Review of The Beatles 'The White Album'

Released 1968

"You'd say I'm putting you on
But it's no joke, it's doing me harm.
You know i can't sleep, I can't stop my brain
You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane
You know I'd give you everything I've got
For a little peace of mind".


Of all the albums I bought during my first year of University, no memory of the actual purchase is clearer than when I stumbled across The White Album.

There was a second hand record shop in the Dowanhill region of Glasgow which, as far as I can recall, I only visited twice. I have no idea why, as, on reflection, it had possibly the most eclectic selection of late sixties and early seventies era prog rock I've every seen in one place. I only remember buying two albums from there, the first Fat Mattress album ( whose unique fold out sleeve design was the most interesting aspect of the package) and The White Album.

I don't think I had ever seen a second hand copy before, and, come to think of it, I'm not sure I ever came across another one. In fact it was highly unusual to spy any second hand records by The Beatles; other than the 'red' and 'blue' compilations, and even then, that was also rare.

Therefore I have a very clear picture in my mind of the moment when my expert album flicking finger technique stopped at an original numbered copy of one of my most sought after prizes. I, like any serious music fan was very familiar with the infamy surrounding this release. From the influence of the Maharishi to the influence on Charles Manson and 'the Family', from the heated studio arguments (and walkout by Ringo) to the legendarily obtuse Revolution 9, I had long been in awe of it's mystique. One friend of mine in particular raved (and continues to rave) endlessly about it's greatness. Holding it in my hand, it had an almost tangible power.

I wasn't put off by the fact that a previous owner had seen fit to protect all edges of the sleeve with black insulation tape. This was the real deal. It had the posters, the lyrics, the lot. I can't remember what I paid for it, but, like the fool I was, I would have paid pretty much anything.

Although I already had Sgt Peppers... and Abbey Road, I still saw The Beatles as first and foremost a pop band. Both these albums had surprised me with their obvious prog leanings, but only so far. Still, seeing the green apple spinning on the turntable, I knew I was in the presence of a culturally important work.

Back In The USSR took me by surprise. It was one of those Beatles tracks which I'd forgotten I knew and enjoyed. An uptempo Beach Boys pastiche which rocked harder than I'd remembered, it made me smile at the undoubted knack Paul McCartney had for classic pop. I knew Dear Prudence, but had temporarily forgotten that this predated The Banshees remake. Although not a favourite track of mine, I loved the segues both in and out of the preceding and following tracks. I realised very quickly that The White Album is a masterpiece of sequencing

I know that I am not the first person to state this, but I think that it is worth repeating. Both the order in which the tracks are put together and the manner by which the transitions between them is managed is sublime. The variety of musical styles on offer make this especially important. If, for example, the slower ballads had been gathered together on one of the four sides, the effect would have been less effective than the actually finished product.

This makes tracks like Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da almost palatable. On it's own, it is easy to see it as irritating as Octopus's Garden on Abbey Road. However, sandwiched between Glass Onion and Wild Honey Pie, it indicates the unparalleled wealth of talent which these four musicians. The mucking around during last few seconds on the outro of Ob-La-Di also move the track out of the realm of mere whimsy, to something slightly different; pushing boundaries even on a simple pop track.

The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill , whilst hated by most Beatles fans, has more inventiveness in it's three minutes and fourteen seconds than the majority of their peers could muster in a whole album. Yes, it's got a guest appearance by that annoying Japanese woman, but listen again to just how much is going on. It's not the throw away track many would have you think it is.

Again the 'Ay-Up' segue into While My Guitar Gently Weeps is genius: serving to effectively connect songs which would otherwise be poles apart.

On my first listen, it was during Happiness Is A Warm Gun that I first had that shiver down the back of my neck when I realised how darn good this album was. I also shook my head in disbelief in amazement of how far these four mop tops had come in such a short period of time. This continued with I'm So Tired. By the time of The White Album, Lennon was clearly enjoying the emerging militant poet persona with which he was becoming adorned.

To this day I cannot understand what on earth Charles Manson heard in Piggies that inspired his actions. I love it's irreverence, simple bass line and harpsichord and I think again it's transition into Rocky Raccoon is superbly realised.

