The Thing About Sgt. Pepper...

"It has been called the most famous album in the history of popular music. It is certainly among the most written about. It is still being written about" - June Skinner Sawyer - Read The Beatles (2006)

It's an album that is synonymous with 60's British psychedelia. A cultural touchstone which opened the door to the musical alter-ego, without which David Bowie may never have felt able to embody the androgynous cult icon Ziggy Stardust. An album which Roger Waters when speaking on The Dark Side Of The Moon admits allowed bands of his generation to "branch out and do whatever we wanted". It's an album you feel is perennially at the summit of 'Top Albums Of All Time' lists; constantly cited and endlessly lauded.

Now that I've got you up to speed with the most famous album of all time, the rather crass question I pose today is: Does the album hold up, and is the whole greater than the sum of its parts? Here's a Beatles superfan's take on all this...

Would you believe in a love at first sight?

Yes, I'm certain that it happens all the time.

Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band will always hold a special place in my heart, although - as is a common theme in the story of my strange musical journey - these are not songs I grew up with. When I bought my first Beatles album I was a recently single, depressed 21 year old working late shifts in a Wetherspoon's kitchen. I was looking for an escape, for something radical. So it was that in August of 2016 I downloaded Sgt. Pepper off iTunes (a reference which somehow makes this story feel like a lifetime ago) for £3 something as part of a sale. As a young man who came late to The Beatles, it was the launchpad to a lifelong love affair with the four lads from Liverpool, and everything that came along with them. That bustle; the sound of the orchestra setting up as the record starts; I remember feeling vibrant colour in the music, and warmth! What was this feeling?

As it was for the scene 50 years previously, it was the start of a sea change in my musical taste. I was hooked, I had to hear more. From there I grooved to Rubber Soul, I delved into Help! and Abbey Road and Let It Be and... well, you get it.

Fast forward to the present day and if you asked me to rank my favourite Beatles albums, Sgt. Pepper would certainly feel it was owed more. I'll admit that until I started the process of writing this article, it had been a long time since I'd even given it a full listen. I tend to inwardly sneer when this album is brought up by people as their favourite. But why have my feelings on this album shifted so drastically? Is it a case of familiarity breeding contempt? I'm still feeling this out myself, truth be told.

I think the problem starts for me when you start to dissect the album on a song-by-song level. The opening couplet of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band into With A Little Help From My Friends is perfection. The first song proper on this album being sung by Ringo as the band-leader Billy Shears is a prime example of the sheer swagger this album, and indeed concept, afforded to the band. However, here is where the problems start for me. The 'concept' of this early concept album arguably falls away here as track 3 opens with the hypnotic arpeggios of Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, a song which men of a certain age need no excuse to reliably inform you was a clever nod to LSD (it wasn't) as if they're the first person to pick up on this (they weren't). This song is iconic, no doubt about it, but it's rather boring, isn't it? Time probably hasn't been as kind to this song as others on the album, but we'll get to that later. From there, things continue in promising fashion. Getting Better and Fixing A Hole feel welcoming, with the familiar middle-Beatles charm of previous albums such as Rubber Soul. She's Leaving Home is a curveball classic. I have a close friend who claims this to be the best Beatles song. It's admittedly lovely, but I could take it or leave it these days, especially in isolation.

Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite is a song I struggle with. I imagine hearing this song when it was released in 1967 and it's hard to not appreciate how spectacularly stunning this would have sounded. The kaleidoscopic sounds of a mad and slightly frightening circus are clearly vital to the album's pioneering psychedelia, but with modern ears I'm not sure the song stands on its own two feet. Maybe the issue is that it feels slightly like John trying to write as Paul. 'The celebrated Mr. K.' and the colourful roster of characters name-dropped in the lyrics make this feel like a song penned by Macca, given his penchant for reading from the phonebook throughout his oeuvre of songs. But given that this is a John solo effort, perhaps it's missing one of two things that made Lennon/McCartney-penned ventures so prolific: the esoteric lyrical stylings of a John song, or the balance that was so often provided by McCartney.

From here, the album probably strays into the 'take it or leave it' territory with most listeners. Admittedly, I have a soft spot for Within You, Without You, George Harrison's delightful foray into Indian music and spirituality. For those not looking for a lecture while enjoying their 40 minutes of escapism, I can see how this may be a bit of a momentum-stopper. When I'm Sixty-Four is Paul at his unapologetic silliest, complete with the family headcount in a Scottish accent. I can't help but be charmed by the cosiness of it all (you got me, I'm a Paul guy). Lovely Rita is an overlooked gem. It's driving and melodic in an utterly vibey way that perfectly encapsulates high-end 60s British psychedelia. Good Morning, Good Morning, though fondly thought of by many, is the low point of this album for me. It feels like a song that was added at the 11th hour. It never truly knows where it's going, and there's something about the 60s soundbites of farmyard animals that is just so jarring. Lennon himself has been scathing of the track, stating "It's a throwaway, a piece of garbage...".

