If you ever doubt that The Beatles were the greatest band that ever existed, try ranking their songs. Out of 185 self-penned tunes they released commercially during their initial seven-year run â so not including covers, fan club releases, alternative versions or their 1995 reunion songs â youâll list well over a hundred tracks before you get to anything you wouldnât call sublime, and hit 150 or so before anything verging on average appears. Of their entire catalogue, only six or seven songs could be classed as âshonkyâ, and most of those have still got something historic going for them.
Among them youâll find songs which caused seismic shifts in pop, psychedelia and rock and the formative roots of punk, metal and electronica, amongst a panoply of other styles they pioneered and popularised in such a short time. Itâs a feat unmatched by any act before or since, and with Peter Jacksonâs Get Back reviving interest in their achievements, letâs pile back in to the most magical mystery tour pop music has ever known, ranked in order of greatness.
âWild Honey Pieâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
An experimental âWhite Albumâ interlude recorded entirely by Paul, âWild Honey Pieâ had a mild element of redneck Grieg menace, but little else to it.
âDig Itâ (âLet It Beâ, 1970)
50 seconds of a far longer studio jam, during which Lennon makes random references to the FBI, the CIA, the BBC, BB King, Doris Day and Matt Busby over a pretty dreary rockânâroll dirge, âDig Itâ only really existed to exemplify the fact that The Beatles cut loose a lot during the âLet It Beâ sessions. Now weâve got seven-plus hours of Get Back, itâs rendered superfluous.
âYou Know My Name (Look Up The Number)â (B-side of âLet It Beâ, 1970)
âGood evening and welcome to SlaggersâŠâ The Beatles spend an inordinate amount of studio time trying to perfect this frankly silly combo of blues rock, lounge samba, music hall clowning and a bit sung by Crazy Frogâs jazz Granddad. Donât do drugs, kids.
âWhy Donât We Do It In The Road?â (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Even before Google Street View, Paulâs uber-horny blues squeal about dogging like a champion was at best inadvisable and at worst just plain creepy. Everyone will definitely be watching you, so stop. Think. Donât do it in the road.
âRevolution 9â (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Of interest as an avant-garde curio exemplifying the fact that The Beatles had entirely dismissed all sonic boundaries by the âWhite Albumâ, John and Yokoâs epic sound collage of radio interference, studio chatter and orchestral samples is more notable and influential than itâs often given credit for. But you wouldnât bung it on repeat.
âFlyingâ (âMagical Mystery Tourâ, 1967)
An incidental instrumental to accompany a psychedelic segment of Magical Mystery Tour, âFlyingâ was little more than 12-bar rockânâroll played, very stoned, on an organ for two minutes. Some distance from a Welsh male voice choir.
âOnly A Northern Songâ (âYellow Submarineâ, 1969)
Designed as a piss-taking dig at Northern Songs, the Beatlesâ publishing company, which George felt rewarded him pitifully for his songwriting efforts, âOnly A Northern Songâ is intended to sound weird, wonky and half-baked, even as Harrison came into his own as a songsmith.
âAsk Me Whyâ (âPlease Please Meâ, 1963)
A formulaic shake shack ballad of little note other than the sneaking suspicion that Morrissey took his entire vocal style from Lennonâs end-of-chorus flicks.
âLittle Childâ (âWith The Beatlesâ, 1963)
By-numbers Merseybeat that was one of the few unmemorable originals Lennon and McCartney ever penned.
âBlue Jay Wayâ (âMagical Mystery Tourâ, 1967)
Written by George while waiting for houseguests to arrive at the place he was staying on the titular Hollywood Hills street in 1967. They presumably arrived just after heâd perfected the ominous psychedelic organ mood but before heâd really gotten his teeth into the chorus.
 âNot A Second Timeâ (âWith The Beatlesâ, 1963)
A song desperately in search of a hookline, âNot A Second Timeâ finds Johnâs voice flapping wildly around the verses as if desperate to find somewhere solid to land.
âHer Majestyâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
A lightweight folk frippery that sounds particularly throwaway when tacked on the end of âAbbey Roadââs monumental side two medley as a secret final track.
âRun For Your Lifeâ (âRubber Soulâ, 1965)
As The Beatles shifted away from love songs, John contributed this out-and-out hate song to âRubber Soulâ â a nifty country rocker and arguably the proto-âLast Train To Clarkesvilleâ, but notorious as The Beatlesâ most problematic track. John would claim to regret having written it, calling it his least favourite Beatles song.
âDonât Bother Meâ (âWith The Beatlesâ, 1963)
“I don’t think it’s a particularly good song,â George said of his debut Beatles writing credit, âit mightn’t even be a song at all.â Actually, itâs a pretty nifty homage to the surf rock craze of the time. And definitely a song.
âFor You Blueâ (âLet It Beâ, 1970)
Standard, formulaic slide guitar blues given a sweetness and light by Georgeâs weightless vocals and exclamation, âElmore James got nothing on this!â
âWhat Goes Onâ (âRubber Soulâ, 1965)
Honky-tonk pastiche written by John in 1959 and passed over for several albums before landing half-heartedly on âRubber Soulâ. You can actually hear the band lose interest midway through.
âThank You Girlâ (B-side to âFrom Me To Youâ, 1964)
Recorded by John with a heavy cold, itâs perhaps understandable that this thank you letter to their fans â a âhack songâ, according to McCartney â sounds muddy and under-developed. On this evidence youâd assume EMI Studios doubled as a bomb shelter.

