It is hard to imagine that at this point anything more can be written about the Beatles—what is there, after all, to say? It’s very possible that more ink has been spilled about the Fab Four than about wars, the rise and fall of nations, and world religions. In fact, speaking of religions, over the years the aura around the Beatles has become its own form of a secular religion with its unique icons, relicts, shrines, pilgrimages to the holy places, corps of scholarly interpreters of the sacred texts, and the veneration of the saints.

Fortunately, since we never can seem to get enough of the Beatles, there are a number of quality authors to slake our constant thirst for yet more information. With this is mind, I could not resist tucking into yet two more recent books about those four cheeky lads from Liverpool who conquered the world.

My first reading was Englishman Craig Brown’s One Two Three Four—The Beatles in Time which proved to be a humorous change of pace in the Beatles genre and, surprisingly, a real page-turner. Normally by the end of 600 pages even the most interested reader has had enough, but I would have gladly welcomed 600 more—it really is that good.

What makes Brown’s book worthy is that he deftly weaves together quirky storytelling with reverence when it is demanded and irreverence when someone is taking themselves far too seriously—such as the tour guides at Paul’s and John’s childhood homes who, to be quite frank, come across as real pompous asses. Brown’s witty style helps him avoid what could be, in lesser hands, merely a monotonous litany of facts and figures. 

To mix things up a bit, he even explores alternate histories of where a Beatle(s) might have ended up if history had taken the other fork in the road. At other times he recounts events in reverse chronological order—a technique that builds a surprising amount of suspense since you already know the ending but are curious about the start. 

Brown is certainly not out to topple any reputations with mere gossip or chit-chat or to engage, just for the sake of it, in prurient details—these were four young male rock stars after all so you can use your imagination as to what went on… Nor does he play the game of uncovering yet another “startling revelation” for, in 2020, there is not much left to startle us. Instead he describes how these gifted musicians played, night after night, the clubs and small venues in order to perfect their skills. For, as Ringo later sang during his solo career, you know it don’t come easy.  

Ah, but even the most even-handed author can be mesmerized by the Beatles and here I give Brown extra points for not, as the story unfolds, falling into a slavish hagiography with the dourness and overwrought descriptions that are present when all is praise and not honest analysis. 

Yet it is impossible, no matter how good the author, to capture the true magic that was present at the creation of this band. That magic, of course, was a once in a lifetime indescribable something that others could only dream of having and with it, the Liverpool Lads swept their competitors aside.

Yet once they captured the public’s imagination, they revealed themselves to be genuine artists by learning new things and always challenging themselves—it’s worth asking just how many groups would have had, at that young age, the maturity to step away from big stadium touring to see just how far they could go in the studio . 

Of course, as is the case in any success story, hard work brings a luck of its own and this came in the form of Brian Epstein, an honest agent/manager and George Martin, a brilliant producer and solid musician himself. These two men were the necessary links to getting the Beatles recognized, recorded, and on their way to greatness.

While the term “genius” is grossly overused, if one true definition of it is the ability to incorporate influences from all types of music and then conjure up something completely new and earth-shattering then the Beatles were undoubtedly geniuses. We should remember that very early 60’s music was still sort of plodding along with the remnants of doo-wop groups, Elvis, and Frank Sinatra. All impressive in their own right but…

Outside the recording studio Epstein took the four scruffy Liverpudlians, clothed them in bespoke suits, made them Mop-tops, and then plopped them in front of screaming, often overwhelmingly female, audiences. Looking back, perfect hindsight reveals the musical DNA that was present in those earliest performances and how it marked out the brilliance of all that was soon to follow—as if it were all predestined and only being a matter of time.

Now some music historians argue that while the Beatles did have an outsize influence on pop/rock music, they didn’t revolutionize it all by themselves as they were just one part of, for example, the British Invasion. Nor, so the argument goes, did they necessarily single-handedly change culture as it was culture that was also was constantly changing them.  

Perhaps all that is true, but the Beatles were staking out some pretty forward territory. Nearly every album took them in a new direction with the composition, recording, and vocal arrangements. It is breathtaking to think that only four years separated A Hard Day’s Night from what is known as the White Album with its arrangements such as Helter Skelter and Revolution Number 9. 

This speed and breadth of change of course always begs the question about the group’s use of drugs. I find these questions to be fair as a variety of substances did indeed propel a lot of changes in the band’s music.  Full disclosure:  As a military and airline pilot for 35 years I was required to be a paid-up member of the clean-living club, but I do consider much of the war on drugs to have often been a stupendously stupid waste of lives, resources, and time. Addiction is life-crushing and we as a society have to be careful with what we allow, but I am open to legalization where it safely fits—something the Beatles advocated fifty years ago.

Why, dear reader, do I trouble you with this personal disclosure? Well, because the second book I thoroughly enjoyed was Joe Goodden’s 2017 work Riding So High—the Beatles and Drugs. Gooden, who is no mere hack, freely acknowledges from the outset that this topic is fraught with controversy but nevertheless is worthy of investigation. How else could the four lads have been singing, in 1964, about how they want to hold your hand and then two years later in the song Tomorrow Never Knows (Tomorrow)  compose lines such as “Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream?”