Why the white album is the Beatles' greatest

 Fifty years ago, The Beatles’ ninth album ‘made a fitting capstone for one of the most wildly eventful years of the 20th Century’ but remains as mysterious and elusive as Moby-Dick.
Five years ago I stood in a room containing nothing but White Albums. For his installation We Buy White Albums, the Californian artist Rutherford Chang had filled a small gallery in Manhattan with 693 vinyl copies of the ninth Beatles album, some on the walls, some in racks.

Rutherford Chang filled a gallery in Manhattan with 693 vinyl copies of the ninth Beatles album

 The sleeve, designed by Pop artist Richard Hamilton, is famously blank but every one of these copies was faded, stained, torn, illustrated, signed or otherwise altered in some unique way, whether by a human hand or simply by the passing of time. As I studied them, I listened to multiple copies of side one playing simultaneously and slowly drifting out of sync, rendering these exceptionally famous songs eerie and strange.
There’s something about The White Album that invites listeners to mess around with it. Joan Didion stole its title for her 1979 essay collection, an elegy for the dreams of 1960s California. The producer Danger Mouse chopped it to pieces and recombined the fragments with vocals from Jay-Z’s The Black Album to create his 2004 mash-up The Grey Album. The jam band Phish covered all 30 songs on stage on Halloween night, 1994. Charles Manson, notoriously, had his own theories. Even the title has been rewritten: The Beatles called it The Beatles but their fans had other ideas.

The sleeve, designed by Pop artist Richard Hamilton, was famously blank

 The new reissue defamiliarises the album yet again, with 27 demos, 50 outtakes, and a thorough digital reconstruction by Giles Martin, the son of Beatles producer George Martin. The White Album is the only record by the most analysed group in the history of popular music that still retains considerable mystery, because there’s just so much of it. Whether or not you consider it the best Beatles album (I do), it’s certainly the most Beatles album.

‘A shambling mansion’

It therefore attracts two kinds of fan: the editor and the sprawler. The editor trims and tweaks the tracklisting to create a more consistently satisfying record. The sprawler accepts it for what it is, with all its imperfections. I once toyed with being an editor (goodbye Wild Honey Pie, so long Savoy Truffle) and ended up with a tight playlist of impeccably great songs. But it wasn’t The White Album, any more than Moby-Dick minus all the chapters about the whaling industry would still be Moby-Dick.

The Beatles entered Abbey Road Studios to start recording on 30 May, and administered the finishing touches on 14 October 1968

The White Album’s working title was A Doll’s House, and it could be compared to a shambling mansion, with ballrooms, bedrooms, nurseries, cellars, and rooms full of junk that are rarely visited. It starts with a joke and ends with a lullaby. Between those two points, this omnivorous record takes bites out of folk, blues, rock’n’roll, ska, country, doo-wop, psychedelia, Tin Pan Alley, musique concrete and easy listening, while offering previsions of prog-rock and heavy metal. Happiness is a Warm Gun alone is three songs in one. Songwriting inspirations include a box of chocolates, a gun magazine, a Little Richard movie, Mia Farrow’s sister, monkey sex and, on the barbed wind-up Glass Onion, The Beatles’ own history.

The White Album was the first major release to deploy incoherence as a deliberate artistic strategy. It contains space-fillers even though there’s no space that needs filling, and is sequenced in such a way as to accentuate its jumbling together of the archaic and the avant-garde, the meaningless and the profound, the generous and the toxic, the ragged and the luminous, the spiritual and the profane, the desperately moving and the too silly for words. Many of John Lennon’s cryptic contributions are an assault on rationality itself. To be an editor is to presume that somehow The Beatles got it wrong and would rather have released 45 minutes of bangers. To be a sprawler is to embrace that rare, intoxicating quality that you might call everythingness. Perhaps that is why they called it The Beatles. This is what The Beatles is in 1968, the title implied. All of it. The whole damn mess.

