Two anniversaries occur this year. It is the 40th anniversary of the release of the Beatles'
Abbey Road and the anniversary of Woodstock. In 1969, I was thirteen and had just begun to play guitar. The Beatles were everywhere and Woodstock was the epitome of hippie-dom. Both seemed intertwined somehow, even though the Beatles had nothing to do with Woodstock. At the time, though, all things counterculture were bound together and represented the best hope for society. And for impressionable teens like myself and my friends, the old authoritarian ways were rapidly becoming "square." The ideology of the counterculture was upending the patriarchal structure of the family and society, and for us it couldn't happen fast enough.
In 1969, the Beatles were still a formidable force in popular music.
Abbey Road, while being their last studio album, was not their last album released as
Let It Be would follow the next year. It was, however, the swan song of the Fab Four. Knowing the band would not last another year,
Abbey Road was the culmination of their career and they delivered an album of songs that were evidence of their musical maturation, sophistication, and hit-making ability. George Martin's impeccable production along with the high-calibre songwriting of Lennon, McCartney, and Harrison symbiotically merged to create a cohesive work that rivalled anything released that year. The Side Two Medley/Suite itself stands as a testament to the songwriting and arranging abilities of Lennon/McCartney/Martin and effectively capped the Beatles' career. "You Never Give Me Your Money," the first song in the medley/suite reveals the friction at the time between Paul and the rest of the group. "Carry That Weight" leaves no doubt as to the cultural baggage that each member would carry for the rest of their lives, and in the case of Lennon and Harrison, beyond.
The album also helped fuel the curious rumour that Paul McCartney had died and was replaced by a fellow named William Campbell, a very convincing sound/look-a-like
. Evidence from the cover photo supposedly showed George dressed as a gravedigger, Ringo as a pallbearer, John dressed in white as the priest, and Paul out of step with the others and shoeless as the corpse.
This so-called evidence was added to other evidence from the White Album and Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band to prove that Paul had died in an automobile accident. The rumour was so strong that even Paul's statement that he was very much alive was seen as a ploy to make us think he still was. Obviously William Campbell was trying to convince us all that he was Paul by saying Paul was alive.
As with almost all Beatles' albums, virtually every song on
Abbey Road has become a classic. "Come Together," "Something" (In the 70s Frank Sinatra claimed "Something" was the best love song written in the last fifty years), and "Here Comes the Sun" have been covered countless times, the melodies firmly embedded in our memories recalling a halcyon time that can never be recaptured. The album cover has been reproduced by the likes of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and the Simpsons, and this year thousands of fans descended on Abbey Road (the street) to photograph themselves in the famous poses on the cover. And so, after 40 years,
Abbey Road remains as one of the best albums ever released and arguably the Beatles' finest album.
The Beatles never played Woodstock, although many wished they would have. On the other hand, The Who, Santana, Janis Joplin, CCR, Canned Heat, Mountain, CS&N, Grateful Dead, Richie Havens, Sly and the Family Stone, and Jimi Hendrix, to name a few, would help move the festival into the ephemeral world of "legendary." Woodstock was never intended to be as large as it was. The promoters of the concert initially prepared for some 100,000 people. Billed as "three days of peace, love, and music," the festival would create superstars and generate urban myths for years to come. Woodstock was not the first music festival either. 1965's Newport Folk Festival (the famous Dylan goes electric one), 1967's Monterey Pop Festival (the one where Hendrix lit his guitar on fire), and 1961's Mariposa Folk Festival in Orillia, Ontario (the first Canadian folk festival) all pre-date Woodstock and all have their place in popular music history. Woodstock is unique because of the sheer number of people that descended on Max Yasgur's farm that summer, the subsequent release of a movie with its never-before-seen "two shot" concert footage, and the three-album soundtrack that pushed the festival into the forefront of the mainstream.
Behind the scenes, though, there was no altruistic underscoring to the festival. It was purely a money-making venture that went awry. It was not intended to be a free concert, that was a result of the legions of fans tearing down the fences and co-opting space. There were three ticket booths and not one ticket was taken. Security was provided by the Hog Farm, a commune headed by Wavy Gravy who famously exclaimed, "My God, we're the cops!" The crowd was cold, hungry, thirsty, and oblivious to all but the present, the here and now. They were communing with each other, with nature, and with music and it felt good. Babies were born and conceived, three people were killed, and a cultural icon rose from the ashes.
Forty years later we have remastered editions of
Abbey Road and high-quality DVD versions of the Woodstock film. This December, The Beatles will be represented in the music video game RockBand with their own expansion pack of specially selected songs and plastic instrument/controllers that look like the Rickenbacker and Hofner guitars played by John, Paul, and George. A special remastered box set of the Woodstock soundtrack album and director's cut DVD with additional, never-before-seen footage is slated for release as well. In ten years we will have the fiftieth anniversary, and again, more repackaging for profit.
Sadly, the nostalgia value of these events will outlast their cultural importance as that gets whittled away with every re-release, every remastering, and every repackaging. In time Woodstock will be "that big concert that our grandparents went to...they said it was cool" and
Abbey Road will be deconstructed even more than it is now for the "favourite" songs. The cadavers of the unselected ones will languish forgotten, only to reemerge on satellite, cable, or Internet radio now and then.
I still listen to
Abbey Road in its entirety, and it still transports me to a warm and fuzzy time. And despite the recontextualization of Boomer culture, I really wouldn't have it any other way. Happy Anniversary
Abbey Road and Woodstock. Gimme an F ... Gimme a U ....
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