An amazing read was posted into the #pvponline chat a little bit ago that chronicled an
alternative history to the ending of the Beatles. I don't want to rehash the whole story here, but it is an epic read and you need to spend the time to finish it.
Hearing about every moment of what the Beatles could have been if they had been the gods the world expected to be was... Compelling. The failings of each of them, from Lennon's need to be understood completely ending with his entanglement with Yoko Ono to Starr's feelings of inadequacy when the band wasn't working in harmony, changed things much more extensively than such failings would change the life of mere mortals like us. Every movement of theirs was amplified, magnified. It wasn't fair to them, but I guess that's the way it goes. But I didn't really want to write about that.
I had my Beatles discovery at 14, rather late I know. And it wasn't even from the music itself. It was from a Sci-fi story called "The 14th Album." That might, in fact, not be the name of it. But it's how I always remember it. It was a story about two people in a post-apocalyptic London who discover a room in a wrecked ship with the most extensive record collection they've ever seen, alphabetized and laid out around the room which featured a wind up record player. The two men sit down and start listening to the albums sequentially.
The story continues with personal thoughts and reflections on not only the spirit of the music, but the tonality, the way the Beatles must have felt at the time, and the slight changes the listeners hear from how they remembered the songs. As the albums spin on the listeners start discovering differences in the music, extra verses, hoarse braying of McCartney taking on solos that once only Lennon was allowed to touch. And then it ends with the discovery of a 14th album. One that neither one had heard of before.
I remember reading this story and vaguely understanding the concepts of what the author was saying, having heard my father debate The Beatles with his friends night after night. But the individual songs, I didn't know. I hadn't really ever LISTENED to the Beatles. So I grabbed "Please Please Me" on cassette that my father had faithfully copied, and set out for a walk.
I did that for almost two weeks until I had heard all the albums. Then I started over. Every day I'd grab a new album, discovering the Beatles for the first time. When I got to "Hey Jude" I sat down and cried. I skipped down the road to Lady Madonna. I sat in solitude and prayed to Let it Be. I'd let the last chord die out and then replay it. Over and over.
Tapes begin to wear out. I had to replace part of my dads collection. When the full compilation was released with "1" in the mid 90s I had to buy it. One day I was on my normal walk heading down to the park when a couple of guys who were up to no good started making trouble in my neighborhood.
I got in one little fight and my mom got scared she said "You're moving with your uncle and Auntie to Bel Aire." I whistled for a cab and when it came near the license plate said "Fresh" and there were dice in the mirror. If anything I thought that this cab was rare but I said man, forget it. "Yo holmes! To Bel Aire!" I pulled up to the house about seven or eight and I yelled to the cabbie "Yo holmes smell ya later." I looked at my kingdom, I was finally there, to sit on my throne as the prince of Bel Aire.
Ball-change.