Over the years we’ve learned almost everything there is to know about the circumstances of its creation. We know that due to various rows, sulks and walkouts, the first stage of the band’s disintegration, all four Beatles appear on fewer than half the songs. We know about Yoko Ono’s contentious presence, Ringo’s huffy absence from Back in the USSR, John’s contempt for Paul’s “granny music shit”, and so on. We know that they were less than a year away from the last time that they all stood in a studio together, although in the newly released demos we can also hear that there was still plenty of fun to be had, despite those fissures. Even at the time, I imagine, one could hear pop’s quintessential gang of mates splintering into four individuals, and their musical fusions unravelling into discrete genre exercises. Listening to it is like watching an explosion in slow motion.

‘Wild, whirling spirit’

The White Album therefore made a fitting capstone for one of the most wildly eventful years of the 20th Century. The Beatles entered Abbey Road Studios to start recording on 30 May, and administered the finishing touches on 14 October. In that year, Charles de Gaulle quelled the student protests in Paris; Warsaw Pact tanks rolled into Prague; Robert F Kennedy was shot dead in Los Angeles; James Earl Ray was arrested for the murder of Martin Luther King; the Democratic National Convention in Chicago was marked by violence and chaos to the delight of Republican candidate Richard Nixon; the Ba’ath Party seized power in Iraq; the Tet Offensive concluded in Vietnam; the Troubles began in Northern Ireland; Andy Warhol mounted his first exhibition in Britain (and survived an assassination attempt); feminists protested the Miss America pageant in Atlantic City; censorship in British theatres came to an end, prompting the cast of Hair to take to the stage naked; Britain’s first abortion clinic opened its doors; and Nasa launched the first manned mission to the moon. It was an everything-at-once kind of year.

While The White Album was being recorded, second-wave feminists protested the Miss America pageant in Atlantic City

 The White Album explicitly acknowledges almost none of this. On the rare occasions that it is political, it is muddled, petty or vague. John Lennon was so conflicted about that spring’s wave of protests that he hedged his bets on Revolution 1 (“Don’t you know that you can count me out… in”), and his inscrutable Stockhausen-inspired sample collage Revolution 9 obscured more than it revealed. Only decades later did Paul McCartney reveal that Blackbird was meant to be an ode to the women of the civil rights movement. George Harrison’s Piggies is a sour pellet of misanthropy fired at anyone foolish enough to be ordinary. Most of the songs were written during a Transcendental Meditation course in India, a long way from the barricades of Paris or Prague.

Most of the album’s songs were written during a Transcendental Meditation course in India

Some ‘68 radicals resented The Beatles’ distance from the frontlines (and scolded Lennon to his face) but The White Album didn’t need to describe the year’s events in order to capture its wild, whirling spirit. Like Radiohead’s OK Computer or the Specials’ Ghost Town, it is one of those records where a band’s internal turmoil mingled with the unrest of the wider world: by being true to their own tensions and insecurities, The Beatles connected powerfully with those of their listeners. To many people, 1968 felt exciting, infuriating, liberating, terrifying, funny, sad, depressing, exhausting and bewildering.

Between the tumbling madness of Helter Skelter, the helpless spectatorism of While My Guitar Gently Weeps, the suicidal grind of Yer Blues, the macabre whimsy of Rocky Raccoon, the defeated sigh of I’m So Tired, the hallucinatory swoon of Dear Prudence, the sonic maelstrom of Revolution 9, and the gentle stoicism of I Will, here was an album that expressed every emotion and its opposite. If you felt that things were falling apart and the centre could not hold, then, boy, did The Beatles have the perfect record for you. In the Sunday Times newspaper, Derek Jewell wrote that The Beatles were “created by, created for, their age”.

In the Sunday Times newspaper, Derek Jewell wrote that The Beatles were “created by, created for, their age”

In a far less enduring review, New York Times critic Mike Jahn dismissed the album as “hip Muzak, a soundtrack for head shops, parties and discotheques,” and unfavourably compared it to jazz-rock group Blood, Sweat and Tears. Oops. But I can sympathise with anyone tasked with reviewing The White Album the week it came out, because even now it’s impossible to summarise. That’s what keeps it alive. Its illustrious predecessor Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band can feel, decades later, like a snow globe of 1967: exquisite, of course, but sealed tight, impermeable to new interpretations. The White Album feels roomy, unguarded and, in some peculiar way, malleable. Every time I hear it, there’s always something I’ve forgotten or can’t pin down.

