A day at Abbey Road Studios
There is no happy ending to this story. Not many years from now — five? one? — the world will be reduced to an uninhabitable state in which no Beatles are alive.
Nor will this essay meet the dictates of feel-good pop psychology, wherein my visit to Abbey Road Studios in London this summer neatly caps, and thereby helps me to turn the corner on, my Fab obsession. Pilgrimage to Mecca did not free me of the quasi-religious fervor that seized me at seven and has led me to accumulate vast archives capturing virtually every sonic blip they ever recorded, released or unreleased, and virtually every published interview they ever gave. I remain pathetically in the grips of Beatlemania.