The Cavern
Rock & Words
SGT PEPPER'S LONELY HEARTS CLUB BAND
(The Beatles, 1967)
Artist: The Beatles (A)
Recording Dates: Dec ’66 – Abr ‘67
Release Date: June 1st, 1967. UK
Record Laabel: EMI/Parlophone
Producer: George Martin
Rating: 9 (ICONIC ALBUM)
Era: Psychedelia (1966-1969)
Subgénero: Psychedelia
Best Song: A Day In The Life
Tracklist: 1) Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band; 2) With A Little Help From My Friends; 3) Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds; 4) Getting Better; 5) Fixing A Hole; 6) She's Leaving Home; 7) Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite; 8) Within You Without You; 9) When I'm Sixty-Four; 10) Lovely Rita; 11) Good Morning Good Morning; 12) Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (reprise); 13) A Day In The Life.
Ah, we've finally arrived at the album proclaimed by many as "The Greatest of All Time." Those are weighty words, used indiscriminately for any album with spectacular production, be it Sgt. Pepper's, Dark Side of the Moon, Led Zeppelin IV, OK Computer, A Night at the Opera, <Insert the name of your favorite overproduced album here>… I don't believe this is the best album ever. In fact, I don't even think it's the best Beatles album. To go no further, I don't even think it's the best album the Beatles released in 1967. It's that simple.
There are several things I'd like to clarify before we begin. As you can see, it's not my favorite Beatles album, and for that reason, I'm unlikely to agree with Rolling Stone and all those self-important critics who crow that it's the best ever. To be clear, I'm just a fan and music lover, and this is simply my opinion. A reader once told me, not without a certain desire to be annoying, that I was nobody to "break myths," and at least on that point, I completely agreed. I don't work for the History Channel with the MythBusters, nor am I anyone to break them; I'm just a guy giving my opinion, and I can't and don't intend to go against that universal collective unconscious that seems to agree in calling Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band "the best album ever made in the history of rock." If I ever mention or have mentioned "breaking myths," it's more for myself, to change that paradigm instilled in us by the media that this is better than that, and so on. To give an opinion, I need to be convinced of it, and if breaking those myths in MY mind also breaks them in yours, then it will depend on each individual. This is a personal opinion; it is not intended to be an absolute and universal truth.
Having clarified that, I want to revisit that eternal debate with Lennon's statement just a year before the release of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. "(The Beatles) are more popular than Jesus." That's what he said, a literal translation of "Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink... We're more popular than Jesus now—I don't know which will go first, rock and roll or Christianity." It was the absolute truth in 1966, and I think it remains a harsh truth for many today. If religious people had cause for outrage, it was against themselves for allowing that situation to develop. The question is how words can be misinterpreted, taken personally, and literally set ablaze over comments that ultimately turned out to be true. John never said, "We're better, or bigger, or more important than Jesus." He said, "We're more popular," and that was enough to trigger widespread outrage. This led to the four of them being completely fed up, and coupled with the disastrous Asian tour of '66, to the unanimous decision (even Paul, who had been the most reluctant) that the Beatles would no longer tour and would concentrate on making studio albums, since there was no point in playing in stadiums if they couldn't hear themselves. The girls weren't there to hear them, they were there to see them, and they saw no reason to continue like that.
So, they took a couple of months' vacation (their first in about six years) and each immersed themselves in their personal projects. George went to India to further refine his sitar technique with Ravi Shankar. Paul dedicated himself to composing the instrumental soundtrack for the film *The Family Way*, the very first solo project by a Beatle. John went to Spain to act in the film *How I Won the War* (a hilarious gem with that typical British humor), directed by Richard Lester, who had already directed him in the two Beatles films. Oh, and he met a certain very unpleasant character at the Indica Gallery. Ringo… Ringo only spent time with Maureen and little Zack, which was possibly the best-spent time of the four of them. When they returned in December of '66, without having planned it, they realized that they had all abandoned their youthful, strawberry-haired look in favor of their respective mustaches, which gave them a more mature and serious image. His way of composing and performing had also taken a radical turn.