âOne After 909â (âLet It Beâ, 1970)
Plucked from the catalogue of early Lennon/McCartney compositions when the band were short on material for âLet It Beâ, Paulâs locomotive skiffle knockabout had a retro charm but never really escaped the formula.
âI Me Mineâ (âLet It Beâ, 1970)
A lovely choral waltz ballad from George, totally ruined by nobody bothering to write a proper chorus and just bawling the title over some 12-bar sleaze rock riffing instead.
âIâll Cry Insteadâ (âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ, 1964)
Bitterness, heartbreak and romantic revenge; Lennonâs dark side was on show even on the skiffly, tucked-away tracks of the Beatlemania era.
âYer Bluesâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Passionate, characterful and a raw exorcism of Johnâs harrowed late-â60s mindset, certainly. But The Beatles were way past by-numbers blues rock by â68 and âYer Bluesâ stood out as an unimaginative throwback on the âWhite Albumâ.
âWhen I Get Homeâ (âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ, 1964)
Formulaic Beatlemania fare in which John gets excited at the prospect of telling his wife about all the screaming girls, drugs and parties on tour. Bet she was thrilled.
âBeing For The Benefit Of Mr Kite!â (âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ, 1967)
For some, Johnâs cabaret pastiche is the very essence of âSgt. PepperâŠâ, capturing the sepia carnival vibe in its circus poster lyrics and carousel interlude. To these ears, though, itâs club-footed, corny and unnecessary.
âIâll Get Youâ (B-side to âShe Loves Youâ, 1963)
Johnâs songwriting sparkles on the B-side of their first single, yet lacks the confidence of more head-waggling numbers of the era.
âThis Boyâ (B-side to âAll My Lovingâ)
Faithful homage to the harmony groups of the â50s and early â60s, and a rare example of a Beatles song that could be mistaken for that of any other band.

âIâm Downâ (B-side to âHelp!â)
Nifty Little Richard-style rockânâroller that doesnât sound all that âdownâ at all.
âLove Me Doâ (single, 1962)
Legendary and all that, being the debut single, but letâs face it: a bit of a plodder.
âHold Me Tightâ (âWith The Beatlesâ, 1963)
Even when rehashing some pretty standard rockânâroll chord progressions and melodic structures on a song that McCartney himself would call âfillerâ, The Beatles exuded a fundamental magic that set them apart from the Merseybeat horde.
âThereâs a Placeâ (âPlease Please Meâ, 1963)
Early signs of spiritual and philosophical musings from John as he tries his hand at Motown.
âSheâs A Womanâ (B-side to âI Feel Fineâ)
Basic, bluesy rockânâroller notable for some pretty savage guitar work and McCartney clearly working his way up to the sort of full-throated blues bawls heâd let loose once the â60s were ready for them.
âMiseryâ (âPlease Please Meâ, 1963)
The exuberance of being in a studio recording âPlease Please Meâ made this shameless homage to the â50s crooners sound like the cheeriest song about existential despair ever recorded. No bad thing.
âI Call Your Nameâ (âLong Tall Sally EPâ, 1964)
A pre-Beatles Lennon tune originally given to British popper Billy J. Kramer. The Beatlesâ version swung harder.

âWhat Youâre Doingâ (âBeatles For Saleâ, 1964)
Georgeâs proto-indie-pop guitar line lifted one of Paulâs less eventful tunes, but not an un-influential one â somewhere in here is the root of The Laâsâ âThere She Goesâ.
âOctopusâs Gardenâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
Seemingly envisioning a future in childrenâs entertainment as The Beatles fell apart, Ringoâs second-ever writing credit involved oompah larks and underwater adventure (sound familiar?), adorned with George making bubble noises by blowing into a glass of milk through a straw.
âPolythene Pamâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
âPinball Wizardâ power chords, nifty solo, broad Scouse accent, low-rent S&M; there was so much going on in Johnâs throwaway 70-second rocker about a bizarre sexual encounter in Jersey in 1960 (involving beat poet Royston Ellis) that you wish heâd written a chorus for it.
âYou Like Me Too Muchâ (âHelp!â, 1965)
Itâs baffling that The Beatles only really began recognising and appreciating Georgeâs songwriting come âThe White Albumâ, since he was displaying solid melodic chops way back on âHelp!â.
âMaxwellâs Silver Hammerâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
Youâve written some of the finest childrenâs songs of the century, why the hell shouldnât you try to make a vaudevillian family singalong from the story of an insane, hammer wielding psychopath? Basically Wes Cravenâs âWhen Iâm Sixty-Fourâ.
âTell Me What You Seeâ (âHelp!â, 1965)
Sometimes The Beatlesâ harmonising could carry an entire song alone, as on this shift towards a more contemplative folk maturity. Includes an entire verse nicked from a religious passage that hung in Johnâs childhood home.
âThe Ballad Of John And Yokoâ (single, 1969)
The sorry tale of John and Yokoâs troubled and press-hounded attempts to wed at short notice in various European locales, delivered as impassioned country lament.
âSun Kingâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
The Beatlesâ impression of The Beach Boys doing Fleetwood Macâs âAlbatrossâ (in cod-Spanish) fell between two stools on âAbbey Roadâ; not as plush as âBecauseâ nor as melodically bright as âHere Comes The Sunâ. Lovely, then, but slight.

âI Need Youâ (âHelp!â, 1965)
Gorgeous flamenco strumble from George, finding his songwriting feet on âHelp!â.
âOb-La-Di, Ob-La-Daâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Macca Marmite: one either adores the cheery Jamaican lilt of Desmond and Mollyâs story and considers it pivotal in attuning British pop culture to ska music or, like Lennon, deems it âmore of Paulâs granny music shitâ.
âIâm Happy Just To Dance With Youâ (âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ, 1964)
A Lennon/McCartney composition given to George to sing. You likely owe your very existence to this dance hall romance, since it probably gave your Granddad the nerve to chat up your Nanna down the Mecca.
âIâll Be Backâ (âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ, 1964)
Flamenco-flecked and downbeat, the closer of âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ â rewritten from Del Shannonâs âRunawayâ â was an early sign of The Beatlesâ sophisticated tonal ambitions within what were, at the time, strictly regimented â60s pop structures.
âThe Continuing Story Of Bungalow Billâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
The crackle of boy scout campfire virtually enshrouds this charming tale of bravery and derring-do out on the hunt in the days of empire. Twitter would rip it a new arsehole, mind.
âLovely Ritaâ (âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ, 1967)
Of all of Paulâs outlandish character songs, âLovely Ritaâ, in which our narrator develops affection for a traffic warden, is by far the least believable, but remains charming thanks to some gorgeous band harmonies and nifty work on the paper and comb.
âI Wanna Be Your Manâ (âWith The Beatlesâ, 1963)
An energised if one-trick jitterbugger written by Paul on a night out with The Rolling Stones in Richmond. It became The Stonesâ second single before The Beatles gave it to Ringo to holler on âWith The Beatlesâ.
âThe Wordâ (âRubber Soulâ, 1965)
The link between âDrive My Carâ and âTaxmanâ, âThe Wordâ added a touch of harmonic funk to âRubber Soulâ as Lennon took a stab at a one-note song in homage to âLong Tall Sallyâ.

