REVEALED: Beatles' Last Studio Console Used on Abbey Road Album Set to Break Sales Records
Beatles News and Views - January 20th, 2025
Sam Mendes to direct groundbreaking four-film Beatles biopic series with each movie focusing on individual band members
Scientific study reveals 'A Day in the Life' officially crowned greatest Beatles song
Historic EMI recording console used on Abbey Road album restored and heading for sale
"Get your motor running, head out on the highway..." Oh sorry, wrong song entirely, but speaking of getting things running, the news that the legendary EMI TG12345 recording console used to create 'Abbey Road' has been lovingly restored after five years of painstaking work has set this old Beatles fan's heart racing faster than Ringo's drumming on 'Helter Skelter'.
As someone who spent the summer of '69 queueing outside HMV to get my mitts on 'Abbey Road' the moment it was released, the thought that the very desk that helped create that masterpiece could soon be available for purchase makes me feel quite peculiar. Although given the likely price tag, I suspect I'll have better luck convincing Paul McCartney to play at my local pub's next open mic night. Mind you, given his recent penchant for popping up in the most unexpected places - just last month he was spotted in a chip shop in Grimsby, apparently asking if they had any Quorn sausages - perhaps that's not entirely outside the realm of possibility.
The console, which former EMI engineer Dave Harries rather modestly describes as "unique" and "irreplaceable", has been restored using 70% original parts. The remaining 30% were faithfully reproduced, presumably with more attention to detail than Liam Gallagher applies to his Beatles karaoke sessions. One imagines the restoration team spent more time on this project than the Beatles spent recording 'Please Please Me' - their entire first album, which they famously knocked out in a single day. Different times, different standards, though I doubt even George Martin could have predicted that one day we'd be treating recording equipment with the same reverence as the Crown Jewels.
The technical specifications of this beast are enough to make any audio engineer weep with joy - or possibly just weep when they see the price tag. It's the sort of equipment that made 'Maxwell's Silver Hammer' sound like a masterpiece, rather than what it actually was - Paul McCartney's attempt to drive everyone else in the band completely round the twist. I was there when that album came out, and I can tell you, the sound quality was clearer than Yoko Ono's influence on the band's eventual split.
Speaking of splits and reconciliations, Sam Mendes (or Sir Sam as he'll probably be known by the time you read this) is set to direct not one, not two, not three, but FOUR Beatles biopics. Each film will focus on an individual member, which seems appropriate given how much time they spent trying to avoid each other in their later years. It's rather like making four separate films about a divorce - painful but potentially fascinating.
The casting suggestions are intriguing - Barry Keoghan as Ringo? Well, he certainly has the nose for it, though whether he can master that unique Scouse-meets-Thomas-the-Tank-Engine narrative style remains to be seen. Paul Mescal is apparently in talks to play McCartney, which makes sense given his talent for playing charming Irishmen - though he'll need to move his accent about 130 miles east and practice raising one eyebrow meaningfully at cameras. The role of John Lennon is possibly going to Harris Dickinson, who'll need to perfect that particular mix of wit and acerbic commentary that made Lennon as many enemies as friends. As for George Harrison, Charlie Rowe is in the frame - let's hope he's good at meditation and gardening.
The films are set to be released simultaneously in 2027, which seems ambitious. Then again, the Beatles recorded 'Sgt. Pepper' on four-track equipment, so anything's possible. Sony Pictures is backing the project, presumably having remortgaged several small countries to afford the music rights. It's the first time the Beatles' estate has allowed their original recordings to be used in a scripted project, which is rather like the Vatican deciding to let someone borrow the original Ten Commandments for a school play.
Meanwhile, in news that will surprise absolutely no one who's ever dropped the needle on Side B of 'Sgt. Pepper', 'A Day in the Life' has been officially crowned as the greatest Beatles song by science. Yes, SCIENCE. The same bunch who recently declared Toto's 'Africa' as the greatest song of all time. I haven't been this confused since I tried to decipher the backwards messages on 'Revolution 9'.