On the face of it, one of the busy, dissonant Pop Art collages that made Richard Hamilton famous might have been a more apt sleeve design for such a teeming album, but his blank-slate minimalism sends a different message: make of this what you will. As EM Forster said of Herman Melville’s novel, “Moby-Dick is full of meanings: its meaning is a different problem.” Fifty years later, in another era of upheaval, dislocation, paranoia and confusion, The White Album remains pop music’s great white whale: forever enthralling, forever elusive.

The White Album: Newsweek's Original Review from 1968

The Beatles, Ringo Starr (rear) and (l. to r.) Paul McCartney, George Harrison, John Lennon rehearse for Ed Sullivan show.

Sometimes Newsweek gets it wrong. This was one of those times. Fifty years ago, when The Beatles released their self-titled, double-LP masterpiece (more commonly known as The White Album), our longtime critic Hubert Saal bashed it as impudent and "dull."

Though Saal had some complimentary things to say—particularly when it came to George Harrison's contributions—his assessment of the now-classic album was primarily negative. Published in the December 9, 1968, issue, the lukewarm assessment particularly contrasted with Newsweek's gushing review of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, which was "marvelous" and "brilliant" and referred to the Fab Four as "Britain's new Poet Laureate[s]." What follows is the original White Album review on the occasion of the album's 50th anniversary. It has never been available online before now. 

America could hardly wait for the new two-record Beatles album. Capitol Records sold 1.1 million copies in the first five days at $11.58, the highest price ever asked for two pop disks. At that price the buyer doesn't even get a handsome colorful jacket like those enclosing the two previous Beatles records, Magical Mystery Tour and Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. The new jacket is plain white, like a printing error, and its title, The Beatles, is faintly embossed somewhere on it.
 Video: Paul McCartney speaks to 60 Minutes

Caveat emptor. Sad to say, but the blankness extends into the records within. With 30 arrows of song, it's hard to see how the brilliant quartet could have missed their marks so often. Unlike previous alums, the bull's-eye of variety in lyrics, wit, ease of style that made changing keys or tempi natural, lovely love songs, and adventures in electronics is rarely hit in The Beatles.

Targets:

What they've done for the most part is put their tongue in their cheek—and apparently got it stuck in the bubble gum. Sixteen of the 25 songs credited to Lennon and McCartney are in one way or another parodies. "Back in the U.S.S.R.," which is pretty good, takes off on the Beach Boys. "Glass Onion" is a mindless collection of allusions to their own songs. Bob Dylan is the target of "Yer Blues," Elvis Presley of "Rocky Raccoon," Donovan of "Mother Nature's Son," the Rolling Stones of "Why Don't We Do It In the Road?" "Martha My Dear," "Honey Pie" and "Good Night" are all Tiny-Timorous copies of the past, from English music halls to postwar singalongs. They're good copies, as are the songs which ape gospel, blues, folk ballads, calypso and African primitivism. But irreverence becomes impudence and imitation dull.

In this album the Beatles are not a lot better off on their own as social commentators, as when they discover in "Piggies" that people can be greedy, or in "Revolution 1" that Chinese Communism may not be the best of all possible worlds. This after rolling the universe into a ball in the immortal "A Day in the Life"? In fact in most of the 30 songs the Beatles sound either uptight or, what's worse, so loose as to be coming apart, as if no center holds them fast, apt targets for a line from one of their new songs, "I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink."

Hero:

When they stop being Alexander Pope or Max Beerbohm the Beatles turn out the fine hard rock "Helter Skelter," a bluesy "Happiness Is a Warm Gun" with an orgasmic ending that Mick Jagger would admire, and two fine melodic songs to solo guitar—"Julia," with effective seaside images, and "Blackbird," which has all the whit and wonder of poetry: "Blackbird fly / Into the light of the dark black night . . . You were only waiting for this moment to arise."

