It only makes sense that the most popular all-around Beatles album next to Abbey Road (itself a dubious assignation of fandom), is The Beatles a/k/a ‘The White Album.’ Ostensibly it has something for everyone in terms of style, but that also makes it the prime candidate of its era for paring down to a single LP ( at the time of its recording, an observation also held by the group’s long-time producer Sir George Martin).
If the concept of solo albums by individuals in established groups had been broached at this point over a half-century ago, the multiple exercises in style and overly-offhanded recordings might well have been designated for records under the individual names of John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr.
After all, there is no group portrait in the package except those randomly placed as all the surrounding photos on the enclosed poster. Instead, there are individual headshots of ‘the boys,’ while the plain white outside cover–tainted only by embossing and, in some versions, a serial number–might be interpreted as the clean slate from which the band chose to work for the successor to 1967’s Sgt. Pepper.
Naysayers might also read the ‘blank’ artwork as symbolic of the Fab Four’s lack of collective direction. The plethora of original songs that came out of the trip to India early in 1968 (collected on ‘The Esher Demos’ in the 50th Anniversary box of 2018) might give the lie to that though, especially in John’s case: the titular leader of the foursome (at least in his own mind at certain times), had resumed a prolific output of substantial compositions after the comparatively barren year prior.
Except for his co-write with McCartney, “A Day in the Life,” the significance was decidedly scant in “Being For The Benefit of Mr. Kite,” “Good Morning” and even to some extent “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds.” The same might be said of songs here such as “Happiness Is A Warm Gun” and “Sexy Sadie,” despite the fact each in its own way presented facets of his oddball personality previously on display for his book In His Own Write.
Meanwhile, “Glass Onion,” and “Dear Prudence” were well-wrought returns to modern rock and roll form, produced by George Martin prior to his exit in frustration from the sessions. Full evidence of careful thought from the sources of inspiration to the arrangements and performances, these are quintessential products of the Lennon’s intelligence (not to mention his loyalty to the electric guitar).
John’s songwriting collaborator McCartney continued on in his tuneful way, sans the mawkish overtones that afflicted future work under his own name. With its subdued brass arrangement, “Mother Nature’s Son” finds him simultaneously offering an exercise in restraint plus a demonstration of simplicity on par with “I Will” and “Blackbird.”
Both of the latter (recorded essentially alone) are far removed from the comparatively extravagant (self-indulgent?) likes of “Martha My Dear” and “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da;” And the less said the better about “Honey Pie” (wild and otherwise), “Rocky Raccoon” or “Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?.” Sir Paul’s production of songs so widely varying in depth gives the lie to the wisdom of the individual Beatles overseeing their own material sans much input from their bandmates.
In contrast, Lennon’s “Julia” and “I’m So Tired” are both heartfelt personal expressions comparable to the hard rock version of “Revolution” relegated to single release on the same 45 rpm single as Paul’s “Hey Jude.” The seven-plus minutes’ likes of the latter would’ve made for a most dramatic denouement to a ‘The White Album’ in modified form, while the inclusion of such tracks on long players was anathema to the group’s longstanding and generous approach to their fan base, that loyal following might otherwise have been graced with a roughly thirty-five minute run time abridged playlist titled The Beatles.
Mitigating to some degree the self-centered approach adopted during the course of these recording sessions, the presence of Eric Clapton to solo for George Harrison’s “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” would be part of that collection, but nothing more of the latter’s: “Savoy Truffle” is self-indulgence pure and simple–are the horns homage to or satire of March ’68’s “Lady Madonna”?–while the ever-so-slight “Long Long Long” echoes the vacuity of “Blue Jay Way,” “It’s All Too Much” and “Only A Northern Song.”
Those insubstantial compositions belie Harrison’s blossoming as a tunesmith of high-quality material two years via his three contributions to Revolver. On the other hand, Ringo Starr arguably never reached that plateau except once (and then just barely) on 1971’s single “It Don’t Come Easy.” On this ninth Beatles studio album, “Don’t Pass Me By” suffers for lack of craft–was no one interested in this track but its author?–and the Lennon/McCartney tearjerker “Good Night” hearkens to the drummer’s first album under his own name, Sentimental Journey, a collection of pop standards the aforementioned duo were clearly emulating with their ‘original’ piece of treacle.
The hard rock portions of The Beatles, such as “Birthday” and “Helter Skelter,” might well have been included on solo albums to offset the lightweight likes of their hypothetical surroundings such as “The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill.” At the same time, Lennon’s “Yer Blues” encompassed his existential angst in one fell swoop, so much so it almost rendered obsolete John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band. Meanwhile,”Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey” would certainly have lent that dour and self-absorbed effort some welcome humor (the oldest Beatle’s early stock-in-trade as part of the foursome).
The track sequence for The White Album (appearing at the bottom of this piece) may or may not be in line with what long-time producer Martin foresaw in his stated vision for a single record configuration. But it does posit the Beatles as a unit far greater than the sum of its four members, while also proffering a more modest production, one curtailed from the lavish style of its predecessor (and squarely within the general ‘return to roots’ tenor of the times that ultimately led to 1969’s Get Back project).
Blasphemous though they might sound, such perceptions are bound to arise, in some but not all musiclovers and devotees of this mythic ensemble, with fifty-five years of retrospect. In the end, however, those very perspectives reaffirm the genius of the Beatles, albeit in a different and more disciplined form than the quartet could manage at that point in its career.