âOld Brown Shoeâ (B-side of âThe Ballad Of John And Yokoâ, 1969)
George in righteous, piano-thumping boogie-woogie mode. Upstaged its own A-side.
âPiggiesâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Tainted in retrospect by Charles Mansonâs murderous interpretations, Georgeâs harpsichord satire of the selfish and gluttonous rich, smothered in porcine snorts and grunts, is a stirring but unsettling listen.
âFixing A Holeâ (âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ, 1967)
An ode to pot, âFixing A Holeâ makes great use of harpsichord (played by both Paul and George Martin) to give a psychedelic lilt to a music hall pastiche on which Paul makes the utmost of a one-note chorus.
âIf I Needed Someoneâ (âRubber Soulâ, 1965)
This fine Merseybeat evolution offers early indications of Georgeâs Indian influence and of the psychedelic storm the band would later kick up on âTomorrow Never Knowsâ.
âIâve Got A Feelingâ (âLet It Beâ, 1970)
Suitably blustery for a song recorded on a rooftop in January, Paulâs dive into The Band-style bluesy Americana rock is long on feel and passion, short on melodic impact.
âThink For Yourselfâ (âRubber Soulâ, 1965)
Incorporating Motown beats and an open-mindedness gleaned from encounters with Dylan, Georgeâs first major foray out of romantic odes was targeting at societyâs regressive and narrow-minded elements, quite possibly in government.
âYou Canât Do Thatâ (âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ, 1964)
A tuneful precursor to âRun For Your Lifeâ, which also finds Johnâs jealousy getting the better of him.
âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise)â (âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ, 1967)
Rocking up the title track, the reprise rips off the neon military blazers to expose the Hamburg leathers beneath.

âEvery Little Thingâ (âBeatles For Saleâ, 1964)
A marriage of the melancholy and upbeat, this was a rare example of John singing a Paul song.
âWaitâ (âRubber Soulâ, 1965)
The Beatles as pop toreadors. A certain Mediterranean fire creeps into Maccaâs plea to Jane Asher to give him at least until the end of tour.
âI Donât Want To Spoil The Partyâ (âBeatles For Saleâ, 1964)
John plays the party-pooping wallflower on this beautifully forlorn skiffle lament and a thematic precursor to âHow Soon Is Now?â.
âTell Me Whyâ (âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ, 1964)
An all-barrels harmonic doo-wop assault which Paul, in retrospect, thought might have been a window onto Johnâs troubled marriage to Cynthia.
âDoctor Robertâ (âRevolverâ, 1966)
Perhaps spurred on by The Rolling Stonesâ âMotherâs Little Helperâ and Donovanâs âCandy Manâ, Lennon penned his own tribute to a drug-supplying medic, rumoured to be Dr Robert Freymann, known for supplying B-12 injections liberally laced with amphetamine. They kick in on the blissed-out middle-eight, clearly.
âItâs Only Loveâ (âHelp!â, 1965)
One of Lennonâs prettiest early-period tunes (he hated it, natch), built around sumptuous 12-string rhythms and a twee but fan-friendly lyric. Working title: âThatâs A Nice Hatâ.
âThe Inner Lightâ (B-side of âLady Madonnaâ, 1968)
Based on a Taoist poem and recorded with Indian musicians in Bombay, The âLady Madonnaâ flipside was one of only four Beatles songs with no Beatles playing on it (quiz compilers: the others are âGood Nightâ, âSheâs Leaving Homeâ and âEleanor Rigbyâ), but magnificently emulated the serenity of the Transcendental Meditation techniques the band were learning from the Maharishi.
âRocky Raccoonâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Cartoonish Wild West soap opera larks and one of Paulâs better novelty tunes, thanks to a popcorn guzzling plot and George Martinâs honky tonk piano solo tumbling past like a saloon fight.

âGood Nightâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
As reward for getting all the way through âRevolution 9â, Ringo turned up with a full Busby Berkeley orchestra to tuck you in with this sleepyhead lullaby. Night night, Ringo.
âWhen Iâm Sixty Fourâ (âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ, 1967)
Central, stylistically, to the pre-war cabaret conceit of âSgt. Pepper’sâŠâ, Paulâs cheery/corny bandstand ode to somehow reaching your 60s without murdering your spouse was among the first he ever wrote, aged 16. Now go on, give Nanna a kiss.
âOh! Darlingâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
Updating 1950s US swing for the psychedelic era, McCartney put his all into âOh! Darlingâ, even coming into the studio early to have one crack at it every day before his voice lost its edge. The songâs part in getting glam underway has gone woefully unrecognised.
âYellow Submarineâ (âRevolverâ, 1966)
Ringoâs most legendary moment, the quintessential psychedelia ditty and arguably the most overplayed Beatles song of all. You came for the chant-along chorus aged four and stayed until adulthood for the âshroom-friendliness and Lennon shouting, âFull speed ahead, Mr Boatswain / Full speed ahead, bop-dibbetty-bip-bop!â Features The Stonesâ Brian Jones on ocarina. No shit.
âDonât Let Me Downâ (âLet It Beâ, 1970)
Louche and languid (read: almost certainly on heroin by now), Lennonâs plea to Yoko flits between the vulnerable, optimistic, lovestruck and desperate. Find yourself someone who âdoesâ you like Yoko âdoneâ John.
âGirlâ (âRubber Soulâ, 1965)
Melding Greek and German music into a mournful mood piece, Lennon pointed the way to The Beatlesâ more sophisticated latter period with âGirlâ, probably the best song ever to have a chorus thatâs mostly just inhaling.
âDig A Ponyâ (âLet It Beâ, 1970)
One of the more inventive and engaging blues numbers the band worked up for âLet It Beâ, not least because of Lennonâs acid-fried lyrics. Just exactly how one does âa roadhogâ or âsyndicate[s] any boat you rowâ remains unspecified.
âThings We Said Todayâ (âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ, 1964)
Idyllic strumbler penned by Paul on a yacht called Happy Days in the Virgin Islands with glamorous new girlfriend Jane Asher. And sounds like it.

