1968: 50 Years Later, Life Goes On, Ob-la-di, ob-la-da

You say you want a revolution

Well, you know

We all want to change the world

You tell me that it's evolution

Well, you know

We all want to change the world

But when you talk about destruction

Don't you know that you can count me out

Don't you know it's gonna be 

All right, all right, all right

On November 22, 1968, John, Paul, George, and Ringo released a special record named simply, The Beatles, an epic two-disc collection that would eventually come to be known as the White Album, so dubbed for its plain, nondescript white covering.

The albums, a direct follow to the band's Sgt. Pepper Lonely Hearts Club Band blockbuster, would, over the next half century, be deemed by many as one of the greatest albums of all time.

The album is being re-released today, November 9, nearly 50 years later, featuring, in addition to the original material, 27 early acoustic demos and 50 session takes for the true Beatles aficionado, of which my brother Jimmy is certainly one. (Can't confirm whether or not he's working today or if he's driving the backroads of New England blaring the Beatles music orgy at ear-bleeding levels.)

But Jimmy isn't the only one who hails from the Mill City and worships at the rock-and-roll altar of the Fab Four.

Last night, more than 50 people filled seats at Lowell Telecommunications Corporation's common area on Market Street in Lowell to hear from a Fab Five - and even more - as they recounted their memories of 1968 - the Year that Shaped a Nation.  One of them even came armed with his original, 1968 purchase of said album.

The team of University of Massachusetts educators, both past and present, each weighed in with their recollections of 1968, not just from the perspective of the Fab Four's music, but encompassed the upheaval in world experiences, including the assassinations of prominent leaders, the sudden deaths of music icons, and a war on the other side of the world that claimed the lives of some of one presenter's closest friends.
All of it set to a backdrop of music indelibly emblazoned on our collective consciousness.
1968
When a tattooed Goldie Hawn danced across TV sets in Laugh-In, some guy named Tiny Tim tiptoed through some tulips.

The Rolling Stones introduced the world to one of my personal favorite music heroes, a Street Fighting Man.
Ev'rywhere I hear the sound
Of marching charging feet, boy
'Cause summer's here and the time is right
For fighting in the street, boy

A nation turned its lonely eyes to an infamous Graduate.
And on the other side of the world, during the Tet Offensive in Saigon, a police chief fired a bullet through a Viet Cong's skull and the Vietnam discourse took an irrevocable turn.

Full-on confession time - I was but a lad of 4 for that annus mirabilis.  But it was indeed, for me, the year I discovered music - the Beatles, naturally - and also started both reading and collecting comic books.  So yeah, a landmark year in the Cook household as well.
I was joined at last night's event by my fellow Middlesex hippie, Donna Corbin.  We were also joined by a certain Blue Meanie, who wanted to stamp out all the joy in the room.  His efforts fell woefully short.

The majority of the White Album was recorded at the Abbey Road Studios (see any of my previous blog posts about the Cook family's springtime London adventures for more on that historic address).
The foursome had just returned from a Transcendental Meditation course in India and they were entering a transitional phase both in their own personal lives, and the band's musical identity as a whole.
During some of the recordings, some of the splitting seams in the group's fabric began to show, many of them revolving around the inclusion of John's new partner, Yoko, who became an audience for some of the recording sessions - a no-no among the Beatles' recording rules.
During the rest of the year producer George Martin would take a leave of absence, Ringo would even leave the band for a brief stint, and the musical voice of the band began its most dramatic evolution.
All of it was quite a bit Helter Skelter, don't you know.  But what you might NOT know, but now would, thanks to England transplant and 1968 presenter Dr. John Wooding, is that the Helter Skelter was actually a children's spiral slide in England.

When I get to the bottom I go back to the top of the slide

Where I stop and I turn and I go for a ride

Till I get to the bottom and I see you again

Sadly, in America, the song was hijacked by a serial killer, who branded it with a much darker, negative tone with the Manson family murders.

The White Album is loaded with dozens of other memorable cuts, including one of George's most powerful and unforgettable ballads, bolstered by Eric Clapton.

I look at the world and I notice it's turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning
Still my guitar gently weeps.

Lowell's Poet Laureate, Paul Marion did a nice job at the LTC event of not just channeling the Beatles zeitgeist, but painting a vivid picture of what things looked like here on the Lowell landscape in 1968, where double five-and-dime storefronts anchored a bustling downtown, and groups like the Doors and Kinks were making music at the Commodore Ballroom.

Me, I made sure to dress right for the occasion, donning my official Yellow Submarine Happy Socks.

Thank you to all the presenters, and to LTC for pulling the night together for local fans.  It was a great opportunity to put aside the background noise of 2018's life unfolding at breakneck speeds on social media sites of the world, and just hearken back to a different era.  Not a simpler one, not a less tumultuous one.  But one that stabbed a pin on the map of our generation's music and societal change, and truly, changed the course of history.

50 years later, and life goes on.

Obladi oblada life goes on brahhh

Lala how the life goes on

Obladi Oblada life goes on brahhh

Lala how the life goes on