I'll admit that I was less enamoured by the last four tracks of the second side of vinyl. None of these are terrible songs; far from it, just not as inspired as the rest of the work.

The third side kicks off in wonderful style with Birthday, which sees McCartney really start to stretch out on his vocals. The best thing about this song for me is that one can almost hear a direct line leading back to their earlier days, shaking their heads together while hundreds of girls screamed in unison. Four or five years on though, this was more sophisticated, more knowing.

Yer Blues picks up where I'm So Tired leaves off: cutting humour, a strong blues influence, an excellent rhythm section which gets progressively more grungy. At two minutes and seven seconds in, the whole group steps up a gear and, despite popular myth, they appear to be having a good time. The guitar solo is typically underrated for a Beatles Track.

Mother Nature's Son is a partner piece to Blackbird in my mind. Both gorgeous. Many are quick to criticise McCartney for his pop sensibilities without listening to what else is going behind a seemingly innocuous lyric or simple song structure. Again, go back to Mother Nature's Son and listen to the many levels of instrumentation going on in the background.

The clever juxtapositions between tracks continues with the upbeat Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For me And My Monkey. Ringo's drumming is particularly strong. It surprises me that a band so intent on imploding can still sound as though they are a fully functioning unit.

To fully appreciate Helter Skelter, it is important to contextualise it's aggressive style and polemic approach. This was released before (just before) the MC5 and The Stooges launched their trademark radicalism on the American public. Sound effects were rarely heard and a screaming Paul McCartney was certainly not on the radar. All the above and the false ending with Ringo's 'I've got blisters on my fingers!!' were all so 'un-Beatle-like'. Of course, if you put all of this to one side, it would be easy to dismiss it as tame in light of many bands trading in a similar genre since, but this was The Beatles. This was 1968 and it was groundbreaking.

Long, Long, Long is one my favourite tracks on the album. The roots of so many other later bands can be traced back to this track. From More era Pink Floyd to Dark Star era Grateful Dead this is hugely influential. The atmospheric keyboards, manic drums and wailing is very, very prog. Lovely.

Revolution 1 threw me for a minute or two. I'd forgotten that there was a slow and fast version. Either way, this was classic pop which only Lennon could produce.

Honey Pie, Savoy Truffle and Cry Baby Cry lull the listener into a false sense of security. Three simple and variously daft and beautiful tracks which of themselves are pleasant and effective but brilliantly employed to set the stage for the centrepiece of the album, Revolution 9.

Revolution 9 on first hearing is just confusing and odd. With each subsequent listen, I become more convinced that this is one of the greatest pieces by the Beatles, or, to be fair, by John Lennon. There is beauty, menace, drama, invention present in layer upon layer of wonderfully paced staging for which he was woefully misunderstood at the time. The ripples emerging from the pebble which Lennon dropped in the pool of progressive rock are still being felt today.

There is a remarkable majesty by which the incoherence of Revolution 9 fades into the orchestrations of the cinematic Good Night. Two songs were probably never greater at odds. Side by side they produce a closing to the album which is tear-jerkingly moving.

This is my favourite album by The Beatles and a top five album any day of the week. I don't see this changing.

Review of The Beatles' Abbey Road

Released 1969

"He roller coaster, He got early warning,
He got Muddy Water, He one Mojo filter,
He say one and one and one is three.
Got to be good looking, 'Cause he so hard to see"

Having groaned and grimaced my way through the review of 90125, I can say with genuine delight that I have been looking forward to recounting my initial experience of Abbey Road ever since it saw it peering over the horizon.

Abbey Road was one of the albums in a big black LP case which was entrusted to me by a Helicopter Pilot from RNAS Culdrose whilst he was on manoeuvres. ( I realise how dubious that sounds, although I can proudly and honestly state in a deep manly voice that he only opened my eyes through the delights of his record collection). Moving on.

There is only a small handfulof albums where the first time I placed the stylus on the vinyl, pressed play on the cassette player or the CD player, where I can now, many years later fully recreate the entire sense of that moment, such was the immediacy and intensity of the experience. That day in the summer of 1985, when I first played Abbey Road is one of those precious moments.

