A Wonderful Gift

 

"Let me tell you how it will be..."

I asked for nothing this season and, generally, I'm not really exchanging much.

It's sort of been that way for a few years. Is that desirable? No, but I'm also not a material person.

So it was that I was handed a bag today.

Sheepishly I opened it to find a copy of the newly remasted Revolver by The Beatles.

On vinyl.

Oh my.

If you've read this little pile of nonsense on the internet for even a little while you know that album is sacred to me.

Like, there's Sports by Huey Lewis and the News and Revolver. Then everything else.

Yes, I realize there's a super duper incredible edition that also exists and I can hear those other outtakes and so on at another time. I've heard some already. When all is said and done, it's the album -- those precious 12 tracks -- that is what matters.

I'll put it this way: I have the Anthology CDs from the 1990s. I don't have, for what it's worth, any of the other remastered albums that have come out in recent years. The Anthology CDs are cool for what they are but, to tell you the truth, I don't play them that much. Outtakes and rarities are awesome for sure but, when you get right down to it, isn't it the original work that we're after? 

I don't need the alternate take. I need the produced take that we all know.

This gift means so much for a few reasons:

- The first Beatles CD I bought after they became available in 1987 was, of course, Revolver. A mere look at the tracklist can explain why. It's a brilliant record.

- This is the first of the "modern" records that I've picked up since the album has become such a thing again over the past decade or so. Tempted as I've been, I've not bought anything. So it's been a while since my crate of vinyl has increased at all.

Today, my crate picked up one that I don't own. Oh, I have Revolver in that precious CD bought circa 1988 at Lechmere in Poughkeepsie, NY. But a vinyl version? Oh my no.

So, when I got home, given it was the middle of the day and the apartment (and, for that matter, the house) was empty, it was time to give the platter that matters a spin.

Oh my sweet Lord it sounded glorious.

That count-in into "Taxman" leading to the guitar and bass thumping out of my speakers could no doubt be heard in the street. The Cat was not amused.

He was less amused when the lonely people of "Eleanor Rigby" showed up. Then John Lennon's dreamy (pardon the pun) "I'm Only Sleeping" woke up.

Sometimes, George Harrison's Indian music could be greeted with derision but "Love You To" is pretty fantastic.

The classics rolled on. "Here There and Everywhere" (one of McCartney's best) led to a joyous sing-along on "Yellow Submarine" before side one ended with the criminally underappreciated, "She Said She Said."

Side two continues the glory with "Good Day Sunshine" and "And Your Bird Can Sing" before halting with the deep and emotive "For No One" featuring the work of Alan Civil on French horn.

That line, "And in her eyes, you see nothing No sign of love behind the tears," is simply gut-wrenching. 

"Dr. Robert" (thank you) takes us to another Harrison song (his third), "I Want to Tell You" which seems to lift the album off to new territory. Indeed, "Got to Get You Into My Life," Macca's ode to pot (and not about a girl he can't live without) does just that before the album finishes with the song that blew the doors off of Abbey Road's tape machines: "Tomorrow Never Knows."

It's a lot to consider, given we were only "Yeah yeah yeah ing" a few years earlier. The game had been changed.

Shockingly, nobody complained about the ruckus emerging from my flat here in Greenwich.

The 12 songs produced immeasurable joy in its vinyl capacity; exactly how many feel it should be heard. 

I just sat in my chair and took it all in as each groove rotated by, mindful of the cat looking at it.

The artwork by Klaus Voormann, the Lads' old friend from Hamburg who went on to play bass on several Beatles' solo albums, only adds to the intrigue of the record. He sketched each member before cutting out the individual pictures that make up the sleeve.

To me, this is timeless. While Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band reset music forever, this is an album -- the album -- that many Beatles fans point to as being the perfect example of their excellence.

That's exactly what it is for me, a stellar stretch from their early work that seemed to reach a new level with A Hard Day's Night into Help and Rubber Soul (taking nothing away from Beatles For Sale because all Beatles' music is pretty brilliant).

I'm not the best gift receiver. I'm awkward for sure.

But if this post doesn't express how much I'm overjoyed then I have some serious work to do.

Clearly, by the time it was over, I had turned off my mind so that I could "relax and float downstream."

"Thank you" will never be enough but I'm enormously grateful.

I hope this post serves as its own thank-you card.

Yes, the album is leaning on Rascal