âDo You Want To Know A Secretâ (âPlease Please Meâ, 1963)
Inspired by a song from Snow White And The Seven Dwarves, which Johnâs mother used to sing to him as a child, the strength of âDo You Want To Know A Secretâ was in its childlike simplicity and coy teen naivety.
âBabyâs In Blackâ (âBeatles For Saleâ, 1964)
Hoedown homage so gorgeous itâll give you an ounce of sympathy for a man trying to pull a hot widow while her husband isnât yet cold in the ground.
âThe Fool On The Hillâ (âMagical Mystery Tourâ, 1967)
Flutes! Recorder solos! Meditation! The budget for the Magical Mystery Tour TV special was severely stretched when Paul allegedly decided the sequence for his wistful portrait of the Maharishi should be filmed in a beach near Nice.
âAnd I Love Herâ (âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ, 1964)
Doe-eyed flamenco vibes abound on one of Paulâs early run-ups to âYesterdayâ.
âMean Mr. Mustardâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
Blur basically got their entire â90s out of Johnâs engrossing one-minute oompah tune inspired by a newspaper story of a âdirty oldâ miser â in real life, one John Mustard of Enfield, Middlesex â who hid his money so he wouldnât be forced to spend it. His level of personal hygiene was unrecorded.
âAltogether Nowâ (âYellow Submarineâ, 1969)
While âYellow Submarineâ and âOctopusâs Gardenâ were story time classics, âAltogether Nowââs nursery-level track easily stands up as The Beatlesâ best childrenâs song.
âHello, Goodbyeâ (single, 1967)
Brisk, bright-eyed and boasting one of the best pre-choruses in pop, âHello, Goodbyeâ would be the best single in most bandsâ careers. Itâs the 107th best song The Beatles wrote. Thatâs how great they were. Strap in: everything from here gets fucking brilliant.
âGood Morning Good Morningâ (âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ, 1967)
The Beatles did a fine line in rise-and-shine tunes, although Johnâs compulsive dawn chorus on âSgt. PepperâŠâ came with a hearty dollop of cynicism, everyday mundanity and casual adultery.

âAnother Girlâ (âHelp!â, 1965)
The Monkees basically got an entire career out of this songâs scene in Help!, in which the band played this Beatlemania cracker on a beach in the Bahamas, with Paul using a bikini-clad girl as a guitar.
âI Want You (Sheâs So Heavy)â (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
The last song all four Beatles recorded together; you can hear the sheer weight of the occasion. At almost eight minutes and smothered in doomy textures and white noise, it would have seen John invent heavy metal if Paul hadnât beaten him to it with âHelter Skelterâ. Instead it invents Pink Floydâs âMeddleâ and provides proof, if any were needed, that stoner rock is basically the blues on military grade tranquilisers.
âWithin You Without Youâ (âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ, 1967)
Probably the ultimate expression of Georgeâs Indian immersion, âWithin You Without Youâ opened many a Western third eye to the wonders of âworld musicâ and Eastern philosophies.
âIâm So Tiredâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
When you shout for âHelp!â and nobody listens, this is where you end up. Tortured, wasted, exhausted and desperate. Even three weeks of solid insomnia at the Maharishiâs retreat canât dampen Lennonâs melodic prowess, as he knocks out the perfect song for day three of the prom night that forgot to finish.
âThe Endâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
Masterful and historic as the climax of the âAbbey Roadâ medley, even taken in isolation âThe Endâ is exultant mood-making, from Ringoâs drum solo to the gathering gospel storm and Paulâs thought-provoking orchestral coda.
âBirthdayâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Along with Stevie Wonderâs âHappy Birthdayâ, The Beatlesâ impassioned 12-bar well-wishing â written and recorded in one night â is usually the best thing about scratching off another year on this godforsaken hellhole of a planet.
âAll Iâve Got To Doâ (âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ, 1964)
A Smokey Robinson homage aimed at the US market â British teens of the â60s would never dream of calling a girl up âon the phoneâ, Lennon later claimed.
âItâs All Too Muchâ (âYellow Submarineâ, 1969)
The sheer euphoria of Georgeâs peak acid song, floating through a blissed-out clamour of noise rock, trumpet and disintegrating beats, makes us all yearn for the days before youâd pay 50 quid for a bag of blotting paper soaked in balsamic vinegar off the dark web.

âBaby, Youâre A Rich Manâ (B-side of âAll You Need Is Loveâ, 1967; âMagical Mystery Tourâ, 1967)
Because weâre all as loaded as Bezos inside, you dig? Sublimely funky ode to our spiritual wealth thatâs still begging the decades-old question: just where in a zoo, exactly, might you stash a bag full of cash?
âDonât Pass Me Byâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Ringoâs long underrated songwriting debut doesnât get the credit it deserves for holding its own on âThe White Albumâ. The sheer clod-hopping junk shop exuberance (unsurprising, since Ringo had been trying to get it recorded since 1962) makes it an album highlight, along with the fiddle player so drunk he doesnât realise the songâs finished. A Number One single in Denmark â and donât think we didnât consider making it number one in this list too, just for the traffic.
âShe Came In Through The Bathroom Windowâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
Plush, proto-Wings country rocker inspired by a fan breaking into Paulâs house to steal photographs. Key to the âAbbey Roadâ medleyâs impression that the band had melodic wonders aplenty to toss into the pile.
âGlass Onionâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Woooah! Meta⊠A Beatles song about The Beatles. Walruses, Strawberry Fields, Lady Madonna and the Fool on the Hill all reprise their roles in Beatles history as Lennon mocks people reading too much into the bandâs lyrics to a chamber rock backing that ELO got at least three early albums out of.
âCarry That Weightâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
It takes a certain classical majesty to slip a grand orchestral reprise of âYou Never Give Me Your Moneyâ into a stonking great lad rock anthem chorus in search of a song.
âYes It Isâ (B-side of âTicket To Rideâ)
Effortlessly reinvented the blue-eyed crooner genre on a frickinâ B-side. Just try not playing it twice.
âP.S. I Love Youâ (B-side of âLove Me Doâ, 1962; âPlease Please Meâ, 1963)
The song The Shadows would have written, had they been the worldâs greatest band in the making.
âGet Backâ (âLet It Beâ, 1970)
Weâve all seen it chug into life in the documentary of the same name, its simple blues strut brought to life by Billy Prestonâs wild-at-heart organ. Still slaps.

âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ (âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ, 1967)
Pre-war nostalgia meets counterculture psychedelia explosion to landscape obliterating effect. And all, the story goes, because Paul didnât know that the âSâ and âPâ on his in-flight meal pots stood for âSaltâ and âPepperâ.
âMichelleâ (âRubber Soulâ, 1965)
In Parisian mood, Paul tries out some schoolboy French to woo a continental bohemian lass. Originally written as a pastiche of a bloke singing a song in French at an art party.
âHey Bulldogâ (âYellow Submarineâ, 1969)
A masterclass in rock dynamism and melodic tension, and testament to the fact that The Beatles buried genius in all corners of their catalogue, smothered in barking noises, ripe for re-evaluation.
âAny Time At Allâ (âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ, 1964)
Trying to write another âIt Wonât Be Longâ, Lennon came up with something a touch more mature â an early sign that The Beatles were on a fast-track out of Merseybeat, bound for somewhere rather more Dylanish.
âLady Madonnaâ (single, 1968)
Marrying his revived interest in 1920s radio jazz (see also: âMartha My Dearâ, âHoney Pieâ) to a dirty â50s swamp blues rockânâroll riot, McCartney imagined a gender-swapped version of Fats Dominoâs working man blues rocker âBlue Mondayâ and came up with a song that rocks until the wheels damn near come off.
âIâm Looking Through Youâ (âRubber Soulâ, 1965)
A fine, fond farewell to the âold Beatlesâ as they approached their giant leap. And yes, that is the riff from The Travelling Wilburysâ âEnd Of The Lineâ at the start â nice recycle, George.
âIâm A Loserâ (âBeatles For Saleâ, 1964)
Considered the first sign of Dylanâs influence on The Beatles, and one of Johnâs early cries for help hidden beneath a storming country-pop melody.
âI Feel Fineâ (single, 1964)
âIâve written this song, but itâs lousy,â Lennon said to Ringo one day in the studio. We call bullshit. One of the first deliberate uses of feedback on record.

âThe Night Beforeâ (âHelp!â, 1965)
âLove was in your eyes, ah, the night before / Now today I find you have changed your mind.â She was pissed Paul, but at least you got a definitive slice of â60s pop out of it. Perfect for playing at, um, Stonehenge (if Help! is anything to go by).
âEight Days A Weekâ (âBeatles For Saleâ, 1964)
A flippant remark Paulâs chauffeur made en route to Johnâs house in Weybridge inspired, that very afternoon, a timeless pop demand for more weekly loving than is reasonable or realistic. But then, âTwice A Week Unless Itâs My Birthdayâ wouldnât have been so catchy.
âNo Replyâ (âBeatles For Saleâ, 1964)
While Paul was in the Virgin Islands with Ringo writing âThings We Said Todayâ, John was in Tahiti with George, knocking together this tropical tale of an unfaithful and unresponsive partner. âYouâre getting better now â that was a complete story,â publisher and Beatles pantomime villain Dick James (sssss!) told John on hearing it.
âI Should Have Known Betterâ (âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ, 1965)
Much harmonica jollity as, with Beatlemania in full swing, John bags himself a good âun. Nanna probably thought it was written specifically for her.
âWith A Little Help From My Friendsâ (âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ, 1967)
Ringoâs finest hour. For once nobody stood up and walked out on him when he sang out this aural hug of a tune, acknowledging his eternal debt to the bandmates without whom he might be slogging the clubs with Merseybeat nostalgia acts to this day.
âGetting Betterâ (âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ, 1967)
With George adding Indian tambura drones and John lumping on world-weary falsetto cynicism (âit canât get no worseâ), another of Paulâs optimistic pop bangers gained deliciously dark edges. Much of the magical frisson of The Beatles can be heard in how clearly John doesnât want to be singing this one.
âHoney Pieâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
We can blame the widespread malaise of âWhite Albumâ fatigue for the back end of the album being under-appreciated for decades. Case in point: Maccaâs utterly charming tribute to the jazz age, complete with authentically crackled gramophone clarinets.
âI Want To Tell Youâ (âRevolverâ, 1966)
LSD musings and dissonant rock as George comes into his own as a rounded songwriter circa â66.

âIt Wonât Be Longâ (âWith The Beatlesâ, 1963)
Effervescent call-and-response âyeahâs. Chord sequences Dylan would call âoutrageousâ. The promises of imminent romantic reunion. The opener of âWith The Beatlesâ is almost Fabs-by-numbers â but boy, what numbers.
âYou Never Give Me Your Moneyâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
If only all fractious business disputes could be argued out like this. With Paul and John looking to lose control of their stakes in their own songs, Paul penned this sublime multi-style paean to manager Allen Klein that basically boiled down to âshow me the mon-aaay!â
âFor No Oneâ (âRevolverâ, 1966)
Cracks appear in Paulâs relationship with Jane Asher; hiding in a toilet in a Swiss Alps chalet he writes a lament for âa love that should have lasted yearsâ, his second chamber ballad for âRevolverâ.
âMagical Mystery Tourâ (âMagical Mystery Tourâ, 1967)
Roll up (hur-hur!) for the trip of a lifetime (pfffft!). This spaced-out rock freewheeler introduced the weirdest Christmas TV special outside of the Grumpy Cat movie. The Who got an entire double concept album, âTommyâ, out of this one song.
âYouâre Going To Lose That Girlâ (âHelp!â, 1965)
Worst. Wingman. Ever. Lennon lurks at the edges of a shaky relationship waiting to pounce, with an irresistible two-minute doo-wopper between his teeth.
âYour Mother Should Knowâ (âMagical Mystery Tourâ, 1967)
Corny, sure, but McCartneyâs vaudevillian Broadway high-kicker was so perfectly crafted it could make the harshest critic want to swing on a sparkly trapeze dressed as a Rockette.
âLong, Long, Longâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Another undervalued back-end-of-âThe Beatlesâ classic, in which George explores the space between drowsy serenity and stark passion and Ringo delivers a dynamic tour de force.
âBack In The USSRâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
No political comedy Beach Boys pastiche has ever rocked so hard before or since.
âSavoy Truffleâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
In honour of Eric Claptonâs sweet tooth, George â quite spectacularly â goes full Stax. Mmmm, crĂšme tangerineâŠ

