Why has there been surprise as to how many Beatles tunes reside within the confines of my simple little country iPod? Between their major discs, the huge Anthology series, the re-releases of the American versions of their earlier albums, and a few compilations (the Past Masters volumes, the Cirque du Soleil "Love" mash-up, which is superb by the way), the number is perfectly legit. And, dare I say, there's plenty more to add.
This tune is probably my least favorite track on my favorite album of all time. It seems to showcase Lennon at the height of experimentation, and he seems to have left his pop hooks at home with Yoko. BUT...apparently, this song plays an extremely important role in the history of ALL music, let alone pop music.
My sophomore year in college, I took some type of Music Appreciation class that seemed a harmless way to fill the ledger. It was pretty sober stuff, focusing mostly on the history of classical music. I got my Gustav Mahler groove on pretty good, weaved my way through Mendelssohn and Beethoven, jammed with Mozart pretty much three times a week. The "text" was both a standard classroom textbook plus a set of about 6 albums that contained most of the music we studied.
So after studying the varying degrees of classical music through the ages, it seems that the grand poo-bahs of music studies decided to give pop music a moment in the sun (pretty much on the very last day possible). And the tune they chose to represent popular music at its finest: "I Want You (She's So Heavy)".
Now don't get my wrong, I respect the blues-like chord progressions, the unusual shifts in tempo, the suprising cut-off at the end. But when the world decides to study why rock-and-roll became so important to an entire generation and beyond, is this song going to be able to represent? To me, it's not even close to the right song. To me, if I'm picking the archetypal pop song, it's got to have energy, an unreal hook, a sing-out-loud-and-completely-infectious chorus, and a length under four minutes that leaves you wanting more (it should almost feel like its just started when it finishes). Really, Mozart was delivering the pop hooks of his day. Shouldn't the ultimate song of our lives fill the same role, even in academia? And since I'd obviously like the Beatles to lead the canon, I nominate "Help!" to be our representative track to be included in future academic pursuits (I'd think hard about "Hey Jude", but its too long). Your suggestions to the contrary are welcome.
It's interesting how something edgy becomes mainstream in pop culture. I can imagine that back in 1978, when Joe Teenager popped this into his 8-track for the first time and heard the opening synth and guitar lick, it sounded like some bizarre twist of new wave, pop and rock and roll (with a Joey Ramone-meets-Lurch vocalist who looked like he hadn't seen the sun in at least 17 years). Now, having been infected by classic rock radio, The Cars (and this otherwise excellent song) sound like the musical equivalent of a turkey sandwich. Nothing wrong with that, but I've eaten altogether too many of them. But again, that's not really fair. In 1978, this set the radio on fire. And the cover of the album had to make Joe Teenager feel a little dirty, which always works in rock and roll. Who is she, and what does she look like now?
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