The Beatles’ self-titled LP, commonly known as the “White Album”, is one of the most celebrated albums in pop history. Newspapers like the New Yorker deem the project an “accidental perfection”, music magazines like Pitchfork rate it a perfect 10, famous music nerds like Anthony Fantano unashamedly claim it’s their favourite album from The Beatles’ illustrious catalogue.
By releasing groundbreaking LPs Revolver and Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band in 1966 and ‘67 respectively, the fab four proved that not only have they mastered pop songwriting, but can pioneer genres (psychedelia), construct cohesive albums, and produce vivacious recordings. By 1968, The Beatles had reached the summit. But they wanted to change course.
Songwriter John Lennon said the album was The Beatles going “back to being a band again” and the more modest arrangements on The Beatles is a striking contrast of the summery dreamscapes that characterised many tracks off Sgt. Peppers: it carries the sound of four guys actually making music in a studio. Well, almost.
The White Album is also known as the beginning of the end of The Beatles. The recording sessions were tense: Lennon and Paul McCartney couldn’t write songs in tandem anymore, lead guitarist George Harrison was fed up of not being taken seriously as a songwriter, drummer Ringo Starr left the band temporarily because of the in-fighting. And, more importantly, the foursome were no longer taking the direction from their most significant member, producer George Martin.
Now writers like Glenn Greenberg have said that the extent to which the band members were at each other’s throats have been overblown: the fact that members were in separate recording rooms was more to do with recording efficiently than conflict. But I will say that The Beatles displays the absolute best and worst aspects of the band’s songwriting, the difficulty of executing a double LP, and ultimately a group not necessarily falling apart, but collapsing under the weight of their success.
The first three songs off the album are arguably the best opening tracks on any of the band’s LPs (perhaps Revolver’s opening trio of ‘Taxman’, ‘Eleanor Rigby’, and ‘I’m Only Sleeping’ pips it depending on my mood). McCartney’s ‘Back in the USSR’ is littered with hooks: the Beach Boys’ inspired backing vocals and lyrics makes the number a joy to listen to. Lennon’s ‘Dear Prudence’ has a nice hypnotic edge, largely thanks to the travis-style guitar picking, that balances out the pop-y opener. ‘Glass Onion’ is a groovy showcase of Lennon’s acerbic wit. A song mocking people’s tendency to read too much into his song lyrics, the string arrangements are delightful, especially at the end of the verses, providing the song with an element of melodrama that contrasts the witty lyrics.
But the White Album is uneven, jarringly so at times. For every McCartney track like ‘Birthday’ that display his expert understanding of pop sensibilities, or song like ‘Blackbird’ that demonstrate his undisputed gift for writing simple acoustic numbers; there are cuts such as ‘Wild Honey Pie’ (and ‘Honey Pie’), ‘Why Don’t We Do It in the Road’ that show McCartney’s tendency to be too goofy for his own good.
Mini epics like ‘Happiness is a Warm Gun’ display how glorious it is when Lennon’s songwriting is focused and ambitious, yet tracks such as ‘Everybody’s Got Something to Hide…’ are examples of how bad Lennon can be otherwise. The mesmerising ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’ reveals how beautiful Harrison’s songs are when he’s sincere, but songs such as ‘Piggies’ remind us how tepid his tracks can be, sounding as if he lacks self-belief.
The Beatles should not be a double LP: I agree with the late George Martin in this regard. Double albums are hard to execute because seldom do artists have that much to say in such a way that warrants the time demanded (rock operas are the most obvious exception). The Beatles were in more control of the production and it definitely shows: no way would Martin allow for trite tracks such as ‘I Will’ and ‘Julia’ to make the album let alone be paired together, for half of sides three and four to be put to tape, for the idea of ‘Revolution 9’ to exist.
It’s even more frustrating given the gems on the tracklist. Harrison’s ode to Eric Clapton’s love for confectionery ‘Savoy Truffle’ is sweetly produced and the vocal line “creme tangerine…” is as delicious as the chocolates described on the song. Special props for ‘Sexy Sadie’ as its piano riff not only inspired one of the best alt-rock songs in Radiohead’s ‘Karma Police’, but it’s just a great Beatles song: it has Lennon’s trademark harmonics, interesting lyrics, and delightful vocal arrangements. ‘Helter Skelter’ may have failed to be a heavier track than The Who’s classic ‘I Can See For Miles’, but it’s a brilliant example of hard pop.
The White Album isn’t perfection; isn’t a 10; isn’t my favourite Beatles album. It’s overrated, but don’t be mistaken – it has some of Lennon, McCartney, and Harrison’s best ever songs. It does present the fab four in a more gritty light which is refreshing given the popular mind’s eye has The Beatles as either four mop-tops singing ‘She Loves You’s or in fluorescent psychedelic attire singing about peace and love and walruses. The Beatles is what talented musicians outgrowing their band sounds like: it’s indulgent, unfocused, at times disinterested, in others inspired, all underpinned with the gnawing feeling that all involved aren’t having that much fun anymore.
Words by Keith Mulopo
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