âDrive My Carâ (âRubber Soulâ, 1965)
Named after an old blues euphemism for shagging â beep beep, and indeed, yeah â âDrive My Carâ finds Paul blues-rocking his way to a pretty sweet deal â lifelong partner and designated driver.
âGood Day Sunshineâ (âRevolverâ, 1966)
A wonderfully lightweight greet-the-dawn ditty inspired by The Kinks‘ âSunny Afternoonâ and, in turn, inventing ELO‘s âMr Blue Skyâ.
âLove You Toâ (âRevolverâ, 1966)
Georgeâs first and finest Indian-influenced song, galloping along on compulsive table rhythms. Alongside âStrawberry FieldsâŠâ and âLucy In The SkyâŠâ, this was the absolute epitome of the psychedelic era. Donât, however, try to making love while singing songs. Doesnât go down well.
âJuliaâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
The separations of the âWhite Albumâ sessions allowed John to finally broach the subject of his mother in song, utilising the finger-picking style Donovan had taught him in India. âHalf of what I say is meaningless, but I say it just to reach you, Julia,â he sings in stunningly intimate manner, imagining her as a siren lost to the sea.
âTicket To Rideâ (âHelp!â, 1965)
Said to be about the clean-health certificates received by Hamburg sex workers, âTicket To Rideâ is acclaimed more for its significance than anything â here was where The Beatles left plain old Merseybeat behind to embrace Indian textures, proto-Byrdsian plushness and future-facing drumwork.
âDay Tripperâ (single, 1965)
Increasingly dabbling with âsecretâ drug and sex references, âDay Tripperâ had a pop at weekend hippies in the shape of a squeaky-clean slice of go-go â60s pop. I mean, look how high Ringo is in the video.
âIâll Follow The Sunâ (âBeatles For Saleâ, 1964)
Written by Paul at the age of 16,. The 1950s clearly missed a trick in not realising there was a schoolkid in Liverpool surpassing all of its wistful guitar balladry.
âRevolutionâ (B-side of âHey Judeâ, 1968)
Delivered as an opiated, horn-blasted shoo-wop shuffle called âRevolution 1â on âThe Beatlesâ, the definitive version of Lennonâs most politically direct Beatles number was the ballsy strut on the flip of âHey Judeâ. Not saying this is where Marc Bolan got the idea for glam rock, but, yâknowâŠ

âBecauseâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
Originating from John asking Yoko to play Beethovenâs ‘Moonlight Sonata’ backwards, The Beatlesâ merging of Moog synthesiser, harpsichord and triple-tracked harmonies makes for one of the most magical moments of the â60s.
âPlease Please Meâ (âPlease Please Meâ, 1963)
Second single and the first real sign of The Beatlesâ devastating pop brilliance. Lennon originally conceived it as a slow-tempo ballad a la Roy Orbisonâs âOnly The Lonelyâ, but a more dynamic version made them superstars.
âIf I Fellâ (âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ, 1964)
Lennonâs first ballad attempt turned out to be a crooner masterclass.
âEverybodyâs Got Something To Hide Except Me And My Monkeyâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Lennon sheds his psychedelic satins and rocks out â fire bells and all â around phrases learned during the Transcendental Meditation retreat â only the monkey bit wasnât taken verbatim from the lips of the Maharishi. The monkey in question, John would later claim, was Yoko.
âCry Baby Cryâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Another under-appreciated side-four-of-âThe White Albumâ treasure, wherein John twists the nursery rhyme âSing A Song Of Sixpenceâ into an eerie vaudevillian rock piece akin to Lewis Carroll going goth.
âYouâve Got To Hide Your Love Awayâ (âHelp!â, 1965)
Arguably the Beatles song showing the greatest Dylan influence â Lennon even lands one of Bobâs trademark backflipping âheyâs in the chorus â âYouâve Got To Hide Your Love Awayâ has been read as either a song about Brian Epsteinâs homosexuality or Lennonâs frustration at having to keep his marriage secret.
âYou Wonât See Meâ (âRubber Soulâ, 1965)
More Jane Asher woes from Paul, delivered like a honeymoon serenade.
âMother Natureâs Sonâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Paulâs balladry could verge on the schmaltzy and sentimental, but the gentle, pastoral tone of this âWhite Albumâ favourite about the Maharishi struck a more idyllic note.
âSexy Sadieâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Johnâs Maharishi tribute, however, wasnât quite so rosy. The last song he wrote at the retreat in Rishikesh, in the wake of hearing about the spiritual leaderâs alleged advances on Mia Farrow, âSexy Sadieâ became a sultry piano-led groover once Lennon had rewritten some of the more expletive-laden original lyrics.

