Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
With a Little Help from My Friends
Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds
Getting Better
Fixing a Hole
She's Leaving Home
Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Within You, Without You
When I'm Sixty-Four
Lovely Rita
Good Morning, Good Morning
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise)
A Day in the Life
Among all the masterpieces recorded by the Beatles, I feel like starting to review here among you, the worst album by the Fab Four: "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart Club Band", the eighth Beatles album in five years.
It is no secret that the four used acids and the like, and with this album they show the damage that drugs cause to the brain, damages very similar to those a good lobotomy can cause.
Probably, it was by realizing the enormous mountain of dung they had written that our four disguised themselves by announcing themselves at the beginning of the record as the Sgt. Pepper's Club Band (it was probably the record companies that didn't want to tarnish the good name of the Beatles)
Even the recording presents flaws, indeed note that between the first track and the second (With A Little Help From My Friends) there is no break, as if it were a little work recorded in the rehearsal room just to spend an afternoon in acid cheerfulness..
Let's move on to the dreadful "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds": now, it was clear they wanted to make an anthem to LSD, but at least do it properly! The bass, horrendously out of time, played by a bassist who now thinks more about skirts than notes, is almost covered by lyrics as crazy as they are empty. And speaking of lack of content, how can we not mention the atrocity of Lennon with "Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite!", starting from the exclamation point in the title.. what does it represent?!?!? Why?? Here, however, we compensate for the lexical ramblings with a hodgepodge of noises passed off as music (totally unrelated and out of any logical scheme).
God save us! Finally, something decent arrives: good old George Harrison patches it up with "Within You Without You", the only true flag of the record where Eastern and Western cultures blend into a sublime mix. However, this pleasant feeling is abruptly interrupted by "When I'm Sixty-Four", probably the honky tonk style is a blatant tribute to the saloon-style brothel where Lennon was conceived.
Just as Lennon-esque is "Good Morning, Good Morning" a track that seems to have come out of a local network commercial at 6 o'clock in the morning (when the 899 commercials just ended and they still don't know which programs to start). Realizing that, besides being unlistenable, it was also short, as the penultimate song, they place a reprise of the first, slightly changing the words so that the stoned listeners wouldn't notice.
As if everything else wasn't enough, the agony ends with "A Day in the Life", in which Sir Paul sings irreverently about his love for a British MP who died in an accident shortly before.
As evidence of the negligence of our guys on this record, towards the end of the fade-out when the sound fades, a rustle of papers and the creaking of a chair can be heard, noises that no one bothered to cut.
In short, the Beatles did create masterpieces... but they could definitely have spared us such an unworthy abortion like this one... and even today, I can't fathom how some people dare to call it a record, even Wonderful, not realizing that they have in their hands the sickly vomit of four delirious drug addicts.
The most beautiful track on the album is the closing one: A Day In The Life is perhaps one of the most beautiful and modern songs by the Beatles.
She’s Leaving Home still manages to move me, blending perfectly in the myriad of bright lights and colors of the album.
"’A Day In The Life’ is the masterpiece above another 4-5 masterpieces, I seriously wouldn’t know how to define it."
"It’s like going to the theater and seeing 4 strangely dressed guys doing strange things singing natural, human music."
The whole class watches him squirm like a Houdini of the urban underclass, the new feminist girls then... kick the male chauvinist bear and spit rains down everywhere.
Davide X instead of lady laxatives could have found with unchanged results... a copy of the already much-mentioned Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Although inferior to contemporary "hard" rock songs by The Who, Rolling Stones or Kinks, it perhaps has the merit of introducing this kind of music to less attentive listeners.
A masterpiece that seems to have no weak points... you won’t hear it played in any dance entertainment for sixty-year-old professionals. Chapeau.
"Sgt. Pepper’s should be protected by an impenetrable case to avoid attacks from any deterrent agent of natural or artificial origin."
"Anyone who loves rock music and beyond MUST own ‘Sgt. Pepper’s.’"