Everyone brought fresh ideas to the recording sessions, but the overall concept for Sgt. Pepper's can be credited to Paul. The idea came to him in November, while flying from Kenya back to London with Jane Asher. He was thinking about the tremendous burden of being a Beatle and how he'd rather be in one of the burgeoning San Francisco bands, with their hippie look and long, outlandish names. Mal Evans, who was flying with the couple, jokingly suggested "Dr. Pepper," but Paul wanted something more bombastic, and the suggestion ended up as "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band." When they met in December 1966, Paul brought the idea and a couple of songs: the title track and "With a Little Help From My Friends." The idea didn't immediately take hold. The Pepper's sessions began with the recording of two tracks that wouldn't make it onto the album: John's "Strawberry Fields Forever" and Paul's "Penny Lane." The initial sounds weren't very different from the Beatles' early period, and perhaps even recalled something of Revolver. I think that's one of the few redeeming qualities of the Anthology albums: we can see the evolution of a song in two or three different takes, and in this case, the take on "Strawberry Fields" was remarkable. Paul had worked very closely with George Martin on the orchestrations for the Family Way soundtrack, so he was determined to include more elaborate orchestrations in the music. Martin himself was increasingly taking on more influence in the final arrangements of the songs, and from that December onward, his role would be fundamental, initially supported by Paul, but later endorsed by John and the rest after hearing the results of those two songs. The two tracks were released as a single in February of '67, attracting considerable attention due to the change in sound and silencing those who said that without tours, the Beatles would be finished. But the real test was making an LP. During this time, everyone was reluctant to embrace Paul's idea and proposed an album of anecdotal songs from his childhood, tentatively titled Dr. Pepper. However, since there was a soft drink with that name in the USA, the title was discarded, the single's tracks were ruled out for the album, and they began working fully on McCartney's idea, starting with "When I'm Sixty-Four."
Now, I'm not going to fall into the trap of saying this is a bad or irrelevant album. I'm saying that musically it's a step backward compared to what they achieved with Revolver, but I can't even imagine the impact it must have been to hear Sgt. Pepper's for the first time in 1967. There's no denying that it's a revolutionary album in every imaginable way. It took me a long time to understand it, but now I grasp that phrase I read saying, "Pepper's was the crucifixion of rock; it will always mark a before and after." The merit of Sgt. Pepper's, and the reason it's so highly regarded, lies in the cataclysm it caused in so many aspects. From the seven months it took to record, which at the time was the longest recording period for a single album, to the production costs, which, were it not for the Beatles, would have been prohibitive for almost any other band, to being the very first in history to do something as simple and something we now take for granted as putting the lyrics inside the box… Musically speaking, perhaps it wasn't the first time they added orchestrations—the Beatles themselves had already done so, not to mention the Rolling Stones, or the Beach Boys on Pet Sounds (which, incidentally, also fueled Paul's desire to go further than Pet Sounds and generated the pseudo-conceptual album idea)—but it was the first time they combined a guitar solo over an orchestra or a horn section simultaneously. As for the idea of a concept album, today it seems like a joke; we have to accept that. But until 1966, bands focused more on singles, and if several were hits, they'd compile them and release an LP, generally with unrelated tracks. The idea of an album as a unified whole arose from the rivalry between the Beatles and the Beach Boys—that is, an album without filler tracks that could stand on its own, with its own identity. Peppers is certainly not a rock opera. It's not like SF Sorrow or Tommy; rather, it has a very simple concept: to present, in the first song, the beginning of a show that is supposed to unfold throughout the album. Some tracks work quite well in this regard. It doesn't take much to start with that circus-like introduction, followed by Billy Shears singing "With a Little Help From My Friends," then imagining a light show and colorful fountains with "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds," the magic show with "Getting Better," a clown sketch with "Fixing a Hole," dancers recreating the drama and beauty of "She's Leaving Home," the presenter in a top hat reciting the lyrics to "Mr. Kite" with Henry the horse, a fakir performing snake charms in "Within You Without You," another Chaplin-esque comedy show in "When I'm Sixty-Four," the trapeze artists in "Lovely Rita," the curtain falling after the "Reprise," and well, you get the picture. But the truth is, you need a lot of imagination, or maybe you're on a lot of acid, to see this whole concept, which wasn't exactly the original idea. The album has a beginning and an end to the show during which Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band supposedly plays, but the songs in between had absolutely nothing to do with it; they were just random tracks. So the idea of a concept album sounds incredibly weak today. I emphasize, today. At the time, I understand why it caused such a massive shock. Another issue is that everyone associated it with drugs. The influence of LSD on the sounds is undeniable, but curiously, all those phrases in almost every song that were misinterpreted as a direct reference had nothing to do with it. The "I get high with a little help from my friends," the initials of "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds," the heroin allusions in "Fixing a Hole" and "Henry The Horse," or the "10,000 holes in Blackburn Lancarshire"... All of that was just coincidence, which people interpreted as making it seem like an album that also revolved around drugs, and hard drugs at that. Nothing could be further from the truth.