âIâve Just Seen A Faceâ (âHelp!â, 1965)
Capturing the breathlessness of love at first sight, Paul presumably sang this fantastic bluegrass frenzy while breathing through his ears.
âI Willâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
âA complete tune,â McCartney said of one of his favourite acoustic ballads, written with Donovanâs help in Rishikesh, throwing back to the rhumba numbers they played in Hamburg and featuring John on maracas.
âIâm Only Sleepingâ (âRevolverâ, 1966)
John Lennon â âthe laziest person in Englandâ, according to friend Maureen Cleave â could even turn his lie-ins into melodic gold. Features the first backwards guitar solo in popular song.
âHappiness Is A Warm Gunâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Instigating a new form of popular songwriting in the shape of the multi-sectional song (see also: âBohemian Rhapsodyâ, âParanoid Androidâ, all prog music ever, etc.), Lennon himself separated the three parts of âHappinessâŠâ into âThe Dirty Old Manâ, âThe Junkieâ and âThe Gun Slingerâ. All about shagging Yoko, apparently.
âNorwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)â (âRubber Soulâ, 1965)
John relates a luxuriantly appointed â if rather short on furniture â one-night stand gone awry to the point of casual arson, while George introduces the sitar to Western audiences.
âShe Loves Youâ (single, 1963)
Cue Beatlemania! The bandâs best-selling UK single and the song that launched a billion wobble-headed âwoooo!âs (though Little Richard got there first).
âDear Prudenceâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
The Beatlesâ time on the ashram was one of their most productive songwriting periods, producing plenty of âWhite Albumâ greats, not least Johnâs superlative pastoral rock plea to Mia Farrowâs sister Prudence to stop meditating for days on end.
âFrom Me To Youâ (âWith The Beatlesâ, 1963)
The sheer simplicity and familiarity of The Beatlesâ early hits often makes us forget how impactful they were â âFrom Me To Youâ is so embedded in the bedrock of popular culture precisely because it hit like a pop revolution, set apart from the skiffle, blues, country and croon, and behind formative rockânâroll. Almost 60 years on, itâs still breath-taking.

âLucy In The Sky With Diamondsâ (âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ, 1967)
Not a drug song â I mean, what could possibly give you that idea? â Lennonâs psychedelic calling card was apparently actually inspired by a crazy painting his son Julian brought home from school. Still great on drugs, though.
âShe Said She Saidâ (âRevolverâ, 1966)
Definitely a drug song, Johnâs garbled LSD conversation with Peter Fonda, set to three different tunes and two time signatures, lay the blueprint for acid rock which the noble heads of Haight Ashbury would soon follow.
âTaxmanâ (âRevolverâ, 1966)
With George, in surprise breadhead mode, slashing out acerbic chords and biting political lyrics, his song-bomb dropped on HMRC has been considered the first punk track. Certainly inspired The Jamâs âStartâ.
âNowhere Manâ (âRubber Soulâ, 1965)
Hereâs another truth for you all: the Nowhere Man was John. âRubber Soulââs harmonic wonder came to him wholesale during a particularly lost and directionless morning. âI was starting to worry about him,â said Paul.
âSheâs Leaving Homeâ (âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ, 1967)
The true story of Melanie Coe running away from home, as read by McCartney in the Daily Mirror, and among the most touching and sophisticated ballads of all time.
âHere, There And Everywhereâ (âRevolverâ, 1966)
âSoppy Paulâ was never more adorable than on this feather bath of a love song. If Radox made recordsâŠ
âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ (âA Hard Dayâs Nightâ, 1964)
Its opening chord stopped the world and the rest of the title track from their debut film sent it into a breakneck spin. Not bad for a song written and recorded inside a day.
âCanât Buy Me Loveâ (single, 1964)
Getting his priorities straight early on, Paul defined The Beatles as categorically not in it for the money on their jubilant sixth single, a fact that publisher Dick James had already taken advantage of by screwing them on their contract.

âRainâ (B-side of âPaperback Writerâ, 1966)
âJa, the god of marijuana,â reportedly gifted John this immaculate piece of drone pop that came to him in a spliff stupor â the-first ever reversed section on a pop record was the result of Lennon accidentally playing his tape backwards. You pull a whitey; Lennon invents psych rock.
âThe Long And Winding Roadâ (âLet It Beâ, 1970)
Even with Phil Spectorâs syrupy Golden Age orchestra drowning the track, Paulâs grand rambling anthem remains spectacularly powerful.
âCome Togetherâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
Even slowing his (ahem) homage to Chuck Berryâs âYou Canât Catch Meâ down to a sleazy crawl couldnât stop âCome Togetherâ garnering Lennon a lawsuit. As part of an agreement with the plaintiff, Morris Levy, heâd have to record an entire album of covers (‘Rock âNâ Rollâ) in 1975 to shake it off. In the realm of dank blues, though, The Beatles were never better. Iâd get that joo-joo eyeball looked at though, mate.
âI Saw Her Standing Thereâ (âPlease Please Meâ, 1963)
At the very start of their very first album, The Beatles essentially summed up all of rockânâroll to that point, perfected it â and then swiftly moved on.
âI Want To Hold Your Hand’ (single, 1963)
Their best-selling single worldwide and the tune that made them the One Direction of their day. Still sounds like a pop revolution in the making.
âHelter Skelterâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Maccaâs depiction of a simple fairground frolic summoned forth heavy metal; the slide must have been built over an ancient burial ground. Written to be as feral as possible in riposte to critics describing his as âthe soppy oneâ.
âI Am The Walrusâ (âMagical Mystery Tourâ, 1967)
Written to confuse those studying Beatles lyrics, âI Am The Walrusâ incorporated three Lennon songs stuck together, lines that came to him during acid trips, an old school song, Georgeâs personal mantra from the Maharishi, references to Lewis Carroll, Hare Krishnas, Allen Ginsberg, Sergeant Pilcher of the British Policeâs Drug Squad and a 16-person choir babbling nonsense. Eric Burdon of The Animals has claimed to be the Eggman.