Still the album has a hero. George Harrison has his Oriental kick under control and the two best songs are his. "Long, Long, Long" is deceptively simple, beautifully melodic and explosively punctuated; "Savoy Truffle" appears to sing the praises of food and in fact is all about suffering. With his help and some judicious editing the Beatles could have turned out a real fine album of one long-playing record—and maybe even put a picture on the jacket.

Facing Disturbance, Lion Air Pilot Strikes Up The Plane Before Fall

Black box of Lion Air JT 610 aircraft

Flight data in the Lion Air JT610 black box, which crashed on October 29, showed the pilot's efforts to raise the nose of the plane that was always down. This disclosure is in line with the report of one of the media calling for an error in the control system on the Boeing 737Max 8.

In a preliminary report on the Flight Data Recorder (FDR) investigation in a section of the 

Lion Air JT610 black box, Wednesday (11/28), the Transportai National Safety Commission (NTSC) said the pilot had a control problem on a flight from Jakarta to Pangkal Pinang.

When the pilot raises the aircraft flap, the system automatically lowers the nose or nose down. Black box data shows, the pilot immediately raises the nose or nose up.

But what happened then, the plane's nose dropped back again, then raised again by the pilot. This condition occurred repeatedly until the plane crashed in the sea 13 minutes after taking off from Soekarno-Hatta International Airport, Cengkareng.

A total of 189 crew and passengers were killed in this event."The movement of the nose up and down takes place again until the end of the flight recording," said the Head of the Sub-Committee of the Flight Committee of the NTSC Nurcahyo Utomo in his statement.

In that condition, said Nurcahyo, the pilot reported to the watchtower that the plane's height could not be maintained. The pilot then asked the watchtower to secure the airspace below and on the plane.

"The pilot asked the controller to close the height of 3,000 above and below. This is to avoid any collisions in the air," Nurcahyo said.

According to Nurcahyo also, this condition occurred due to some damage that occurred in the newly purchased aircraft in August. This damage was found on a previous flight, from Denpasar to Jakarta.

"In this event there are multiple malfunctions," Nurcahyo said again.This black box inspection report is in accordance with previous allegations that there was damage to the flight control system of the Boeing 737 Max 8. This damage and guidance on how the pilots handled it were notified by Boeing after the Lion Air incident occurred, killing 189 crew and passengers.

Sources of investigators previously told the Wall Street Journal (WSJ) last month said that if Boeing told it in advance it could be a Lion Air incident that could be avoided. Because this system did not exist in the previous version 737 so it was not familiar among pilots.

How 'miniature suns' could provide cheap, clean energy

Our sun is a huge nuclear fusion reactor. Can we mimic its energy-making process on earth?

 We're just five years away from harnessing almost unlimited power from "miniature suns", some start-ups say: nuclear fusion reactors that could provide abundant, cheap and clean energy.

In a world of global warming caused by our addiction to fossil fuels, there is an urgent need to find sustainable alternative sources of energy.

If we don't, the future looks decidedly bleak for millions of people on this planet: water and food shortages leading to famine and war.

Nuclear fusion has long been heralded as a potential answer to our prayers. But it's always been "thirty years away", according to the industry joke.

Now several start-ups are saying they can make fusion a commercial reality much sooner.

What is nuclear fusion exactly?

Nuclear fusion is the merging of atomic nuclei to release masses of energy and it has the potential to address our energy crisis.

It's the same process that powers the sun, and it's clean and - relatively - safe. There are no emissions.

But forcing these nuclei - deuterium and tritium, both forms of hydrogen - to fuse together under immense pressure takes huge amounts of energy - more than we've managed to get out so far.

Nuclear fusion produces huge amounts of energy, but it's difficult to achieve and control

Reaching "energy gain", the point at which we get out more energy than we put in, has been tantalisingly elusive. 

Not any more, fusion start-ups say.

