's most powerful and distorted guitar work. The band as a whole shows enormous evolution, both instrumentally (particularly Ringo and Paul), as songwriters, as singers both individually and collectively (they don't reach the harmonic mastery of Pet Sounds, but Paul was right when he said, "We're only three voices, they're five!", and even then the difference is minimal), and even George Martin becomes a crucial part of the album, contributing to the sonic experimentation and creating several innovations in production. I think it's difficult to imagine today the tremendous impact it had at the time, but basically every band that existed underwent at least a slight change after Revolver. It's true that I already mentioned Help! It began with the musical revolution, but this was the definitive turning point in the history of music, the missing link that takes us from Rock & Roll and Rhythm & Blues that prevailed until '65 to modern Rock with all its variations.

The worst part is that the Beatles make it seem so simple, so natural, so effortless…

It's impossible not to recognize it as one of the best albums in history, although it might be a little tricky at first for those new to Beatles lore. It's impossible not to return to it again and again. It's impossible not to love it. A must-have!

By Corvan

Apr/27/2011