But the real revolution this album caused was in the studio. George Martin and sound engineer Geoff Emerick had to invent new recording techniques (which are also commonplace today) to keep up with the quartet's creativity. Vocals through the Leslie amplifier, the use of the fuzzbox, the orchestra multiplied by four in the crescendos of "A Day In The Life," reverse recordings, the technique they used for "Mr. Kite" of taking the tapes, cutting them into pieces, and randomly splicing them together for background sounds and textures, and above all, the technique of track reduction. In England, 8-track multitrack didn't arrive until the end of '67, so George Martin recorded the songs on the 4-track console, mixed them onto a single track, and then recorded them again on the 4-track console, adding what had already been recorded on one track and adding new material, so they virtually had a 16-track multitrack. The contributions to recording techniques were absolutely revolutionary, and this is what really changed the way of recording from 1967 onwards, making possible tricks that were previously unimaginable.
The cover art is also remarkable. Never before had an album cover been so intricate. In their quest to portray the band of the title, they created a collage-like representation with military uniforms designed by the Mexican Manuel Cuevas, featuring images of 70 celebrities in the background, including writers, religious figures, film stars, musicians, a reference to the Rolling Stones in the figure on the right, and a floral arrangement spelling out the band's name (the real one, not the fictional one). The cost of the simple cover was 100 times greater than the average rock album cover of the time, and it set new standards for album cover design from then on. In short, it's no wonder it became one of the most iconic in history.
The album opens with the murmur of the crowd and the sounds of the orchestra tuning up. Then comes the distinctive beat and that screeching guitar, unmistakably Harrison's signature sound, yet so different from anything George had done before. "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" is a very well-crafted rocker that succeeds in immersing us in the spectacle that unfolds, introducing the band (with a trumpet solo at :40) and singer Billy Shears (at the end, transitioning into the next song). Everything works perfectly: George's intro, with its acidic and corrosive edge, the guitars, fuzzier than ever, though somewhat overshadowed by the orchestrations. The choruses are incredibly catchy, with spectacular vocal harmonies led by John. The crowd gets excited and starts applauding, and towards the end, Paul introduces Billy Shears, sending the audience into a frenzy of jubilation, perfectly rounding out the atmosphere, a blend of circus and military. The transition to the next song is spectacular, with an overdub of countless voices singing the name of the fictional singer and raising the pitch to set the stage for Ringo's entrance. "Sgt. Pepper's" is definitely not the Beatles' best song, but the atmospheric construction is impeccable, and it works perfectly, serving as a foundation for the rest of the album.
Next up is “With A Little Help From My Friends”, which is undoubtedly my favorite Ringo song. The track was mostly written by Paul, with minor contributions from John, and was originally intended for Starr to sing. The song is delightful; Ringo sings with that deep, carefree tone, but in the most charming way imaginable, with an exquisite vocal melody, while George Martin keeps time with a Hammond organ, picking out tones. The bass line is remarkable, with a bouncy and unpredictable style that would become Paul's signature during this psychedelic period. The guitar work isn't stellar, but it shines brightly in its few contributions. Ringo even throws in a hint of a drum roll at the :40 mark. The vocal harmonies in the bridges are wonderful, with John, George, and Paul singing “Do you need anybody?” and Ringo replying “I need somebody to love,” and the lyrics in general have an overflowing and contagious optimism. Once again, everything comes together magically to create a truly endearing track. There are no spectacular solos, it's not a prog rock piece, it's a simple yet beautifully crafted song, and it's impossible not to smile while listening to it. Joe Cocker and Jimmy Page would work wonders with it shortly after, but even though they recorded a much more powerful and bluesy version, the charm of the original version on this album is undeniable.
