There is a scene in the Steven Spielberg film Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade where our eponymous hero faces up to his latest nemesis, known to us only as Panama Hat. Panama Hat discovers the priceless Cross of Coronado in Indiana’s pocket. He remarks:
“This is the second time I’ve had to reclaim my property from you.”
Jones responds, ever protecting of the artifact: “That belongs in a museum!”
“So do you!” cackles our bad guy.
I use this diversion to illustrate one point: namely, the understandable reverence for The Beatles does occasionally lapse into regarding them and their music as some kind of untouchable museum piece. Every note of music, every syllable of dialogue, every lyric pored over with scrupulous and studied gaze, their ardent fan base akin to music archaeologists in search of a new lens, some new insight.
This latest release from the Fab Four will have said archaeologists salivating. The Beatles, known far better as The White Album, has seen its original double album length expanded to nearly six and a half hours of material including out-takes, retakes and the inclusion of the famed Esher demos. Throw in a new cleaned up mix of the original album itself by Guy Martin and one can see the ardent fans salivating at the potential riches on offer.
The real question to be answered, though, is whether or not this surfeit of material is actually worth one’s time and money. Do you actually learn anything more than your existing familiarity with these songs and this record in general? The answer, thankfully, is a resounding yes.
Memory has a bad habit of playing tricks on one’s mind so it is worth remembering that The White Album was regarded as being a bit bloated at the time; remember, this is the late 1960s where the album as a complete work of art was very much in its infancy. Today, our view of double albums has shifted significantly- through positive and negative observations of excess and through to savvy ways of opening up streaming opportunities on the likes of Spotify et al, the generosity of spirit was not always as forthcoming. Might adding even more to a record that already had everything including the kitchen sink on it (well, a jet engine at least) be a classic case of more equalling less? Thankfully, they have pulled it off.
First, the mix. It’s not just a cleaner sound. The mix is a substantial improvement. The jet engine “whoosh” at the start of ‘Back in the USSR’ is far more powerful and resonant; the hand claps on ‘Oh-Bla-Di, Oh-Bla-Da’ jump out at you like never before; the guitar part at the start of ‘Dear Prudence’ give you cause for deeper investigation. It’s not like you’re hearing the record for the first time but you do hear things that you had forgotten were there and you discover things that you probably have heard but not quite this effortlessly.
More though, the band sounds much more together as a group than many of the tales of strained relationships the Beatles mythology would have you believe. What’s brilliant about this version of the record is the band sound positively energised and clearly enjoying their interplay. This sense is doubly reinforced by the Esher demos where there is a discernible collective spirit at play. Take John Lennon, for example. For all his surly, snarky public persona, the demos reveal him as studied and determined but very much a member of a group, with all that expectation entails.
By contrast, the plucky bonhomie of Paul McCartney although much in evidence plays out in an unexpected way where his songs arrive fully formed and difficult to change them. In one notable example, ‘Helter Skelter’, one gets the sense that the song is in control of the artist, rather than the other way around. This is especially true on the 13-minute version included here, where McCartney battles his way through riffs and guitar parts; it’s the sonic version of trying to wrestle a bear to the ground. In the end, you’re not entirely sure whether he has succeeded. Elsewhere, the mix of the record adds sheen and polish but not to a level of artificiality. ‘Wild Honey Pie’ sounds psychotropic and genuinely weird; ‘Bungalow Bill’ continues to delight and infuriate in equal measure; Eric Clapton’s influence on ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’ undeniable but no less beguiling even after all these years.
‘Happiness is a Warm Gun’ is proof, if proof were needed, of The Beatles genius but also their perseverance. Taking nearly 100 goes to get this strange, beautiful song right has paid off handsomely. You can see the joins, but what joins these are. ‘Martha, My Dear’ continues to be gossamer light and inviting; ‘Blackbird’’s fragility still heartwarming; the acoustic guitar parts resonate with a directness and vibrancy that this author had forgotten. It is a song with genuine heart and soul. The less said about ‘Piggies’, the better. It was and remains, entirely without merit: the mix only underscoring the fact that there really is no beginning to its charms.
The rest of the album is as you remember it: largely, fondly. The invitation behind the scenes through the surfeit of riches on the demos is a fascinating experience but, ultimately, one’s view of this additional slew of extras will depend on your view of whether seeing behind the scenes is additive to one’s enjoyment and appreciation of the final art. As an example of observing songcraft from afar it is interesting and pointed; whether it is essential will depend on your level of Beatles obsession.
The White Album is The Beatles’ record that rock fans tend to gravitate towards. It’s the record where The Beatles become “dark” and “edgy”. Rock music’s two great shortcomings are its seemingly eternal quest for “authenticity” and the equally longstanding contention that dark/edgy equals profound insight find an entirely apposite home here on this double album. It’s the pop record its ok for rock fans to like. The great irony of The White Album is that The Beatles here don’t sound dark nor edgy but refreshed and creative. They also sound like a proper band which, for the strength of characters, egos and relationship dynamics at play here is some achievement indeed.
MAT DAVIES