Thankfully, my library card assists with a deeper dive of all the ridiculously priced legacy artist boxed sets of late. (Well, at least the non-Springsteen ones as my release day fanboy allowance takes major priority with The Boss.) Today’s streaming service options do help quench any initial ear-perk appetite. However, it’s sure nice to get a tangible grip on the elaborate extras and package and production included that tend to accompany these (bulky skyscraper paper weights that can leave one scratching how to handle and house).
A notable one is the The Beatles White Album - 50th Anniversary Super Deluxe Edition. I’ve never been quick to rub the coin audiophile (nor, film buff), but will say the 2018 version of the Fab Five’s double showcase of colorful kitchen sink song craft is something special. As if Mr. Martin needed help, I was surprised to hear his son’s precious cargo knob mix twiddles as actual upgrade to my good luck pluck of a used 30th Anniv. Edition CD back in college (I’m still cheap 20 years removed). It was an aha moment when Glass Onion kicked in. In addition to all the extra mixes and outtakes I’ve barely put a dent in, it’s the Esher Demos and their blue(white)prints that further help make the 50th Anniversary cake and eat it too. (What’s to come in future anniversary barrel scrapes - holographic Beatles performing in my Kansas City driveway?)
Speaking of savoy truffles, my main inspiration for this goulash of a cultural gush is discovering (tucked within a 50th Anniversary boxed set essay, among many) the unique collection of original White Album vinyl pressings amassed and still growing by artist Rutherford Chang. Beyond an odd fascination with personalized, distressed and deteriorated vinyl packaging (or, like how my parents’ generation personally autographed each vinyl in their collection), my so-called design wheelhouse never really pondered much prior the brilliance (?) of The Beatles’ choice of using nothing to cloak another masterpiece (as well as numbering each one). Minimalism and mystery is one thing, but was Beatles HQ officially too divided / checked-out / self-aware / oversaturated / bored / hip ... to really care what was there? I guess everyone had a less-is-more hunch it would sell with or without cover art. (This kind of brings to mind Radiohead’s game-changing “pay what you want” with 2007′s In Rainbows. I “bought” it digitally for nothing, then paid $10 for a CD at Target months later.)
Whatever the case (and evidence is likely in many a’ academic essay I’ve either yet to read nor fully interpret) this minimal design decision makes so much more sense now when I see the personalized imprint and timeline of each and every original owner, as well as their individually deteriorated five decade journey. It’s quite moving, and as timeless as The Beatles. The band revolutionized so much already, including the very idea of nothing becoming something. I guess the end question is this: Was this truly a stroke of brilliance in longevity for a band that was quickly to the next phase before one was planted ... or, simply an unforeseen happy accident? Either way, the results are stunning works of art. And clearly why Instagram is so valuable an artistic sharing tool. Imagine what John Lennon himself could’ve done with it?
Sound is one thing. However, things do often look better weathered (exception for disc scratches - an inevitable casualty with library media). Which, reminds me of the time a friend borrowed the aforementioned 30th Anniv. CD and accidentally cracked its plastic case ... going so far in guilt as to purchase a new copy and swap it out. I didn’t know this until years later.