Next up is “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds”, which everyone assumed was a reference to LSD because of the initials and the kaleidoscopic imagery. But it was simply a drawing by Julian Lennon of a kindergarten classmate named Lucy. John used this drawing as inspiration to write a song for his son. The song is magnificent, with an arpeggiated intro featuring hallucinogenic effects. Paul adds a bass scale that gradually becomes more complex. The verses are in 3/4 time, accelerating for the bridge (“cellophane flowers of yellow and green”), setting the stage for the explosion with three snare drum hits from Ringo, which perfectly serve as a transition back to the conventional 4/4 time signature for the choruses. Incidentally, in the choruses, John and Paul sublimely intertwine their voices; on the third repetition of the title, Paul takes over with second harmonies, and they finish with that “AhhhhhhhhhhhHHHhhhh” in perfect harmony. A song that's all color, every instrument contributing to that ethereal yet powerful aura. Incidentally, it's rarely mentioned that Harrison incorporates the sitar again, but if you listen closely, you can identify it, especially in the coda. One of the Beatles' essential songs. I generally find it difficult to imagine "Sgt. Pepper's" without considering "With a Little Help," and I might even add "Lucy." The truth is, all three work independently and form a very strong opening to the album, but when I listen to them separately, I'm left with a feeling of something strange, like something's missing. I don't know if it's just me, haha.
After this tremendous start, the album begins to falter. The songs aren't bad, and they could easily be featured on any other band's album, but they're not on the same level as the compositions on Revolver, for example. The production benefits them immensely, but the stripped-down songs aren't among the Beatles' best, in my opinion. "Getting Better" is a prime example. The title was taken from a phrase often repeated by Jimi Nicolas, the drummer who temporarily filled in for Ringo when he had surgery and couldn't complete a tour. The song is very simple, with an incisive electric piano and Paul's melodies, always catchy, but here bordering on saccharine. The song is simple to the point of being naive. The bass line is unnecessarily complex. But the vocal harmonies are incredible and redeem the song. The overdubs they achieved with Martin's techniques allowed them to expand their sound and create tremendous arrangements, clearly with the intention of overshadowing the Beach Boys. In short, it's not a bad song, but it's never really grabbed me, nor do I think it would ever appear on a good Beatles compilation. It's like "Penny Lane" but without the same brilliance.
I feel the same way about “Fixing a Hole”. It’s never really grabbed me. The harpsichord is a bit jarring, and it clashes a lot with Ringo’s cymbals. There’s been a lot of talk about the supposed philosophical meaning of the lyrics, or whether it’s about drugs, or whatever. Paul himself admitted that it’s literally about fixing holes in the roof of his house in Scotland. George’s guitar is perhaps what I like most, very imaginative, and a strobe-like solo at 1:15. But even the vocal melody seems bland to me. It’s not bad, I insist, but I don’t think it’s the Beatles’ best work.
We continue with “She’s Leaving Home”, where they regain their tremendous level of skill, creating a dreamlike atmosphere. The harps that open the song, Paul’s excellent vocal melody, which moves us with its story of escape and ingratitude, the delicate orchestration… It’s a beautiful ballad, where none of the band members play an instrument. They had already done this with “Eleanor Rugby,” but in this case, John joins in the chorus to sing the mother’s line. The song is mostly Paul’s, but Lennon contributed a little. They were inspired by a newspaper article about a 17-year-old girl, Melanie Coe, who had disappeared from her home, and in the article, her parents wondered why she had left when she had everything at home. The song is beautiful, with a great sense of nostalgia and an incredible atmosphere thanks to George Martin’s genius as arranger.
Unfortunately, the mood shifts to the opposite extreme with "Being For The Benefit of Mr. Kite". The song has a circus-like atmosphere that I've never liked. It's not because I dislike circuses, but because it's extremely bizarre, with exaggerated instruments: organ, harmonica, Hammond and Lawrey organs, marimbas… everything sounds very shrill and far too psychedelic for my taste. Martin took the orchestration tapes and spliced them together more or less randomly for the background sounds, and that also creates a certain sense of chaos and disorganization. It's true, it immerses you completely in the circus atmosphere, and in that respect, his intention works perfectly, but I've never liked it. Never. I think it's one of Lennon's most jarring songs ever.
