Sunday, August 22, 2010

The Beatles are not the greatest rock band of all time.

Most people who say The Beatles were great haven't heard enough of their music to make that judgment. Maybe they read it in Rolling Stone, or saw a VH1 documentary, or heard their friends saying it because they'd read it in Rolling Stone. The only necessary adjunct to popularity is stupidity, because it spreads so easily. One hears, and repeats; the next hears, and repeats; and on and on until everyone accepts the general opinion by default. The idea that The Beatles were the greatest band of all time probably started with a record exec who wanted to boost sales. Sales were boosted, and the monetary returns were all that was needed to immortalize the Fab Four forever.

As songwriters, collectively and individually, they were brilliant. I want to be sure I'm not mistaken here: The Beatles were musical geniuses, and just as they shouldn't be overrated, neither should they be underrated. Their influence was enormous, their innovation aurally thrilling, and their appeal nearly universal. But does that mean they were the greatest? To be great a thing does not necessarily have to be popular. In fact, popularity often signifies something less than greatness. Greatness is a property, not bestowed, but inherent. Mozart is not great because everyone says he is, but because there is an intrinsic element to his music that differentiates it both technically and spiritually from the majority of other compositions.

If you ask the average English-speaking person who knows anything at all, they will probably tell you Shakespeare is the greatest writer of all time. Doubtless he was a master craftsman of the language. And yet, "all time" is a fairly extensive competition bracket. It would be easier to defend the claim with certain parameters, like "greatest writer in English" or "greatest playwright." Was he better than Homer? Than Dante? Better, even, than The Preacher of Ecclesiastes? The rank of greatest in any field is a delicate and often difficult award to bestow.

To call The Beatles the greatest rock band of all time is better than simply calling them the greatest musicians of all time. At least it makes room for the prior centuries' worth of musical endeavor. But it still seems like a stretch, especially since they occupy no remarkable position (other than skill and popularity)—they weren't the first rock band, not the first to use electric guitars or distortion, not the first group to use drugs to stimulate the creative process. So why have they gained such incredible stature among a receptive if ignorant public?

Probably many reasons could be given, but there are two that seem overwhelmingly obvious. The first is that two of the members died violent deaths simply for being part of an illustrious musical ensemble. John Lennon and George Harrison (arguably the most musically gifted of the four) were shot and stabbed respectively because they were Beatles. Would MLK, Jr. be as revered today if he was still alive? Doubtless he'd be a favorite son for his important work, but martyrdom seals the deal when it comes to immortality. Two martyred members of one band already highly prized can only exacerbate the tendency toward overindulgence.

The other reason is even more compelling. The Beatles gained prominence in the 1960s, an era with its own turmoils certainly, but not, perhaps, more than any other era. What the '60s have become in popular memory, however, transcends the mere legendary and takes on an epoch-marking monolithic importance. Most of what transpired in that decade had been generating for a long time and only then found practical expression, but because people hold on to substantial elements and discard all abstract aspects, however important, the '60s themselves became the important time.

The Beatles represented the so-called revolutionary aspect of the times. They embraced many of the key hippy ideals (though to call them hippies is perhaps a misnomer), like love (free or otherwise), Eastern religion, political disentanglement through social action, drugs, and rock music. Music is possibly the most visceral art form, and therefore the easiest for people to "get" and to be influenced by. Even if they didn't listen to The Beatles themselves, people of that generation heard about them, and most of them will claim to have been fans back then, hoping for the now-compulsory accolades such an assertion demands. Struggle against authority and the hope for social correction associated with the '60s, and by default with The Beatles, is the mood of the moment which everyone wants to identify, or at least be identified, with.

It's sad that so much art is valued not for its intrinsic value, but for the popularity or perceived importance attributed to it—both poor gauges of true merit. When judged objectively The Beatles are of course in the front rank of 20th century musical artists. But such an admission does not justify ascribing the moniker "greatest." The ideals of rock'n'roll are not simply the ideals of the 1960s; to equate the two is a mistake at best.

And if you're wondering, The Rolling Stones are the greatest rock band of all time.

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