It Was 40 Years Ago Today

It really had been awhile since I'd listened to a Beatles album front to back (talk about an anachronism), but I was vaguely aware that this month marked the 40th anniversary of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. I'd listened to that album more times than I can count, both during my cycles of obsessive Beatle fandom and in between cycles when I just want something lush and shiny in the background. I've read everything about the making of the thing, and I really thought I knew it inside and out.

The media have all paid tribute to the anniversary, mostly repeating the same points. Pepper was not the only influential album released in the Summer of Love (which saw breakthrough releases by The Doors, Hendrix, and Jefferson Airplane), and while there is no critical consensus on the best Beatles album (and never should be), the debate has moved away from Pepper and now tends to center on either its predecessors Revolver and Rubber Soul, or the final days of the band, Abbey Road and Let It Be. But tellingly, nobody blogged about Revolver's anniversary last year. In terms of "defining moments of rock," the Sergeant still is the king.

In terms of the Beatles catalogue, Pepper was something that in retrospect seems inevitable. Songs about subjects other than relationships appeared as early as Rubber Soul (Nowhere Man); by Revolver, cryptic lyrics were everywhere, and experiments with classical (Eleanor Rigby), Indian (Love You To), and electronic instrumentation (Tomorrow Never Knows) were underway. But it took until Pepper for the world to really understand what the Beatles had become -- and what rock and roll could become -- and it hit them like a ton of bricks. Aside from the wackiness of the whole thing -- the "alter ego" band, (which everyone from Bowie to MCR would imitate), the consistent yet eclectic sonic atmosphere that floated seamlessly between the psychedelic and the twee, all those damn horns -- and aside from the sheer beauty and genius of the songs (A Day In The Life...nuff said), Pepper was a watershed moment for the rock industry. It changed radio, with songs that were longer than three minutes and a rich orchestral backdrop that took full advantage of stereo, thus impacting the switch from AM to FM. It changed the way albums were conceived of, both musically as a cohesive, conceptual whole, and artistically as an object with its elaborate, fold-out cover and lyrics printed on the back. (Alas, the latter is quickly disappearing in the age of digital downloads. I have acquired entire albums with barely an idea of the cover image, much less the design on the disk itself, or the booklet printed inside. It's a shame, because the aesthetics of an album package are somehow inseparable from the musical experience.)

So I didn't really think there was anything new or interesting to say about this album. But then I saw an article called "Everything You Know About Sgt. Pepper's Is Wrong." And lo and behold, it kind of is:
"If Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band doesn't have a concept, it does have a theme. It's a record about England in the midst of whirling change, a humorous, sympathetic chronicle of an old culture convulsed by the shock of the new—by new music and new mores, by rising hemlines and lengthening hair and crumbling caste systems. In short, it's a record about the transformations that the Beatles themselves, more than anyone else, were galvanizing."

I had never before thought about this, but it rang true to me, and more than anything else, it made me want to listen to it again. I popped it out of its technicolor jewel case and inserted it into my CD stereo, silently mourning the lack of vinyl and needles in my life. And the act we've known for all these years played again, for the first time.