The Beatles (The White Album)

At the time it came out, I was 12, but even then it was clear that we were no longer in Pepperland or on a Magical Mystery Tour. This album wasn't yet more "progress" toward some new musical form. Musically, it embraced values never before associated with the Beatles as I understood them: Parody, pastiche, rock and roll revivalism, music-hall nostalgia, avant-garde experimentation, political agitation, intimate confession, trivial nonsense. It is, simply, a series of highly personal statements from the three songwriters, coalescing around no particular theme other than the right to personal expression.

"The Beatles" is not, to me, "the sound of the Beatles breaking up." That's the storyline a lot of Beatle historians apply to this album. If they're basing this judgement on the fact that the individual songwriters' imprints are on each song, you'd have to argue that the breakup began much earlier, around the time of "Beatles for Sale" or "Help!" Lennon-McCartney were rarely a songwriting "team" in the sense of George and Ira Gershwin. Their partnership was always about strategy, i.e. how to ensure that third-rate songs would not be included on albums just for the sake of fairness. "The Beatles" instead simply shows the evolution of each of the three songwriters (on this album, George emerges dramatically) as they each embraced new musical ideas and applied their life experiences to their art. Having helped break all the molds for what was acceptable songwriting in their previous work, they each now proceeded to take full advantage of the freedom they'd won. Some of the dumber cuts on "The Beatles" demonstrate, perhaps, the expression "freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose." Paul, in particular, seemed frightened to step out too often without the crutch of some existing form that he could parody or pay tribute to, i.e. "Honey Pie," "Back in the USSR" or "Rocky Racoon." But, while you can say that, you have to acknowledge that in this massive album, there are perhaps half a dozen Paul songs that are among his best and most original: "I Will," "Blackbird," "Mother Nature's Son," "Helter Skelter" for four examples.

Lennon's direction was to become more nakedly confessional, as befits someone who was dealing with such turbulent emotions at the time. He gives us some of his most beautiful songs, like "Dear Prudence," and some of his most intense, like "I'm So Tired," "Revolution," "Yer Blues," and "Sexy Sadie." Often, as in "The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill," "Glass Onion," or "Everybody Has Something to Hide Except for Me and My Monkey," he seems to be writing in code, and that sense of allusiveness gives the album much of its cracked character. And of course, he's the guy who assembled the collage, "Revolution 9," which is to rock and roll what "Finnegans Wake" is to English literature--a dream that floats between meaning and nothingness.

George seems to be captured here in a moment of great self-discovery as an artist; you can hear his talent finally come together in "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," which I remember at age 12 was to my ears the best thing on the album--and still seems to be so. Prior to the White Album, he had these cautious little songs on the early albums, and then embraced India, which while sometimes satisfying seemed weird and out of place. His songs here sets the stage for "Something," "Here Comes the Sun" and then his monumental early solo work. At age 12, I thought "Long, Long, Long" was a emotional powerhouse--and I still do.

A few months after I got "The Beatles," the Charles Manson murders took place, and eventually the DA made the case that somehow, insanely, the murders were inspired by songs on this album. Around the same time, the media were full of bizarre speculation that Paul McCartney was dead, and that clues were all over this album. It's no accident that half-insane people might mine "The Beatles" for hidden messages and evidence of conspiracies. The world it depicts is strange and almost claustrophobic--all the more so for its haphazard approach and its odd switches in tone from childish delight to fiendish paranoia. But even those of us who live normal lives and dream normal dreams can acknowledge that "The Beatles" has a hold on your consciousness that is unlike anything else the group did, and unlike anything else that came out of the rock era.

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Many (including producer George Martin) have complained that the album is too long and includes tracks of inferior quality, that it could have been boiled down to a single album of solid gold. Honestly, there is something here to offend everybody. While most people (including Paul McCartney) find Revolution #9 unlistenable, it was a major achievement of experimental electronica at the time, and it bears repeated listening (but not when you're in an Obla-di Obla-da mood!). You may find yourself consistently skipping over several tracks, like Why Don't We Do It in the Road?, Wild Honey Pie, Good Night, Don't Pass Me By because they're all put-ons.

I find myself skipping over some tracks, like Yer Blues, not because it's a poorly written tune, but because it's just too emotionally painful, which is actually an acknowledgement of Lennon's success as an artist. He was in pain, and he conveyed it all too clearly. Helter Skelter, on the other hand, is completely empty of meaning, yet is absolutely hair-raising, perhaps the most terrifying pop song ever (after I Am the Walrus). The frantic clanging of Everybody's Got Something to Hide matches perfectly with Lennon's manic mood and mystical mind at the time. He describes the most profound LSD and/or meditation experience - "Your outside is in/when your inside is out" - but the way he sings it, it sounds like he's being torn apart by the experience, making the song both inspiring and frightening. I'm So Tired is such an effective evocation of apathy, insomnia, and frustration that it also makes my hair stand on end, esp. when he screams "I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind!" That song has fit into the soundtrack of my life alarmingly well. In short, some people might be put off by The White Album because it is too emotionally charged and artistically adventurous. It wasn't designed as musical wallpaper and refuses to be reduced to that. You have to be prepared to listen to The White Album. When you are, it's an exhilirating experience. If not, it might make you want to puke.

The contrast in mood between the tracks is most jarring. Lennon snarls at his fans in Glass Onion, layers sarcasm on gun lovers in Happiness is a Warm Gun, pointedly berates the Left in Revolution #1, savagely attacks the Maharishi in Sexy Sadie, wails of suicide in Yer Blues. In contrast, McCarney offers some of his mildest, sweetest songs - I Will, Blackbird, and Mother Nature's Son, as well as the syrupy, music hall kitsch of Honey Pie, Martha My Dear, and Rocky Raccoon. None of McCartney's tracks here are "deep," but if you're in the mood for some tasty musical candies, these fit the bill quite nicely. Obladi Oblada is perhaps the best of the fluffy treats here. If this is your first exposure to the Beatles, you might well wonder how the group could contain such dramatic differences in temperament. (In fact, it couldn't, and would soon collapse because of those very differences in personality).

The classic tunes of this collection certainly more than justify the purchase of the two-disc set. John offers the stunning ode to his lost mother (and to Yoko) entitled Julia. George Harrison scores perhaps his greatest triumph with While My Guitar Gently Weeps (featuring Eric Clapton on lead guitar). Lennon's Dear Prudence is another touching masterpiece, written to order to induce Prudence Farrow to quit hiding out in her bungalow at Rishikesh. Ultimately, The White Album has something to delight everyone. If you prefer to avoid some tracks, you are among the majority of listeners. That's par for The White Album course. Once again, the inconsistency of the album accurately portrays the mind of each of the Beatles at the time as well as the larger cultural environment of 1968. It is required listening for anyone interested in 20th c. pop music. But be forewarned, it's not a smooth ride.

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