Apple - 1968
9.5/10
Really, the best way to sum up the self-titled Beatles album, commonly known as “The White Album” would be this; on my first listen, I didn’t care much for it. On my fifth listen, I found it intriguing as hell. On my twentieth listen, I fucking loved it. A double-album with wild popularity that clocks in past the hour and a half mark is certainly a force to be reckoned with, and it really shouldn’t be a surprise that it’s a long journey of “what the hell is the appeal here?” “is this just a bunch of filler?” and “damn, this smokes hard!” Contrary to popular belief, no, you do not need to be high or tripping to enjoy this, because needing a supplement would mean the music isn’t good enough on its own.
Indeed, Paul McCartney and co. made that fatal flaw with Yellow Submarine, not The Beatles. It takes patience, not drugs, two things I seldom associate with myself. Yet, I managed to soak in every bit of this with repeat listens through the years. What does it come down to? Four corners of a broad picture; dark psychedelic, warm psychedelic, political climate reaction, and horny spouting. But what makes it interesting is that none of them can be pinned down to one outlet. In fact, so much of this is so different that the inconsistency becomes the constant factor in and of itself; it’s the common connection that everything shares, and a massive reflection of the world at the time. I understand how generic this sounds, but hear me out.
First off, both psychedelic angles here play the most crucial role, bouncing off of each other to show a gradual descent into disorientation and uncertainty. But what do I mean by “warm” and “dark?” This should be obvious. The goofy energy of “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” represents comfort within a shell that’s still somewhat nonsensical. It has little in the vein of disorientation, unlike “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” a counterpart focusing on the same band aspect but uses harder production to give off a very mildly bleak tension beside a piano. At the end of the day, though, it’s catchy, and the rhythm section is on par with the other stronger rock ‘n roll licks. Folkier elements from the previous era can be found in the acoustic “Blackbird,” channeling the rising duo Simon & Garfunkel. Lyrically and poetically, the flow allows it to slip right in with the rest of this chaotic dynamic. Putting “Piggies” right after this was truly a good move, as the harpsichord and symphonic instrumentation pull the listener into a different direction of uncertainty. By this point, most of the catchier aspects are behind us.
But what of the dark, metal-adjacent “Helter Skelter?” Riding on completely opposing energy, this is a riff-driven number with clouds and must, letting loose the rare vocal fury that shakes the very foundation of the late ‘60s rock era. It should only be natural that everything fits within the overton window of “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” and “Helter Skelter,” with only one exception that we’ll return to later. The perfect balance shows itself in “The Continuing Story Of Bungalow Bill,” one as goofy as the former but shedding itself of the comfort aspect. “Cry Baby Cry” on the other hand is dry, dreary, and reflects a final step before a complete descent into the full trip introduced in the unsettling “Wild Honey Pie.” Callbacks to this track drop harder hints as the record progresses; whether intentional or not. These can often be snuck into the more straightforward tracks, even centered on political mockery and hornier ones around women.
Speaking of which, the Vietnam-era Cold War scaries pair very well with the acid-rock escapism element. Opening with “Back In The U.S.S.R.” was a bold move. The surfy tune is one of the least representative of the rest of the album, yet catches the attention of the masses fast. Truly a near-punk rock move, singing of such controversial topics under a clean and simplistic (yet oddly sarcastic) umbrella. There’s so much space between it and the dreary “Revolution I,” a far more fitting number utilizing gang vocals. It brings us back to reality for a hot second, and in hindsight it’s no wonder this caused such controversy in its time. Yet, speaking of the girls from different Soviet states does lend a nod towards the upcoming “Sexy Sadie,” “Why Don’t We Do It In The Road,” and “Julia,” three songs that have almost nothing in common besides the sexual expression. The last of those is wickedly overlooked, in my opinion, almost calling back to “Yesterday” through an acidic cry for help.
That leaves us with the elephant in the room; “Revolution 9.” This is the full collapse of the constant battle between reality and a bad trip. Little pieces of both of these recurring themes fully surface in every corner of the album, the more relatable political or love songs being the obvious broadcast of stability. The darker, or dreary tunes, however, have been hinting at this since the dramatic shift between opener “Back In The U.S.S.R.” fading into “Dear Prudence,” leaving things memorable enough while dropping a hint that something just isn’t right. “Revolution 9” realizes every single corner at once, reaching the point of being unable to stay above the water and invoking panic, disorientation, uncertainty, political strife, and ultimately an artistic representation of fear. Sure, this may have been a controversial John Lennon idea that basically furthered the mini-Satanic panic, but this is my review, my interpretation, and how it fits for my purposes.
Lyrics have seldom been mentioned here, and that’s done on purpose for two reasons. For one, they should be interpreted by the listener due to how unclear all of it is; everything written here is how I look at it. Secondly, it’s more about the music than it is about the lyrics, which I think people overlook. Too many focus on the lyrics and not the artistic construction, which likely points to why so many call certain songs “fillers” or don’t appreciate “Revolution 9.” If every song represents a film director’s take on The Beatles, that’s easily a David Lynch-type representation. Focusing on the wrong parts of an album can yield the same results of doing that in a film, but I guess we can’t promise that every film dork will make the connection.
So really, what is there to criticize from my end? For one, “Birthday,” while being one of the most notable tracks, feels out of place more than anything. As one of my least favorites from the album, it’s important to note that it may ring in the same energy as “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da,” but fails to make the connection to anything else the way that one does. It’s hard to not fit in on an album where nothing fits in, but this one just feels like a blend between the boy band era revisited and a throwaway KISS song before KISS was even a thing. The only other issue is “Good Night,” less of a song and more of a closer. Capping off with “Revolution 9” would have been so much more compelling than this “awakening” send-off that also represents… going to sleep? I digress; these are such minor errors. Furthermore, I get a sensation that most will have completely different problems with The Beatles then I will anyway.
What matters is that of the entire psychedelic era, this is The Beatles at their ballsiest, most controversial moment, and I can’t help but feel like this very album inspired so many ideas that came to fruition in the ‘70s, namely heavy metal and punk rock. Hell, even Metallica made a “black album” as an obvious nod (despite having virtually no musical ties to this). All I can say is that before you decide how you feel about it, listen to it several times. Different settings, different moods, and let it collect some dust before returning. Use drugs if you must, but if you walk away with nothing else, just know that they are not needed to enjoy this.
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