The Beatles (aka The White Album)

People who think that Sgt. Pepper was the Beatles' finest album are more often than not from the Beatles' own generation, boomers lamenting the loss of cultural unity and spiritual wonder. Well, my generation (X) needs a different totem. And guess what we chose? The White Album is cynical and brazenly ununified by theme. We can relate, boomers. As Blue Oyster Cult once said, "This ain't the Summer Of Love."

Still, for all that, there's not a single set of words that can sum up what this dazzling piece of mass-produced plastic means. It's a sprawl that encompasses every single bit of the Beatles' four personalities and telescopes them until they become a monument to creative control and inner understanding. It's also a testament to the Life Journey, one that surpasses gurus and meditation and goes straight to the heart of how people mature into something more than drunken animals. Still, lots of folks to this day point to the extremes of this album as proof that the Beatles were fragmenting, but what you're actually seeing is four corners of the same map -- this was the first and only Beatle album on which they dared to show it all. It's a crane shot of the Beatleworld.

The Beatles not a band? Preposterous. Dig the jams on "Yer Blues", "Helter Skelter" and "Birthday", the effortless complexity of the changes in "Happiness Is A Warm Gun", the raucous fluidity of "Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except Me And My Monkey", and especially that final part in "Dear Prudence", when you hear the essence of everything Beatle opening up like a rare hothouse flower and climaxing like your best night of passion. (Hey, it's my favorite Beatles song. Sue me.) And Ringo personally considers this his fave Fab album, because the band was, and I'm quoting, "a band again".

Of course, there ARE lots of points where the Fabs go off alone and create things with no Beatle around. "Martha My Dear" is the most Paul song to date, and "Julia", publishing credit aside, contains not one DNA strand of Macca's influence. George was beginning to not only stand up next to the Beatles, but match and in some cases surpass them. And Ringo writes a song!

Dear Prudence To me, the finest Beatle song, one that epitomizes more of Beatledom than any other song. Innovative bass lines, George's crying guitar, expert but strange drum fills, John's childlike romanticism, the mystic optimism, the incredible literal and metaphorical harmony -- it's all there. Written by John in India to Mia Farrow's sister in order to entice her from her meditative stance and "come out and play".

Glass Onion The first of the album's many sudden change-ups in mood, this is a direct, sneering attack on those who treat Beatles lyrics as sacred texts to be studied. Another excellent chance to indulge in Carrollian wordplay. Dig those chunky bass lines!

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da A bouncy happy song of Paul's that John detested but nonetheless came up with a piano intro for. (That opening is Lennon, stoned out of his mind.) The transvetitism in the last verse was a vocal mistake by Paul, who kept it in anyway, out of sheer silliness. Ostensibly a reggae song (a tribute to Jimmy Scott's Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da band), but it has more in common with English musichall than Jamaican dancehall. Still, a fun classic.

Wild Honey Pie Paul's attempt at a "bridge" track, a little bit of nonsense that he recorded alone. Interesting, if you're in a daffy mood. Included in the album only because Patti Harrison dug it.

The Continuing Story Of Bungalow Bill From Enrique Cabrera: "Bungalow Bill was really Richard A. Cooke III, a young college graduate from USA who was visiting his mother in Rishikesh. Nancy Cooke was in India following the same course as the Beatles, and one day they both went tiger hunting. Richard did indeed shoot a tiger, and he happened to tell the Maharishi in front of John and Paul. Of course, John didn't like the story a bit (he had indeed shot the animal hidden in a tree in a wooden platform) and the song came along. The name of Bungalow Bill was the result of putting together "Buffalo Bill" and the bungalows in which they lived in India." Featuring Yoko as Bill's "Mommy". That opening classical guitar is a taped performance. Rock's first sample?

While My Guitar Gently Weeps George's later claim that John and Paul never gave him proper credit is justified by his contributions on the White Album, especially this epochal ballad of spiritual sadness and world despair. Those guitar solos are from Eric Clapton, whom George was becoming fast friends with, and whom he brought in to weep more effectively. The title came from a random phrase ("gently weeps") taken from the I Ching. And he's not singing "Paul" at the end, just moaning.

Happiness Is A Warm Gun Inspired by a title on a magazine John saw in the studio, this was cobbled together from three different songs and is actually a more seamless medley than "A Day In The Life"; historically, it's the link between it and the Abbey Road medley. Sarcastic, sardonic, and weird, this just about sums up John's view of the outside world. A bitter masterpiece.

Martha My Dear An ode to, of all things, Paul's sheepdog (see also "Jet"). Nice and bouncy, almost baroque, with a fantastic production that actually presages Paul's work with Wings. John predictably, hated it. And the rift grew.

I'm So Tired Another slice of Indian Beatle life -- John's tired, thinking of Yoko, and wishing for some good old-fashioned Western smokes. One of John's most endearing ditties; he calls Sir Walter Raleigh a stupid git, pronounced "get" to John. Is it because of Sir Walter's chivalry, which John mocks, or is he just smoking Raleighs?

Blackbird The one song that Charles Manson got right, sort of. Paul specifically composed this standard as a tribute to the black race and their struggle for freedom, specifically in America. Although Paul has ALSO stated that he was simply visited by a blackbird. Who knows. It's a truly lovely song. That sound you hear is Paul tapping his foot.