Next up is “Within You Without You”, a George track where he completely sidelined the others to showcase his knowledge of Indian music, accompanied by a group of expert musicians. This wouldn't be the first time; Paul had already done it on “Yesterday.” This song features purely exotic instruments: sitar, tambura, swarmandal, tabla, dilruba… originally 30 minutes long, it was obviously cut down to about 5. The track is beautiful, with a hypnotic melody and lyrics that also reflect the profound Indian philosophy George had absorbed up to that point. Everything exudes a deep peace and sounds like a dewy dawn on the banks of the Ganges. There are solos from some instruments, and the song is a bit longer, but thankfully not as long as originally planned. It's more accomplished than “Love You To” from Revolver, reflecting a more philosophical and calm style. “Only A Northern Song” was also recorded during these sessions but left off the album and later included on Yellow Submarine in '68. George's experience with Indian music gave him the confidence to make a whole album of this music at the end of the year, Wonderwall Music, where he also achieves excellent experimental tracks of what would be the first World Music album, but here is the germ of it all.
Then we have “When I’m Sixty-Four”, a lovely song by Paul that he had actually written when he was 16. They would play it when the power went out or the amplifiers broke down. Partly joking, partly serious, the song came about when they started recording anecdotal tracks. The song is quite curious, with the clarinet dominating and adding an original and fun touch throughout, interwoven with the saccharine vocal melody. The lyrics tell of a boy declaring his eternal love to a girl. And when I say eternal, I mean it literally, talking about growing up, having grandchildren, feeding each other, and celebrating 64 years together. George Martin says that Paul possibly remembered the song because that year his father turned 64, which was the legal retirement age in Britain—in other words, for them, it was the age when one becomes old. The song has its charm, it's fun, and I admit that I even dedicated it to my wife, but it's not one of the top-level ones or ones that we'll find in the hits collections.
Next up is “Lovely Rita”, also by Paul. It has a great bass line, excellent vocal harmonies between Paul and John, and that very strange melody—equally addictive, but a bit odd compared to McCartney's usual style. At :40, when he sings “and the bag across her shoulder,” John makes strange noises scraping paper with a comb. At 1:10, we have a drum roll from Ringo that leads into a lovely piano solo by George Martin. The song was inspired by a traffic officer who gave McCartney a ticket for illegal parking outside Abbey Road. The song is nice, but a bit strange, especially after the change of tone at 2:10 when that coda-like section begins, in which John sighs into the microphone, moans, and there's an ethereal electric organ solo. That ending has always struck me as a prelude to “Revolution #9.” Again, a decent track, but one that doesn't quite shine.
We continue with John's "Good Morning, Good Morning". Inspired by a Corn Flakes box. What else could we expect? This has always seemed like filler to me, and I've never liked it. It's like listening to the Beatles with a Tambora drum. The vocal melody is weak, lacking intensity (except perhaps in George's solo, which doesn't quite fit). The horns don't strike me as particularly creative either. Perhaps the most interesting aspect is the constant time signature changes, mixing 4/4, 3/4, and 5/4 time in the same song for the first time. Towards the end, we hear a collage of farm animals, using recordings Martin had from his days as a comedy producer, and so we're treated to the sounds of roosters, cats, dogs, sparrows, horses… A rather weak track overall.
"Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise)" is essentially the opening track, sped up, with modified lyrics to signify the show's closing. The song is even more rock-oriented than the first, with heavier, more prominent guitars. It lasts just 1:18 and serves perfectly to end the supposed performance, accompanied by recordings of the audience applauding as the band says goodbye. In fact, it was the last song recorded. Interestingly, it can't be linked to the first track since they are in different keys: the first in G and this one in F.
The show ends, but the album continues, with perhaps the best song in the entire Beatles catalog. “A Day in the Life” is an immortal, collector's item that, no matter how many times I listen to it, always manages to surprise me with a new detail. This is the first song composed in distinct sections, like a suite. It's not strictly a progressive suite, but it would undoubtedly set the precedent for what the entire prog movement would be doing a couple of years later. The song is impressive and moving, from the gentle acoustic guitar riff that opens it, to the piano that adds just a few notes to create a touch of drama. The bass line this time is discreet and solemn, perfectly suited to the song. John begins with a melancholic, echo-laden, slightly raspy voice, with that legendary “I read the news today, oh boy,” and starts narrating the fatal accident of Tara Browne, a friend of the Beatles. Browne was the symbol of Swinging London, a flamboyant young man who was everywhere, knew everyone, and pulled the strings of that countercultural London of the early 1960s. On December 18, 1966, Tara was driving his Lotus Elan at high speed with his girlfriend, Suki Potier. Possibly under the influence of drugs, he ran a red light at 170 kilometers per hour at the intersection of Redcliffe Square and Redcliffe Gardens, crashing into a truck. He was seriously injured in the accident and died the next day. Suki escaped with only minor injuries. The Rolling Stones were also close friends of Tara, particularly Brian Jones, who fell into a deep depression after his friend's death. "Ruby Tuesday" was partly dedicated to him. Ironically, Jones would later date Suki after Anita Pallenberg cheated on him with Keith Richards. And speaking of the Stones, Mick Jagger went to Abbey Road Studios when he heard they were recording something dedicated to his friend Tara. While he was there, he wanted to listen to the Beatles' new album and was impressed with what he heard. They were just beginning the first sketches of Satanic Majesties, but he immediately realized they would have to handle it as a psychedelic joke or risk making fools of themselves. During this visit, he invited the Beatles to a party Keith was throwing, which ended up getting raided, but only George attended.
