Did you ever wonder if the Beatles knew that they were the Beatles?
I mean, beyond their cool name. Not that being the Quarrymen or the Silver Beetles might have kept them from becoming the Beatles of our pop culture pantheon. The group that we tend to use as a measuring stick for all other groups before and since. Did they understand the legacy that they were creating, or were they simply trapped in a bubble that felt normal to them?
I submit the apocryphal tale about the night of April 24, 1976. After being broken up as a group for several years, having each struck out on their own solo careers, John invited his old friend and bandmate into his home at The Dakota. John was interested in watching Saturday Night Live, to see Raquel Welch and another old acquaintance, John Sebastian of the Lovin' Spoonful. In addition to those two celebrities, the producer of the show made an appearance. Lorne Michaels showed up with an offer to the Fab Four to reunite on his program for the amusing price of three thousand dollars. He had no way of knowing that half of that group were watching. And he also had no way of knowing that they were considering hopping in a cab and popping by the live broadcast.
Because three thousand dollars is three thousand dollars, right?
It didn't happen. The Beatles never reunited. There was no Farewell Tour. There was no Farewell Tour Part 2. There was no We Really Mean It This Time Farewell Tour. They had done their thing and there it sat for historians and music fans and music fans who happen to be historians to ponder. Were the Beatles that which none greater can be imagined? They were a pop music group. They specialized in three minute songs about love and sheep dogs.
And long before they were the quintessential rock band, they were musicians looking for a break and playing in the strip clubs of Berlin. And it took them firing their original drummer and auditioning for a couple record labels before they even had a chance to make it big. They were the quintessential working band. Gigging until the could get a record deal.
But it makes me wonder when, or if, there was a moment when the four of them were alone in a room somewhere and realized that they were It. John got in trouble for comparing the Beatles to Jesus, and all those screaming teenagers seemed to be pretty firm in their convictions. They recorded Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, for heaven's sake. The Best Album Of All Time. Fans and critics alike seem to agree.
What about John, Paul, George and Ringo? Did they know what they were doing? Or was it simply lightning in a seven year bottle, spanning their first and last albums together? If John and Paul had taken that cab and showed up, a little worse for wear and proceeded to diminish their legend?
For three thousand dollars? That might have cemented it for me, anyway.
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