Bad Beatles Renaissance: Let It Be

Let It Be is the Windows Registry of Beatles albums: a bad execution of a bad idea (ending hoity-toity IT humor now). When the group seemed to be at its most tense, Paul decided it would be a good idea to pile on the additional pressures of a film crew and live show and an unfamiliar producer, and for some reason no one talked him out of this.

Let It Be is regarded as a classic, one of the group's best albums, but I honestly don't see it that way--I rather regard it as a supremely interesting failure that was salvaged into a telling if not-completely-satisfying swan song. You can read the full history of the album on Wikipedia, but the short version is that the group went into the studio angry at each other and recorded an underwhelming product that could not be shelved because it was tied to a film release. Since their normal producer (George Martin) and engineer (Geoff Emerick) had washed their hands of the group already, The Beatles handed the tapes over to Glyn Jons (twice) and finally Phil Spector, who was able to put together a release that most of the world hates him for.

Everything about this album screams ambition-gone-awry. What was to be a live showcase or perhaps tour or television event ended up as a small rooftop concert for a handful of friends. What was to be a back-to-basics-no-more-studio-trickery album because a mecca of overdubs and edits. What was to be a film about the making of an album became a tabloid spectacle about workplace dysfunction. And after recording hundreds of songs during their studio sessions, the final album was short by Beatles standards (only twelve songs and the shortest running time since Revolver). Of the twelve tracks, Maggie Mae and Dig It don't even pretend to not be filler, For You Blue pretends rather unconvincingly to not be is filler, and two more weren't even taken from those sessions (Across the Universe, which was edited from previous recordings, and I Me Mine, which was recorded after the Abbey Road sessions and after John Lennon had quit the band).

The songs that made the cut are hugely dependent on 12-bar-blues jams. Both of George's contributions (I Me Mine and For You Blue) fit this mold, as does John's One After 909, and as such they feel a bit under-written, although I Me Mine is quite a bit more whole than the other two. John's only other new contribution takes the form of Dig a Pony which is good, but simplistic, having no bridge and lyrics that are bizarre to the point of nonsensical. That's it. Lennon totally phoned this album in, in terms of authorship. His only other song on the album was Across the Universe, which was added after the fact, as noted above.

Paul's songs are at least fully formed, but after Spector's treatment of them, it's hard to fault Paul for wanting to block the release. The addition of orchestra with harp and choirs pretty squarely undermines The Long and Winding Road, to an end result that sounds absolutely nothing like a Beatles song. Additionally, he lopped the ending off of Get Back and swapped guitar solos on Let It Be, both of which had previously been released as singles. He also bookended them with John Lennon telling jokes, announcing Let It Be as Hark The Angels Come. I understand that humor was an important part of their dynamic, but still...

No wonder Paul supervised a re-mastering of the album that was de-Spector'd in 2003 as Let It Be... Naked. But even that collection isn't completely satisfying, because ultimately the song craft just isn't there. Instead, we get a collection of good ideas that don't quite mesh. There's a good deal of amusing chatter, but it gives people (well, me at least) the impression that Monty Python have temporarily taken over. There are some good songs, but they lack the innovation or complexity of Revolver or even Abbey Road. And due to production mismanagement, the album doesn't even sound like a Beatles record.

In short, it falls victim to its own hype. It was to be the Beatles' grand finale, or a return to form, a film event, a television event, or simply a work of vast ambition, but it falls pretty flat on all of those counts. And the end result it something very listenable, very enjoyable, but hardly epic or grand. And I find that tragic, and perhaps a little bit beautiful.

]{p