Back in the earliest days of my Beatles obsession, I had relatively limited access to their music. My parents were never big fans, so the only albums I was able to inherit from them were my dad’s vinyl copies of the Red and Blue compilations. During a record shopping excursion in Philadelphia, I was elated to come across Abbey Road on vinyl for the bargain price of $2.98. It turned out that it skipped at the very end of “She Came in Through the Bathroom Window,” resulting in the final line of that song repeating ad nauseum (“Sunday’s on the phone to Monday, Tuesday’s on the phone to *vrrp* Sunday’s on the phone to Monday, Tuesday’s…”)

In order to get a taste of the rest of the catalog in those pre-YouTube, pre-Spotify days, I turned to 30-second samples on Amazon and Yahoo. Digging through the band’s early albums, the song titles were a lot less attention-grabbing than the ones found on the White Album–from the seemingly nonsensical “Glass Onion” to the curiously misspelled “Yer Blues,” there was Continue reading “#82: Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey” →

Writing about “Rocky Raccoon” is an inevitably losing proposition. Because no matter what jokes or elementary level of music criticism I’m able to produce, it will not be one iota as good as the lyrics to “Rocky Raccoon.” This is the most clever song the Beatles ever released. Meanwhile, a lot of folks in the media consider my other Beatles write-ups better than the songs themselves. For more info, read the cover story of next month’s Deaf Life magazine.

Let’s look at the characters we meet in “Rocky Raccoon”: Continue reading “#96: Rocky Raccoon” →

Ladies and gentlemen, introducing John Lennon, AKA the greatest troll in rock ‘n’ roll. As the Beatles’ lyrics became more…shall we say, obtuse, listeners were determined to interpret what the hell the band–well, let’s be frank and just call Lennon out, because he was the culprit–was talking about. “I Want to Hold Your Hand” in 1963? I think I understand. “I Am the Walrus, goo goo g’joob” four years later? Slightly less clear.

Considering what a rock icon Lennon is, it’s borderline bizarre how he approached popular music as a listener. He didn’t like seeing his favorite artists in concert, because live performances never exactly replicated the familiar sound of the records he loved. He also couldn’t fathom why fans would be compelled enough to analyze his lyrics. Why can’t they just turn off their minds and enjoy the music?

So John Lennon got an idea! An awful idea! John Lennon got a wonderful, awful idea!

“I know just what to do,” he said with Continue reading “#97: Glass Onion” →

One of the most gorgeous and endearing songs in the Beatles’ catalog, “Good Night” not only serves as a palette cleanser from the atrocious “Revolution 9,” but caps off the entire White Album so perfectly. After a chaotic ride through 29 songs that run the gamut both stylistically and qualitatively, we finish with this lovely lullaby written by John and sung delicately by Ringo.

As a result of singing songs like this and “Yellow Submarine” (not to mention hosting Thomas the Tank Engine), Ringo is an obvious choice to be the preferred Beatle of children, but most people grow out of that. That doesn’t mean we should Continue reading “#133: Good Night” →

Time for me to be a hypocrite. I ranked “I Wanna Be Your Man” the worst original Beatles song largely due to its lousy, basic 18-word vocabulary. “Why Don’t We Do it in the Road?” clocks in at just 17 unique words, yet here it is, nearly 75 slots higher. I mean, obviously there are plenty of legitimate reasons for that which I’ll get into, but I’ll admit, that’s a pretty wide jump. You’re probably thinking, Continue reading “#136: Why Don’t We Do it in the Road?” →

There’s very little middle ground when it comes to rock drummers–they’re either highly regarded (Nirvana’s Dave Grohl, Led Zeppelin’s John “Bonzo” Bonham, Rush’s Neil Peart) or unjustly ridiculed (pretty much every other drummer on the planet). The running joke is that it’s every band’s worst fear when their happy-go-lucky drummer, once so content to pound on the tom-toms however he was instructed to and occasionally perform a drum solo during a concert when the rest of the group needed a bathroom break, writes a song for the next album.

Ringo Starr–or rather, Richard Starkey–has just two individual writing credits to his name with the Beatles. That’s a grand total of Continue reading “#139: Don’t Pass Me By” →

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who prefer the fast, distorted version of “Revolution” that served as the b-side to “Hey Jude,” and those–John Lennon among them–who favor the gentler, bouncy “Revolution 1” you’ll find on the White Album. However, there are no people in the world who would opt for what is oh-so-diplomatically referred to as a “sound collage,” “Revolution 9.”

In fairness, if I didn’t have both renditions to choose from, I’d certainly give “Revolution 1” more love, but it’s Continue reading “#142: Revolution 1” →

It’s quite fitting that “Good Morning, Good Morning” is followed on the ranking by my response any time someone says that to me…”I’m So Tired.” This is one of those songs that really displays why the White Album is the Beatles’ best album while being pound-for-pound their worst. Individually, I’d consider “I’m So Tired” solid, maybe even intriguing, but not outstanding. In the context of the controlled chaos that is the White Album, though, it works perfectly.

John’s cool, hazy vocal delivery perfectly suits his hesitant lyrics during the verses, but like any bout of restlessness, the chorus packs a passionate punch. The song is probably best known for directly dissing Continue reading “#143: I’m So Tired” →

Before George Harrison dedicated large chunks of his solo albums to songs about his devotion to the Almighty, he wrote some biting lyrics chastising those who worship a different power, the almighty dollar. “Taxman” is his most famous financial finger-pointing, but “Piggies” may be Continue reading “#151: Piggies” →

On the surface, “Savoy Truffle” is kind of a novelty song. George Harrison lists off a bunch of fancy candy varieties in a gentle ribbing of his pal Eric Clapton, a chocoholic/problem dental patient. George had a habit of poking fun at Eric’s foibles in song, like when he recorded an awful cover of Continue reading “#158: Savoy Truffle” →