The study, compiled by 'Acclaimed Music', placed 'A Day in the Life' above 'Strawberry Fields Forever' and 'Hey Jude'. As someone who was there when it was banned by the BBC for apparently promoting drug use (unlike 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds' which was clearly about a girl called Lucy who was really into astronomy), I can confirm it's stood the test of time better than my original Beatles wig. The song's structure remains as revolutionary today as it was then - though try telling that to anyone who thinks musical innovation is adding an extra bass drop to a TikTok dance track.
The track, which John Lennon described as a "free-form musical orgasm" (steady on, John), somehow managed to turn newspaper stories about potholes in Lancashire and a Guinness heir's car accident into pop art. Though I suppose if anyone could make road maintenance sound psychedelic, it was the Beatles. The song's famous orchestral glissando - that's the bit where everything goes completely bonkers for those of you under 60 - still sounds like nothing else in popular music, except perhaps the inside of Keith Richards' head at breakfast time.
Comparing it to today's music is like comparing a Picasso to a passport photo. Taylor Swift might have sold 114 million albums, but the Beatles shifted 600 million when the world's population was barely a third of what it is now. That's the equivalent of everyone in Britain buying about 50 copies each, though I suspect my mum bought most of those herself. She still has them all too, carefully stored in a temperature-controlled room alongside her signed photo of George Harrison's left eyebrow.
Speaking of George, his favourite early Beatles songs have been revealed, including 'Every Little Thing' and 'This Boy'. As the 'quiet one' who had to fight tooth and nail to get 'Something' on an A-side (only to have Frank Sinatra later call it "the greatest love song of the last fifty years"), it's touching to hear him praise these early efforts. Though one suspects if you'd told the George of 1969 that he'd one day look back fondly on 'This Boy', he'd have probably gone off to meditate for another decade.
The revelation comes from Peter Jackson's 'Get Back' documentary, which managed to make eight hours of watching four blokes in a room somehow compelling viewing. It's rather heartwarming to see Harrison, who'd recently walked out on the band, jamming along to these early numbers with McCartney. It's the musical equivalent of looking through old wedding photos after a divorce and actually smiling.
'Something' itself represents a fascinating turning point in the band's dynamics. When George finally got it released as an A-side, it marked the moment when Lennon and McCartney could no longer maintain their songwriting duopoly. It's rather like when your younger sibling suddenly becomes taller than you - simultaneously proud and slightly miffed. The song went on to become one of their most covered tracks, though I'm still waiting for someone to explain to me what exactly does move "like a cauliflower" - George's original simile before he landed on "flows like a river."
Of course, all this pales in comparison to the earth-shattering news that William Florian is returning to the Higley Center for a Beatles sing-along. I mean, who needs a £10 million recording console when you can watch a former member of the New Christy Minstrels murder 'Yesterday'? Though I suppose that's the thing about Beatles music - even when it's bad, it's still better than most things. Just don't tell William I said that.
The sing-along aspect is particularly amusing - imagine trying to hit those high notes in 'A Day in the Life' after a few pints. It'll sound less like the greatest song ever recorded and more like a cat caught in a mangle. Still, that's the beauty of Beatles music - it belongs to everyone now, even those who think 'Hey Jude' is a bit short and could do with a few more 'na na nas' at the end.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to check my pension pot to see if I can afford a bid on that console. I mean, who needs retirement when you can own the desk that recorded 'Here Comes The Sun'? Though knowing my luck, I'll end up with the one they used to record 'Wild Honey Pie'. At least then I'll have something in common with the Beatles - we'll both know what it feels like to make a terrible investment decision. Though I doubt mine will end up in a museum someday, unless they open one dedicated to financial misadventures in the name of fandom.
And speaking of museums, that's probably where this console belongs, rather than in some billionaire's private collection next to Elvis's toenail clippings and Madonna's cone bra. But in a world where people pay millions for JPEGs of bored apes, perhaps owning a piece of genuine music history isn't such a bad investment after all. Now, where did I put that lottery ticket?