Returning to the song, it's heartbreaking when John sings, "Well I just had to laugh, I saw the photograph…" and addresses, not without a touch of irony, the way people crowded around to see the accident and the media's handling of the story. The second verse is also taken from a newspaper, referencing when the British army won the war. It's not about World War II, but rather a critique of the film "How I Won the War," in which he acted a few months earlier, yet somehow it was interpreted as his first anti-war lyrics. Then comes the line "I'd love to turn you on" and the spectacular crescendo with the orchestra dramatically rising for 23 beats, which has always struck me as an exquisite sonic tsunami. After the explosion and the shattering, a piano marks the beat, the alarm clock rings, and Paul's part enters—a completely different song that fits together miraculously. This song describes McCartney's school days: “Wake up, fall out of bed, drag a comb across my head…” up to the part where he gets on the bus and says “Found my way upstairs and had a smoke, and Somebody spoke and I went into a dream.” This, along with “I'd love to turn you on,” has been interpreted as a direct reference to drugs.
After Paul's intriguing section, which, it must be said, perfectly complements the work, comes John's spectacular vocal bridge with ethereal "AhhAAHHHHahhhaAHHAHah" sounds that fade away with a majestic horn section. Then we return to the main structure with John singing again melancholically over another newspaper clipping: "I read the news today oh boy, Four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire." This leads to another crescendo with the orchestra, dramatically building tension to a peak, culminating in that powerful note from the entire orchestra, dominated by the piano until it fades away. In fact, it's three pianos attacked simultaneously by Lennon, McCartney, and Mal Evans in E major, the fade lasting about 40 seconds, for which they added backing vocals sustaining the note. Then, just as we're recovering from the initial shock, comes a collage of unintelligible voices swirling through the speakers in a hallucinatory effect. Paul originally wanted a 90-piece orchestra, but it was impossible to record them all at once, so a 40-piece orchestra was recorded, with the musicians asked to wear masks, wigs, or clown noses. The take was improvised, with everyone paid a total of 367 pounds, and in the end, several takes were layered to create the effect of that magnificent crescendo, or "Sonic Tsunami." The song is breathtaking, and as I mentioned, every time you listen to it, you discover something new. The lyrics, whether intentional or not, reflect how in a single day you can be touched by things as trivial as waking up or combing your hair, or by death, war, or even something as banal as holes in the House of Lords. One of John's strokes of genius, in which Paul collaborated fully, just like in the old days, and which will undoubtedly transcend history as one of the greatest songs in rock history. It's generally impossible for me to name my favorite Beatles song; I almost always have to pick five or six, and they vary. But among those five or six is almost always "A Day in the Life," and if I had to choose just one song from the entire Beatles catalog at gunpoint, it would be this one, without a doubt.
Anyway. A great album that needs no review or further introduction. Those who don't know it simply don't know anything about rock. Even so, it has its flaws; it's not a perfect album, and I don't know if it's the greatest of all time. What I meant by the anecdote about John Lennon saying the Beatles are more popular than Jesus is that the same could be said of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Perhaps it's not the greatest, nor the best, but it's the most popular, the most revolutionary, and the one that had the greatest impact on culture, society, fans, critics, and other musicians. No one's going to take that title away from it.
I can't give it a perfect score, because musically I think it has some rather average tracks and at least a couple that could be considered filler (I won't argue with you if you like "Mr. Kite" and "Morning"), but they're still quite weak compared to the level they reach when they're at their best, like on Revolver or Magical Mystery Tour, which I still consider superior as a whole. All things considered, as I said, this is an essential album.
By Corvan
Dec/27/2011
