THE BEATLES
Revolver (1966)
Parlophone/Capitol
Produced by GEORGE MARTIN

The Beatles' creativity during the mid-Sixties was unstoppable. Each of their records up to this point had been a step forward from the last but a reasonably smooth transition at that. RUBBER SOUL was surely the best of the first half-dozen, and arguably their best ever, but even it wasn't too many worlds away from its predecessor, HELP!. The songs were better but the production values and overall sound remained similar. Not so for REVOLVER, the Beatles' seventh LP. It is, it seems, an effortlessly huge stride into orbit, both in compsition and recording, and can now be seen as the beginning -- and best example -- of the band's psychedelic period; in addition, to this day it remains the greatest showcase ever of the talents of Mr. Paul McCartney.

There is little doubt that more experimentation went on with the sheer sounds of recording during the REVOLVER sessions than at any other point in the history of studio-driven rock music. It's the first Beatles record, and probably the first record by anyone, that was considered by the band impossible to play live and as such was looked upon as something entirely separate from their live act; no REVOLVER songs were performed on their final tour, taking place at the time of REVOLVER's release. I'll talk about the songs in a minute but I should say that because of the wild sonics it brings forth, it is the sound of REVOLVER that sticks to you, not so much the songs; in this respect REVOLVER is reminiscient of the Beatles' best-known longplayer, SGT. PEPPER'S LONELY HEARTS CLUB BAND, released a year later. From this point onward, every Beatles recording sounds as if it could very easily burst from the radio today. Such is the innovation of George Martin and his four faithful soldiers.

The person who is most on a creative roll throughout these tracks is not any of the Beatles so much as it is their producer. REVOLVER is a masterpiece, but it may well be his more than the Beatles'. He gleefully puts hard rock into claustophobic compression in "Taxman," and evokes the creeping, crawling electronic unknown in "Tomorrow Never Knows." Never before was every single track on an album so far into a world of its own, lending the record an almost circular feel in its two divisions (hence the title, perhaps?). The cover of REVOLVER is black and white, but thanks to Martin every single note is shimmering with brilliant color. Somehow he puts into his aural textures things that simply can't be expressed in audio... the drowsiness of "I'm Only Sleeping," the warm ecstasy of "Here, There, and Everywhere," the drug-induced misery of "She Said She Said," the oceanic simplicity of "Yellow Submarine," the triumphant bliss of "Got You Get You into My Life" and "Good Day Sunshine"... I could easily go on. I disagree with the notion that George Martin was merely an interpreter of genius; I believe REVOLVER proves that he is a genius himself, and an awe-inspiring one at that, matched only by Brian Wilson in his ability to make music so much more than music.

However, the main difference between REVOLVER and SGT. PEPPER'S is that you could completely strip the production away from REVOLVER, making it a sequel of sorts to the much simpler RUBBER SOUL, and still have outstanding music. These are classic songs beyond any doubt. Just as SOUL was John Lennon's finest hour, with his heart on his sleeve in "Norwegian Wood," "Girl," and "In My Life," REVOLVER is full of utterly mind-blowing work from Paul McCartney, whose own genius has become debatable since the disintegration of the Beatles. Let there be no doubt. The man was phenomenal in his day, and he'll never change that no matter how many times he rewrites "My Love" and "Uncle Albert" and releases albums called FLAMING PIE. "Eleanor Rigby," "Good Day Sunshine," "Got to Get You into My Life," "For No One," and, in particular, "Here, There, and Everywhere" are unabashedly glorious. At last he has learned to consistently write excellent lyrics, and even though Lennon's influence is certain, most notably in that last one with its repetition of the three title words, the style is very much his own. The words to "Good Day Sunshine," for example, beautifully convey open joy, and John never could have written them.

Meanwhile, consider the great contradictions here: Lennon, a genius on the last record, stumbles aimlessly through this one and sounds high for its entire duration; his often droll, odd compositions are livened up, though, by the producer's playful tinkering. Lennon pulls himself together for a dryly lethargic, fabulously cynical lullaby ("I'm Only Sleeping") and for a pair of terrifying rockers ("She Said She Said," which has many of the same problems as his other meandering work of the period, and "Tomorrow Never Knows") that display the mental agony of substance abuse. In addition, elsewhere on the disc, George Harrison at last reaches brilliance with his sardonic "Taxman." Put all this together and you get a set of songs of undeniable glory.

But again, the magic of REVOLVER is all in its multifaceted, more artful than psychedelic, soundscapes that seem to stretch forever in all directions and have no qualms about letting you in on their technicolor secrets. George Martin knew something that Paul McCartney has long forgotten: that classic records are made with production as an embellishment to wonderful music, not music written solely for its production. Let's not discount the band, though: the Beatles' talent was in making their music accessible even in its oddest moments, and REVOLVER manages to be avant-garde without overriding the Beatles' staggering immediacy. In other words, it's weird, yet it's pop. Hell, it's more than either of those simple terms can describe. You can call the next record their proudest acheivement if you like, but REVOLVER is the Beatles' greatest work of art.

Wait, I'm not done yet. Is it so wrong of me to yearn for WITH THE BEATLES all through this? The truth is, art goes in a museum. Maybe well-sung filler like "I Want to Tell You," "And Your Bird Can Sing," and tepid material like "Doctor Robert" doesn't, but my point stands: REVOLVER is meant to be listened to, not experienced. Save a few of Paul's songs, compared to RUBBER SOUL it is ice-cold. Art and rock & roll are two different things. REVOLVER is good art and mediocre rock & roll. This was the direction the band would continue to pursue for the next year, and although their exhaustion with their medium is understandable, with the '60s now long gone this album seems like a bizarre juxtaposition... the point when the purpose and ideals of the band suddenly changed. The pure ecstacy of the classic recordings would never be heard again. For a new listener, REVOLVER could be a revelatory listen. For an experienced one, it's fun but starkly impersonal. I don't want "the moptops" back... but that doesn't mean I don't prefer emotional, vibrant songs to studio trickery. Sadly, this album would seem emotional and vibrant compared to its followup. Thanks to George Martin, the transition is seamless on both albums. It's after they've faded that the truth hits you.