A Brilliant Concept that Should Have Produced More Hits

If you were to ask me to name a Beatles album, the first to come to mind would most likely be Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. It’s just one of those iconic albums, though I wouldn’t have been able to tell you until recently what was on it. I might have been able to produce the comment that it boasts an extremely fun cover, with the Beatles front and center, all decked out in the fancy duds of the aforementioned band, surrounded by a wide array of personages including wax versions of themselves and plenty of famous folks. The flowers spelling out “BEATLES” just in front of the drum bearing the fictional band’s name complete the colorful vision. At some point I would also have thought to mention that this was a concept album, considered quite innovative and a great motivator to Paul Simon in writing the material for Bookends. It would not have occurred to me that none of the tracks on this landmark effort managed to hit number one on the charts. When I discovered that, I deemed it a great irony. Perhaps it happened because this album, more than most, was intended to be taken as a whole, so singling out individual tracks would seem a bit inappropriate. Whatever the reason, it’s certainly not a lack of quality.

Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band is a rather raucous number that introduces the idea that this album is a concert by the title band. Some of the instruments used give the feel of a marching band, while cheers and applause on the track land the listener squarely in a concert frame of mind. Paul’s rather hoarse vocals present the idea that he has to scream out his announcement over the audience in order to be heard. Because of this, it’s not a terribly melodic song, but it’s fun nonetheless and an essential element of the album.

I first knew With a Little Help From My Friends as the theme song to The Wonder Years. It was years before I heard the original version, and I was so used to the almost mournful cover by then that I had a bit of trouble adjusting to Ringo’s bouncy rendition. My brother Nathan, the most devoted Beatlemaniac in a family full of them, was aghast when I suggested I might like the television version better; he dislikes it almost as much as Karen Carpenter’s dirge-like Ticket to Ride. I can’t help but feel a bit of loyalty to the first version I hear of a song. But Ringo’s snappy version wins out for me now. His role as the perpetually optimistic underdog makes him especially appropriate for the song’s lyrics, and it’s one of my favorite tracks on the album.

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds is an extraordinarily bizarre song in which John takes the lead. I always subscribed a bit to the LSD theory, though the explanation that it was inspired by a child’s drawing is more appealing – or, in the end, is it more disturbing? I can’t get over the line “rocking horse people eat marshmallow pies.” Nathan said the song sounds exactly like something that would come out of the head of a little kid – or someone tripping on LSD. Funny how that works… The lyrics are an eerie mishmash of surrealistic images, and the vocal distortion leaves me with the feeling of riding through a series of funhouse doors painted with a mirror-like succession of squares. (This is a specific reference to the Wacky Shack, an attraction at my hometown park of Waldameer, and it’s the creepiest part of the ride.) It’s an interesting song to listen to, certainly, and I enjoyed its significance in the film I Am Sam. I don’t know whether I prefer puzzling out the psychedelics of the original version of laughing out loud over William Shatner’s tunelessly over-the-top attempt to do it justice. Either way, it’s a standout track that I couldn’t believe never hit number one. Then again, maybe it’s not such a surprise…

I’m sure I heard another version of Getting Better first, but I don’t know whose. I imagine it popped up on a commercial somewhere. At any rate, this is a very upbeat song with a positive chorus to balance out the chorus listing some negative past experiences. Paul’s voice is in prominence in one of the album’s only songs with a romantic element.

Fixing a Hole is an interesting song, again with Paul in the lead. I have trouble latching onto just what is happening in this song. On the surface it’s just a man making repairs to his house, but it seems to function on a metaphorical level as well. Or is he just saying that he’s too distracted by the condition of his house to think about the things he wants to think about? I hear a hint of Zen here, I think. Anyway, it has an intriguing melody and unique subject. It also makes me chuckle because I’m always reminded of the Letterman parody during one edition of “Stump the Band”: “I’m dressing myself in a masculine way / to stop my friends from wondering / if I’m gay…”