"This is the 'SpaceX moment' for fusion," says Christofer Mowry, chief executive of General Fusion, a Canadian company aiming to demonstrate fusion on a commercial scale within the next five years.

"It's the moment when the maturation of fusion science is combined with the emergence of 21st Century enabling technologies like additive manufacturing and high-temperature superconductors.

"Fusion is no longer '30 years away'," he maintains.

Plasma glow inside Tokamak Energy's latest nuclear fusion reactor

 The science behind the idea has been proven, says Wade Allison, emeritus professor of physics at Keble College, Oxford. The challenge is more practical.

"The timescale we can't be sure about, but the basic science is solved and the problems are technical ones to do with materials," says Prof Allison.

Why is it so difficult?

A major challenge is how to build a structure strong enough to contain the plasma - the very high-temperature nuclear soup in which the fusion reactions take place - under the huge pressures required.

Exhaust systems will "have to withstand levels of heat and power akin to those experienced by a spaceship re-entering orbit," says Prof Ian Chapman, chief executive of the UK Atomic Energy Authority (UKAEA),

Robotic maintenance systems will also be needed, as well as systems for breeding, recovering and storing the fuel. 

"UKAEA is looking into all these issues, and is building new research facilities at Culham Science Centre near Oxford to work with industry to develop solutions," says Prof Chapman.

So what's changed?

Some private energy firms reckon they are surmounting these practical challenges faster through the use of new materials and technologies.

Oxfordshire-based Tokamak Energy is working on spherical tokamaks or reactors that use high temperature superconductors (HTS) to contain the plasma in a very strong magnetic field.

Tokamak Energy is trying to build cheaper, more compact fusion reactors

"High temperature" in the context of this branch of physics means a distinctly chilly -70C or below.

"They've been by far the most successful to date," says Jonathan Carling, the firm's chief executive.

"A spherical tokamak is a much more efficient topography, and we can drastically improve the compactness and the efficiency. And because it's smaller, it can be more flexible, and the cost to build is also lower," he says.

The company has built three tokamaks so far, with the third, ST40, built from 30mm (1.2in) stainless steel and using HTS magnets. This June it achieved plasma temperatures of more than 15 million C - hotter than the core of the sun.

The firm hopes to be hitting 100 million C by next summer - a feat Chinese scientists claim to have achieved this month.

"We expect to have energy gain capability by 2022 and be supplying energy to the grid by 2030," says Mr Carling.

Meanwhile in the US, MIT [Massachusetts Institute of Technology] is working with the newly-formed Commonwealth Fusion Systems (CFS) to develop Sparc, a doughnut-shaped tokamak with magnetic fields holding the hot plasma in place.

Funded in part by Breakthrough Energy Ventures, a fund led by Bill Gates, Jeff Bezos, Michael Bloomberg and other billionaires, the team hopes to develop fusion reactors small enough to be built in factories and shipped for assembly on site.

These private ventures are challenging Iter [International Thermonuclear Experimental Reactor], the flagship international fusion project involving 35 countries.

The Iter nuclear fusion reactor will not be completed until 2025

Iter, which also means "the way" in Latin, is building the biggest experimental fusion facility in the world, but it doesn't expect to fire up until 2025, and any commercial application will come a long way after that.

"Different Iter members have different levels of urgency for using fusion as part of a clean energy future," a spokesman tells the BBC.

"Some clearly expect to have fusion electricity to the grid before 2050; for others the roadmap is in the second half of this century."

The new kids on the block think they can do better.

"With the new HTS magnet technology, a net-energy fusion device can be much, much smaller - Sparc would be about one sixty-fourth the volume and mass of Iter," says Martin Greenwald, deputy director of MIT's plasma science and fusion centre.

Smaller size means lower costs, leaving the fusion field open to "smaller, more agile organisations", says Mr Greenwald.

But all parties seem to agree that the work of Iter, Culham and the private sector is complementary.

"In the end, we all share the same dream of fusion-powered electricity as a core part of a clean energy future," says the Iter spokesman.