I've possibly got this a bit wrong, but I think I'm correct in saying the original pressings of Abbey Road were the only ones to list Her Majesty on the sleeve and that it was omitted in later years. Either way, I'm fairly certain that the copy I was entrusted with was an original.

Obviously the sleeve is iconic, perhaps more so even than Sgt. Pepper. A simple concept but engendered with so much significance simply because it was the last true recording of the world's most influential pop group. Having visited the spot where the famous photograph was taken, it is astonishing how culturally significant it still feels all these years on.

I came to Abbey Road a tad weary from over exposure to Sgt. Pepper and unenthusiastic at the prospect of having to endure Octopus's Garden; which I still consider the second most irritating track recorded by The Beatles, after Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da. Mind you, as it was The Beatles it was still invested with a certain charm. Before hearing the album in it's entirety I would never have considered it a prog rock album.

As I say, the moment the rolling drum and bass emerge from the hiss of the stylus moving into the first track will stay with me forever. It was instantly and emphatically hypnotising, entirely captivating and jaw-droppingly 'right'. It oozed quality from the first note. I was stunned. Although I knew The Beatles were capable of more than just proficient pop, I had no idea they had produced anything so far removed from pop as this. This was a rock record.

Or was it. I'd forgotten about Something; George Harrision's finest moment, which was, for many the definitive pop song. Whilst Something itself was a million miles from prog, the contrast in styles in the first two songs was a very prog like technique.

Or so I thought. It would be a real stretch to categorise Maxwell's Silver Hammer as prog like. Typical for McCartney it was twee, largely daft and considered odious by his estranged writing partner. Oh! Darling again was very McCartney, although with an excellent lead and harmony vocals, it (just) rises above ordinariness.

Four songs in, and awaiting the shudderingly terrible Octopus's Garden, I was extremely sceptical about the formidable reputation of the album. With the exception of Come Together, it was never too far away from mainstream pop: proficient, but pop nontheless.

I almost certainly skipped past most of, or all of Octopus's Garden and was then pleasantly surprised by the massive leap forward in quality with I Want You (She's so heavy). From the sublime lead guitar, the many changes in tempo, the simple but brilliant bass guitar theme, the sterling drum working to the wonderful hammond, I was utterly impressed and knew in an instant that this was a classic track. It, for me, lays to rest the nonsensical argument that Ringo couldn't drum. The sudden, unexpected ending lends it a grand menace. I like to think that this was a the result of a particularly fruitful and enjoyable jam session, where the four of them actually got on.

That it moves with a very short break into the hugely different Here Comes The Sun can only make you smile and appreciate the ultimate genius of The Beatles: capable of such a wide variety of styles, often in the same album.

I'm glad that I was unprepared for the suite on the second side. If I had known it was coming it may have lessened the impact. I would never have associated The Beatles with a twenty minute suite of music. I find it very hard to listen to the second side of Abbey Road without a tear or two in my eyes. This is for several reasons. First and foremost it is one of the most beautifully accomplished suites of music I am aware of: it all appears so effortless. Secondly this was the swansong for the band: although relations between them were all but over, the manner in which their various contributions mould together to produce an incredible whole, reveals just how desperately sad it was that the world would never again hear the result of the their collaboration.

That they could barely look at each other in the studio, but could bring together the separately conceived basic tracks for Mean Mr Mustard, Polythene Pam, She Came in Through The Bathroom Window, and run them together so expertly makes me wonder what they could have been capable of if they enjoyed being in each other's company more.

I defy anyone not to well up during Golden Slumbers; invested with added significance due to its role as the epitaph to The Beatles career. McCartney's has never delivered a better vocal.

The final guitar solo, shared between Harrison, Lennon and McCartney is achingly poignant. If they could find the space for each other in this way, why did it have it to end?

An odd album; from the sublime to the ridiculous, from godawful pop to raucous psychedelic prog worthy wig-outs, it has moments of unsurpassed brilliance as well as moments that make me cringe. The end result, with the iconic sleeve, side long suite and its inherent historical significance cannot fail to leave all but the most cynical of prog rock fans reverent and respectful of its value.

For me, it's The Beatles greatest hour. Had they stuck together, I would love to know what the next album would have produced; I think it could have been a prog epic.