âHelp!â (âHelp!â, 1965)
John sang it through a smile that was more like a wince â he really was crying for help from the eye of the Beatlemania tornado â but the title track from The Fabsâ second film rattled by with such jubilance that nobody noticed. Also helped instil the belief that John and Paul were so close they could finish each otherâs sentences.
âTwo Of Usâ (âLet It Beâ, 1970)
As The Beatles fractured and frayed during the âLet It Beâ sessions, it was heartening to hear Paul and John clearly at the same microphone again, homeward bound, harmonising what sounded like a Simon & Garfunkel style ode to their own friendship: Yyou and I have memories longer than the road that stretches out aheadâŠâ (Spoiler: actually about Linda).
âLet It Beâ (âLet It Beâ, 1970)
If âJuliaâ, Lennonâs tribute to his mother, was subdued, McCartney spared no bombast in honouring his own. He wrote her one of the greatest gospel ballads ever put to tape, following a dream in which she told him: âIt will be alright / Just let it be.â
âPenny Laneâ (single, 1967)
Describing the scenes that the young John, Paul and George would witness while waiting for buses en route to each otherâs houses âPenny Laneâ, married to its double A-side âStrawberry Fields Foreverâ, injected a childlike magic into the psychedelic era.
âAll You Need Is Loveâ (single, 1967)
Simplistic by design, in order to speak most directly to the global audience of the first international TV satellite broadcast Our World, Johnâs definitive flower power anthem proved a striking political statement in the age of Vietnam and Cold War hostility.
âGot To Get You Into My Lifeâ (âRevolverâ, 1966)
An âode to potâ, as Macca once put it, Motown rocker âGet To Get You Into My Lifeâ was another late-âRevolverâ statement that, as a studio band, The Beatles of 1966 had discarded any concept of boundary or limitation on their music. Still two-and-a-half of their most thrilling minutes.
âAcross The Universeâ (âLet It Beâ, 1970)
John on a transcendental cosmic trip to the heart of the â60s. In 2008 it became the first song ever beamed into deep space when NASA played it at Polaris. Imagine the disappointment of the aliens showing up at the source only to find that LadBaby is Number One.
âMartha My Dearâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
The best of McCartneyâs tributes to the â20s on âThe White Albumâ, thanks to a string section, marching band and a bit where it forgets itself and almost turns into a sequel to âTaxmanâ. The Martha in question, trivia fans, was Paulâs sheepdog.

âIn My Lifeâ (âRubber Soulâ, 1965)
John would call âIn My Lifeâ his first major work (although Paul would claim to have written the music) thanks to its reflective and philosophical tone. Inspired a spate of albums featuring harpsichords, despite the solo actually being played on piano, then sped up.
âGolden Slumbersâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
Thomas Dekkerâs Elizabethan poem âCradle Songâ had been set to music by four previous composers before McCartney spotted it on some of his fatherâs sheet music and made up his own epic lullaby to it. Not that itâs too easy to drop off to a 30-piece orchestra going full balls, mind.
âYesterdayâ (âHelp!â, 1965)
Famously working-titled âScrambled Eggsâ, Paulâs most successful Beatles song ($60 million in royalties and counting) came to him in a dream; he spent two weeks playing it to music industry people to try to work out who heâd stolen it from.
âAnd Your Bird Can Singâ (âRevolverâ, 1966)
Lennon dismissed the song as âthrowawayâ, but itâs Georgeâs molten mercury riffs that elevate âAnd Your Bird Can Singâ into the upper echelon of the Beatles canon. Marianne Faithfull claimed the song was directed at Mick Jagger, whom she dated in 1966; sadly, the dates donât match up.
âEleanor Rigbyâ (âRevolverâ, 1966)
Taking loneliness, solemnity and death to the top of the charts, âEleanor Rigbyââs tender, intimate chamber balladry shifted the goalposts in terms of what a pop band could do in 1966.
âHere Comes The Sunâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
Spotifyâs most-streamed Beatles song, written by George in Eric Claptonâs garden during what was, at the time, the sunniest April on record.
âWe Can Work It Outâ (single, 1966)
Paul in optimistic mood amid his increasingly turbulent relationship with Asher, playing off against Johnâs more pessimistic âlife is very shortâ middle-eight waltz. Damn near to pop perfection.
âAll My Lovingâ (âWith The Beatlesâ, 1964)
Pop perfection, eh? The harmonies coming in on the third verse of âAll My Lovingâ did for â60s pop what The Wizard Of Oz did for colour cinema.

âPaperback Writerâ (single, 1966)
Feeling the pain of the worldâs wannabe Barbara Cartlands, McCartney penned this fictitious open letter to a publisher, spun into harmonic gold by the staggered â and staggering â vocal intro.
âBlackbirdâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
Paulâs civil rights plea is a âWhite Albumâ high-point that remains The Beatlesâ most poignant and accomplished folk moment.
âWhile My Guitar Gently Weepsâ (âThe Beatlesâ, 1968)
The ascendance of George. Every bit the songwriting equal of his bandmates by âThe White Albumâ, his tour-de-force was a captivating treatise on humanityâs unrealised capacity for love, topped off with Eric Claptonâs sensational, uncredited solo.
âSomethingâ (âAbbey Roadâ, 1969)
The Beatlesâ greatest love song and second-most covered track (after âYesterdayâ), written for Pattie Boyd and very nearly given to Joe Cocker. Elton John would call it âthe song Iâve been chasing for 35 years.â
âStrawberry Fields Foreverâ (single, 1967)
Even at a time when The Beatles were crushing musical barriers at every session. âStrawberry Fields Foreverâ was among their most ground-breaking moments. Strapping two different versions of the song together, smothered in Mellotron, tape loops, Indian swarmandal and backwards tomfoolery, they forged a psychedelic masterwork that set the tone and raised the bar for the era.
âHey Judeâ (single, 1968)
Wonât somebody think of the children? Well, Paul did, composing The Beatlesâ most rousing sing-along to comfort Julian Lennon over the break-up of his parents. Rumour has it that if you put your ear to the ground at Glastonburyâs stone circle, you can hear the âna-na-naâ bit from Maccaâs set in 2004 still reverberating through the leyline.
âA Day In The Lifeâ (âSgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâ, 1967)
The internal universe exploded; the everyday made epic. Lennonâs âSgt. PepperâŠâ closer viewed a series of newspaper articles â about the death of Guinness heir Tara Browne and road repairs in Lancashire â through LSD specs and came out with a world-beating vision. Includes arguably the most famous crescendo in rock.
âTomorrow Never Knowsâ (âRevolverâ, 1966)
Itâs possible to trace the origins of most modern music, bar rap, back to The Beatles catalogue. But âTomorrow Never Knowsâ was perhaps their most influential track of all. In trying to recreate the sound in Lennonâs head of monks chanting in some cosmic mountain retreat, to accompany lines cribbed from the Tibetan Book Of The Dead intended to emulate a transcendental acid high, the band experimented with loops, sampling, drone and tape manipulation, creating not just the epitome of psychedelia and exposing pop audiences to anti-materialist Eastern ideas, but effectively inventing dance music.
Turn off your mind, relax, and you can hear The Chemical Brothers before The Chemical Brothers were even bornâŠ
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