She’s Leaving Home is one of the songs this album introduced me to. My first thought was, “Gee, this is a really depressing song.” Drenched in strings as it is, with Paul’s sensitive vocals and the almost falsetto descant of the remaining group members chiming in on the chorus, this song sounds every bit as melancholy as Eleanor Rigby. The lyrics, replete with internal rhyme and creative phrasing, are especially well-crafted and brimming with regret, particularly on the part of the parents: “What did we do that was wrong? We didn’t know it was wrong.” I’m reminded of the plaintive plea in Simon and Garfunkel’s considerably less melodic Save the Life of My Child. Both seem to focus on the generation gap – the frustration of the youth in feeling stifled, of the parents in failing to understand where their children are coming from. Though the overall tone is tragic and we can’t help but sympathize with the parents, there’s also the sense that the daughter who is leaving is entering a new world of opportunity, and in that sense her part of the story is happier than not. I wasn’t sure what to think of this song at first, but it’s really grown on me, to the point of possibly being my favorite song on the album.

Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite! features John, and it seems sort of random. It’s basically a commercial for an upcoming circus-like event, featuring one Mr. Kite and the Henderson family (and, of course, the waltzing Henry the Horse, which we almost feel like we see thanks to the extended instrumental bit following this announcement). The instrumentation all helps listeners feel as though they are at a circus. It’s a fun little song, but it’s sort of an oddity, and the lack of a chorus adds to the tune’s somewhat rambling feel.

Within You Without You is far more rambling, however; my brother describes it as “the song nobody loves.” That’s a shame, because it’s the only song on the album starring George. When I sit down and look at them, I quite like the lyrics, which reflect George’s deepening spirituality. However, listening to it, I find I can hardly make them out. They seem dim and distant, difficult to hear under the sea of sitars. The melody has a mystical sound to it and evokes India readily, but it carries all the hypnotic quality of chanting, and I find it hard to imagine it getting much airtime. It’s the sort of song likely to put a listener to sleep.

When I’m Sixty-Four is a very upbeat song that takes the idea of entering one’s later years and faces it with humor and optimism. My other favorite song on the album, it’s sung by Paul and boasts a peppy tempo as listeners are invited to envision the speaker growing old comfortably with his wife. The clarinet that is accentuated throughout the song adds to its charm. There are a few nice harmonic moments on the lines suggesting rough patches ahead (“you’ll be older too,” “we shall scrimp and save”) in which cooperation with one another will be mutually beneficial. It’s a far happier look at senior citizenship than that offered by Simon and Garfunkel in the wistful Old Friends. True, the mentioned age is six years younger, but it feels about 30 years younger. Ringo is 64 this year, and somehow that carries with it a series of pleasant images instead of the dread that comes with contemplating Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel turning 70 in less than seven years. Both comical and poignant, this is one of the Beatles’ sweetest love songs, with a hint of Do You Love Me? from Fiddler on the Roof. It’s also perhaps my favorite sequence in Yellow Submarine.

Lovely Rita is an upbeat narrative number featuring Paul and introducing an eccentric character. It’s an entertaining number with fun lyrics, though it doesn’t really make much of an impression on me and I don’t quite get the odd noises that punctuate its conclusion. They seem to have a thing for putting weird stuff at the end of their songs…

Good Morning Good Morning also features an array of strange noises, but I don’t mind these. It begins with the crowing of a rooster that continues throughout the song, and apparently by the end every creature in a ten-mile radius has arisen. A cat, a dog and even an elephant make an appearance. John takes the lead in this energetic song that also includes quite a bit of brass, making sure that the listeners are wide awake as well.

Not really much to say about Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise), because it just picks up where the first track left off, bringing the album full circle. Basically the same song, though perhaps I prefer this one because there isn’t any shouting.

Paul and John share lead vocals A Day in the Life on another strange one that has a melancholy feel to begin with, though it gradually morphs at a couple points into a very cheery sounding song, reminding me of several 80s odes that never seem to end and appear to contain two or three distinct songs within their boundaries. After a lengthy stretch of seemingly dead air, the end deteriorates into craziness, and I must say I find the effect unsettling to say the least. It makes for a very odd ending to the album.

Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band is a remarkably creative album, a Herculean effort approximately 700 hours in the making that set a precedent many musicians would try to follow. This is the mature Beatles, far removed from their skiffle days and doing as much musical experimentation as they could. Several of the songs are what I would consider essential Beatles tracks, while others resonate more with me personally. There are a couple songs that don’t really do it for me, but all are excellent examples of the Beatles’ exquisite artistry. Don’t miss it.