The Beatles “Love” (EMI 2006)

Why. Does. This. Exist.

Yes, I know that I left off a question mark. It was rhetorical. Folks, Love is a bad, bad idea as an album. I’m sure that it works just fine as the backing track of the overpriced Cirque du Soleil show of the same name. You know, with people contorting their bodies during “Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite” and the obligatory sequence where a guy flies around on wires during, I dunno, “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” or some bullshit, but as an album? It’s no fun whatsoever and it has no fucking reason to exist, period.

Beatles producer George Martin and his son Giles - who we can only assume worked very closely with the Beatles while, you know, being unborn - have put together an 80-minute soundscape of remixed and retooled Beatles songs because no other Beatle product had been released in 2006, I guess. Here’s my top five problems with this release:

1. Almost half of the songs are incomplete. This means that you won’t be going to individual tracks very often unless you really have a hankering to hear, say, a remixed version of “Back In The U.S.S.R.” that lasts under two minutes.

2. Some songs are smooshed together in a way that makes you realize just how interchangable The Beatles could be. If you don’t believe me, dig the mash-up of “Drive My Car/The Word/What You’re Doing”. It’s pretty amazing that a whole bunch of songs that sounded identical to each other somehow lit the world on fire back in the early sixties, before people had learned the word ‘redundant’, apparently.

3. A completely backwards version of “Sun King” called - wait for it - “Gnik Nus”. That isn’t remixing, that’s just filling space to satisfy a contractual obligation.

4. There’s a mashup of Geogre Harrison’s sitar clunker “Within You Without You” and the psychedleic masterpiece “Tomorrow Never Knows” that favors the former. Need I say more?

5. Out of thirty-six songs, there are exactly six pieces culled from prior to the much-praised Revolver album. Um, yeah. Because all those singles that turned the world on it’s ear and led to the revolutionary Ed Sullivan performance and Beatlemania as we know it? Yeah, all those songs were bullshit, apparently. The real magic was in “Octopus’s Garden”, according to this compilation. Let’s not forget that way back in the sixties, most considered The Beatles to be on a downward slide after Sgt. Pepper. Thanks to revisionist history, most people now think that Let It Be beats the pants off of all those huge hit singles that changed everyone’s life pre-1966.

The ire I have for this release is beyond measure. You’ll probably never listen to it more than once, and that’s only if you have eighty minutes to set aside to hear incomplete Beatles songs that don’t work at all in this setting. The worst part is that some poor sap will be looking for a Beatles compilation in a record store (remember those?) and they’ll look at the tracklisting thinking they’ve found the most bitchin’ Beatles compilation ever produced. They’ll bring it home, play it, get disappointed and weep over the eighteen dollars that they blew on a worthless piece of plastic that shouldn’t exist.

In case anyone involved with The Beatles is reading this, I’d just like you to know that thanks to this release I will never, ever, ever spend another dime on Beatles material as long as I live. If I do, I’ll buy it on eBay so that you don’t see one thin dime of my money. I don’t care what you release, it will never be tempting enough to make me look past or forget this travesty of rhinocerous feces.

And to think, I never thought anything could be worse than the 1979 film Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, starring Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees. Fuck. That thing is a million times better than this putrid heap of dogsnot. As a matter of fact, let’s watch the trailer for it, keeping in mind that it’s better than what George and Giles Martin have done to some of the most important music of our time. And… roll it!