Piggies George's attempt at baroque, and a sardonic field day, unless you believe George when he says this song is NOT about policemen and should be taken at face value. In any event, it was his mother who came up with the most violent line: "What they need's a damned good whacking!"

Rocky Raccoon An outstanding story-song from Paul, one of his best, written with the assistance of John and fellow spiritual traveler Donovan. Note the title similarities to Donovan's "Maria Magenta", "Clara Clairvoyant", and "Jennifer Juniper". And the last verse is one of the most poignant in Beatledom. A direct parody of macho John Wayne posturing.

Don't Pass Me By Original Title: This Is Some Friendly
Ringo's first real self-penned song, and a jolly hoedown, complete with Ringo's own strange brand of humor ("You were in a car crash / And you lost your hair.")

Why Don't We Do It In The Road? A simple but fabulous blues workout from Paul. John was angry that Paul didn't ask for his inclusion on what was a very Lennonesque number, but John still praised the song anyway.

I Will A lovely ditty to Linda that presaged Paul's later acoustic solo work. That's not a bass guitar part, either; that's Paul himself, humming as melodically as only Paul can.

Julia John left this out when he talked about his only "Real" songs while a Beatle. My guess is he just forgot, because this is the first song to draw the connection between John's mother and Yoko herself. (Indeed, it's the first song that even obliquely refers to John's situation with his mother.) Julia was his mother's name, but "Ocean Child" in Japanese is "Yoko". You connect the dots. (Another Donovan inspiration: he taught John how to pick in the folk style, which led directly to this song's creation.) A touching bit of intimacy that wouldn't be matched until John was no longer a Beatle.

Birthday Specifically written as an old-fashioned rocker by Paul. The proper mood was obtained, when, while recording, the band took a break to watch the classic 50's rock and roll film "The Girl Can't Help It." Those background vocalists are none other than Yoko and Patti. How did they get that effect on the piano, anyway?

Yer Blues Supposedly a parody of the blues, but the vocals suggest otherwise: this is tortured John at his worst, which means his best. And how many blue vocalists would say their mother was of the sky? One of the Fabs' best released jams. The splice at the end is a return to the taped first verse, with the vocals wiped. I don't care what you say, I'll stand firm on that. Nyeah.

Mother Nature's Son Another wonderful acoustic Paul number, written after a lecture on the unity of Man and Nature in Rishikesh. This same lecture inspired John to write "Child Of Nature", which would later mutate into "Jealous Guy".

Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except Me And My Monkey Original Title: Come On Come On Supposedly a reaction to Yoko having been depicted by a hostile press as a monkey, this raucous number of John's is so frantic it threatens to derail itself at any time. That's George on the bell... and the entire track is sped up slightly, too. Absolutely manic!

Sexy Sadie Original Title: Maharishi
One of John's bitterest denunciations. Having bought into the guru's teachings, the Fabs discovered that he was secretly trying to, um, show Mia Farrow his divinity, if you see what I mean. Among other women. John was incensed, he left India, and his loss of faith inspired this, one of his best ballads.

Helter Skelter Paul had read that the Who were planning their loudest, nastiest song ever (probably "I Can See For Miles") and Paul decided it was an open challenge, one he would answer. The song is merely using a children's slide as a metaphor for sexual frustration and anger (had an American written it, it might've been called "Rollercoaster"). Charles Manson thought it was a metaphor for the upcoming Race War, however, and his followers wrote the word on the wall in their victims' blood. Not good. The original track is 27 minutes long and even more "violent".

Long, Long, Long Original Title: It's Been A Long Long Long Time
A lovely and sadly overlooked song of George's, this is simply a love song to a spiritual deity, or maybe to spiritualism itself. It's also a musical tribute to Dylan's "Sad-Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands". The rattling sound at the end is a bottle of Blue Nun on the speaker cabinet.

Revolution 1 The original version of the classic single, this is played at a slower speed and is more laid-back in its bluesiness. VERY laid-back: John sang his vocal while lying on the floor. The original track was 10 minutes long but edited down; John used the outtakes on "Revolution 9", hence the copycat name. John says "You can count me out (in)" on this take to indicate his confusion over whether or not violent change was the way to go.

Honey Pie As far as Paul's 20's jazz songs go, this is probably the best, mainly because it's truer to form than the others, what with the clarinet and sax section, not to mention. And John (!!!) plays the fantastic lead guitar!

Savoy Truffle Very groovy and funky, this song is nothing more than George's admonition to Clapton, who couldn't get enough of Macintosh's Good News Chocolates. "You'll have to have them all pulled out", he says of Eric's teeth. There are about 8 saxophones in the brass section, a favorite indulgence of George's.

Cry Baby Cry It was originally about advertising -- "Cry baby cry, make your mother buy." The last of John's Dylan homages, it veers instead into a strange, sad tableaux of the wealthy, sort of a twisted lullaby. Some see this as a metaphor for the youth movement "tricking" the Establishment. Your call.

"Can You Take Me Back" A dark fragment from Paul.

Revolution #9