BEATLES - Let It Be… Naked

Following the titanic release of the "Anthology" series (a true delight for the exegetes, Lennon's posthumous resurrections aside), the remastering of "Yellow Submarine" and the best-selling Greatest Hits "1", the 2003 Christmas release under the ever-enduring Beatles brand is called "Let It Be… Naked".

First of all, it's worth clarifying that this album is not a reissue of its near-namesake, released in April 1970 with the group already broken up. In the intentions of the surviving McCartney and Starr (more the former, probably), this record aims to be the definitive edition of the material recorded during the infamous January 1969 sessions for the aborted "Get Back" project. The story is well known and hardly needs retelling; suffice it to say that the internal friction within the band, the ill-fated circumstances under which it was conceived, and the unhappy statements that followed the release of the original "Let It Be" (sparked above all by Phil Spector's controversial production) gave rise to an aura of negativity around the whole project, which has always been regarded as one of the unhappiest and least successful moments of the quartet's career, as well as the unworthy epilogue to a dazzling legend.

Thirty-four years on, Paul McCartney, promoter and originator of the original project, gets his revenge. One could talk endlessly about whether this move was warranted or not. It's all too easy to be cynical, and analysing the result of the "Let It Be… Naked" operation without bias is no small task. On one hand there's the unfulfilled dream of the most diehard fans, who wanted to finally see the legendary original "Get Back" compiled by engineer Glyn Johns released (though it was probably so unfinished that it didn't really deserve release); on the other, there's the scepticism of those who wonder what the point is of scraping the bottom of the barrel by "re-releasing" an album full of songs that are more than familiar, already published over thirty years ago. In between sits this "Let It Be… Naked", which is neither Glyn Johns's original master nor, as many mistakenly believe, the de-Spectorized version of the 1970 album. It's true that the much-discussed orchestral additions by the eccentric American producer have vanished (though a couple of remnants of Spector's "cut and paste" approach remain compared to Johns's "raw" versions), just as the overdubs made by the Beatles themselves before release have disappeared. But the "studio chat" that had characterised the original project is gone too (this absence is made up for by a twenty-minute bonus disc aptly titled "Fly On The Wall", for the benefit of the more voyeuristic fans).

The tracklist has been significantly reworked, both in sequence (the symbolic opening with "Get Back" and closing with "Let It Be", the beginning and end of a dream) and in content (the unfinished "Dig It" and "Maggie Mae" cut, and "Don't Let Me Down", left off the 1970 running order, reinstated). For some songs ("Don't Let Me Down", "The Long And Winding Road" and "Let It Be") different takes were chosen from those used on the masters thirty-four years ago. And everything has been re-edited, cleaned up and remixed. In other words, the original material from the 1969 sessions has been re-produced and re-released. For this reason "Let It Be… Naked" is not (only) a commercial move, but a release worth paying attention to. It is, to all intents and purposes, the new Beatles album. And, seen in that light, it can prove to be a listen as interesting as it is enjoyable.

Songs born under a bad star take on a new dimension, thanks to a treatment that has greatly benefited the sound (much warmer and, at the same time, "dirtier", as was originally intended). With the studio "tricks" set aside, here are the Beatles "with their trousers down" (as Lennon himself put it): four musicians, aided by an additional keyboardist, the excellent Billy Preston, playing a "revivalist" rock, mindful of their youthful listening habits and the days when they earned their bread playing in the worst dives. Had the album come out in this form thirty-four years ago, critics would have called it the Beatles' "American" record. Absent are the schizophrenic shifts in mood (and colour) of the double "The Beatles"; instead we get a classic alternation of rock numbers and ballads. Without the orchestral additions the sound is undoubtedly more homogeneous, and where technique falls short, heart and genuine rock'n'roll spirit make up for it (memorably distilled in "I've Got A Feeling", the ultimate compositional synergy of the Lennon/McCartney duo).

Of the eleven songs, all already released in other forms, at least five are considered classics of the group; worth noting are the new versions of "Don't Let Me Down", with an unreleased three-part harmony; "Across The Universe" (originally a filler track!), here in a stripped-down acoustic version, adorned only by a drone in the background courtesy of Harrison's usual sitar and marked by reverbs that make it, if anything, even dreamier; and the title track, with organ and bass brought further forward, a different guitar solo, and a vocal performance that's decidedly more heartfelt and "soul". The true gem of the record is "The Long And Winding Road", the bone of contention after the release of the 1970 "Let It Be" and the most notorious victim of Spector's treatment, who had transfigured it into a languid, overblown lullaby. This new version (although, to be fair, another take, albeit fragmentary, had already appeared on "Anthology 3") is — perhaps — the final chapter in the sad controversy that accompanied the bitter final phases of the band's breakup. Stripped bare, barely touched by the other instruments, the song flows languidly and can be appreciated in all its original lyricism, full of regret, becoming once again a solitary, melancholy song, just as its author McCartney had intended. And even if it is at the very least curious that the ex-Beatle has, over all these years, continued to perform Spector's arrangement live, this version of "The Long And Winding Road" is a disarming beauty, timeless.

Forget the inevitable controversy that follows every new Beatles release: "Let It Be… Naked" is a record to be listened to with a clear mind. If the 1970 original drastically brought us back to the reality of a shattered dream, listening to this record gives the childlike impression that the dream never actually ended. History left out ("Get Back", "Let It Be"), Myth let in ("Let It Be… Naked").

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26/10/2006