And so we reach the closing couplet, and oh look! The concept is back from the shops. Sgt. Pepper's... - Reprise is exactly the kind of theatre I'm here for, the band returning to the stage to inform you that the end of the show is nigh is absolutely delightful and segues beautifully into the evergreen classic A Day In The Life, a song about which all hyperbole is richly deserved and endlessly recited. So I needn't dwell on it.

Wondering where it will go

And it really doesn't matter...

I want to discuss The Concept. It feels ridiculous, and frankly arrogant, to say that there's a 'missed opportunity' here. As I delve back into this album for the first time in a while, I'm feeling more humbled with every line I write. A concept album by no means has to tell a story, nor does it have to adhere to the linear. A concept album doesn't owe you anything. The concept behind this album is, prophetically, the invention of the concept album. The Beatles, recently retired from touring and unabashedly jaded with their own fame, were looking for a way to recapture the adventure of playing music together in a room, just the four of them. This mixed with the recent venture into the worlds of psychedelic substances and London-based avant-garde high art was arguably the right place, right time remedy for what became the perfect storm. You really can sense the joy the band experienced getting to step out of The Beatles skin and be something else entirely. The fact that they spent five and a half months in the studio - an unheard of amount of time until then - speaks volumes to this fact. Of course The Beatles didn't know it when they were stepping foot into Abbey Road's Studio Two, but they were opening the floodgates for the 50+ years of music that would follow.

All this being said, I just don't see the songs on this album being far removed from what The Beatles had previously put their hands and voices to. Though the bookending of the two best and most well-remembered songs on the album, introduced by the fictional, eponymous Lonely Hearts Club Band, is pure perfection, what comes in between these points may be seen as somewhat meandering. She's Leaving Home is a composition built entirely on a string quartet with melancholic lyrics, à la Eleanor Rigby. Within You, Without You feels like the natural progression of Love You To, while ... Mr. Kite! doesn't feel anywhere as progressive and pioneering as the dominating Tomorrow Never Knows. Perhaps this is why the reputation of the Revolver album has only gone from strength to strength in recent years. For those unaware, all the songs I've compared to their Sgt. Pepper counterparts above are from Revolver. The Beatles weren't new to this trail-blazing business, maybe it just took them retiring from touring in late 1966 and dressing in marching band uniforms on their album cover for people to sit up and take notice.

Getting better all the time?

If we went back 20 years, this album would feel inescapable. It's been topping the All Time Best Albums lists of magazines and review shows for as long as these formats have existed. It's been named number 1 many times such as 1978, 1988, 1994, and well into the next century, including as recently as 2012 and 2013, in such publications as Rolling Stone, Q and Mojo to name a few. But in the last 10-15 years something strange began to happen. Revolver and Abbey Road began to surpass Sgt. Pepper in popularity, if not in reputation. So why the sudden re-appraisal? Well, the truth is, it's not been so sudden. It was during the 1970s and '80s when critics began to reassess the albums in terms of long-term influence and musical sophistication. Sgt. Pepper remains a defining work for the '60s counterculture, but it does seem that the more cohesive sensibilities of Abbey Road and the cutting-edge nature of Revolver have made them favourites for a modern audience.

2017 brought the 50th anniversary re-release of Sgt. Pepper, and this remixed version has had great success in bringing new appreciation to the songs that awakened a generation, as well as attracting new, younger ears to the album, and no doubt the band as a whole. The 50th anniversary remix of Lucy In The Sky... is an eye-opener for me. There's a new vibrancy to the waves of this song, and I really felt for the first time the depth of the world it invites you to step into. While the idea of a 'remix' of a classic work can be a touchy subject for some, I for one am all for it. We have to consider the age of these works, and see these anniversary editions as not a reinterpreting, but an opportunity to deepen the immersion and improve on the clarity of the material at hand. In this case - and as has been the case with subsequent Beatles re-releases - the work feels in safe hands given that Giles Martin, son of the incomparable long-time Beatles producer George Martin, is given full rein in overseeing it. The positives undoubtedly outweigh the hesitation in my opinion. And if you are a purist out there reading this, who feels their hackles being raised at the sheer mention of any form of remixing of your favourite album... Well hey, nobody's taking the original versions away from you.

In short summary, I'm not sure if I really discovered anything in writing this; certainly no new ground has been touched on here. One thing I'm glad for is getting the opportunity to revisit this album with fresh ears, and really dwell on it for the first time in a long time. Whether it's your favourite album or you've somehow never listened to it - and including all possible permutations in-between - the fact remains that 57 years later, this album isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

So may I introduce to you the act you've known for all these years...