The Beatles
– Let It Be
Let It Be feels like a band reluctantly closing a chapter with half-smiles and sore throats. Not quite a farewell letter, not exactly a love note—it’s more like a blurry snapshot taken just before the lights go out. After the studio wizardry of Sgt. Pepper and the sprawl of The White Album, this one comes off looser, even casual. Sometimes ragged. But it’s the kind of ragged that comes after years of knowing exactly how to fit together, even as you’re falling apart.
There’s tension in the mix—not always musical. You can hear it in the half-finished edges, the resigned charm of some takes, the moments when McCartney’s optimism runs headlong into Lennon’s slow fade. George Harrison is stepping up, finding his own lane, while Ringo, steady as always, plays like the guy keeping the whole tent from collapsing. Phil Spector’s production slathers on the strings and choirs a little thick in places, but even that syrup can’t hide the wear-and-tear underneath.
And yet, Let It Be has heart. Maybe more than anything else they released. Because it doesn’t try to convince you it’s perfect. It’s a band drifting apart but still managing to sound, at times, like they remembered why they started playing in the first place. It’s a church basement rehearsal that occasionally strikes gold. A group of legends doing something incredibly human: trying to finish the thing, even if it hurts.
Choice Tracks
Let It Be
McCartney’s gospel lullaby. It’s the sound of surrender wrapped in warmth. Simple chords, a hymn-like progression, and that solo—clean, piercing, soulful. He’s not preaching. He’s reassuring himself. And us.
Across the Universe
Lennon, lost in thought, drifting beyond words. The lyrics are equal parts poetry and self-hypnosis, and the melody floats like it was beamed in from a half-remembered dream. Even under Spector’s lush glaze, it remains weightless.
Two of Us
Paul and John, cheek to cheek, smiling through gritted teeth. It’s a song about friendship and escape, but underneath it all is the ache of two guys realizing the road’s run out. Sweet, nostalgic, and a little bit heartbreaking.
I’ve Got a Feeling
This one punches. Paul’s rock growl meshes with Lennon’s stoned blues, each voice sounding like they’re working out different kinds of pain. The song pulls in opposite directions and somehow still kicks.
Get Back
Rough, raw, and loose in the best way. It’s The Beatles as a bar band—tight groove, sharp wit, and McCartney leading with a wink and a snarl. No pretense, just play.
Let It Be isn’t a clean goodbye. It’s a weathered postcard from the edge of something great that’s already fading. But in the cracks and clutter, there’s still brilliance—just four guys, trying to make it make sense one last time.