The Beatles' Rubber Soul is 50: and it's still ahead of its time

Growing up in the 1970s, Sergeant Pepper cast a long shadow not only over the Beatles career, but the whole of pop. With only 20 or so years of rock’n’roll to look back on, it was seen as an insurmountable achievement; fast forward to the 1990s and Pepper’s crown was tarnished – by now Revolver was seen as the Beatles’ peak, with the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds most frequently cited in an increasing number of “best album ever” polls. The White Album – disjointed in 68, more cohesive in the digital era – now often takes the accolades. Maybe it’ll be Let It Be’s turn soon.

All of which is harsh on Rubber Soul. For a start, it had been the guiding light for Brian Wilson on Pet Sounds, the album that spurred him on to overtake his Transatlantic rivals. While Frank Sinatra had put together albums that had a unified mood back in the mid-50s, no one had done it in the modern pop era. Rubber Soul may have had no obvious lyrical chain, but with George Harrison’s astringent guitar, some heavily compressed piano, and a thread of black humour, it was the first album of the rock era that sounded like an album, as much a concept as Sinatra’s Only the Lonely before it and the likes of Tommy to come.

Interviewed in Melody Maker in late 1965, the Beatles revealed that “comedy songs” were their new direction. As there had always been a streak of humour running through their songs, this isn’t immediately apparent, but the biggest clue is on the opening Drive My Car, which even has a punchline. Michelle is frankly hilarious, a baguette-and-beret pastiche which McCartney had written years earlier without any actual French words, just French noises. I especially like the droll “I want you, I want you, I wa-a-ant you … I think you know by now.” Another song with a mock continental sound was the Weimar-esque Girl, a downer take on the Third Man theme, though lyrically it wasn’t very funny at all. 

By: Bob Stanley

Source: The Guardian

Read More >>