"Left Behind" on "Abbey Road": 
Viewing the Apocalypse Through the Music of the Beatles

By Dr. Scott Robbins, chair of the Department of Music History, Theory, and Composition at Converse College

September 26, 2002 did not mark the end of the world.  What it was, however, was the 33rd anniversary of the release of "Abbey Road", perhaps the Beatles' finest album. As a composer and music theorist, I can think of many things that make the Beatles great (not that anyone needs convincing), and on this last album, they're in peak form. It's important to keep in mind that these are the last sounds the Beatles made together; this is the last thing they wanted to tell us. "Abbey Road" closes the "canon" of Beatledom, an idea which leads me to reflect upon its similarities to another influential "last installment," the Revelation of St. John.

And what do the Beatles's last album and the Bible's eschatological last book have in common? Well, both have been prey to narrow interpretations that can obscure their more true and lasting beauties. The currently popular Left Behind series exemplifies the way Revelation can be reduced to book of secret codes and riddles. Additionally, a trip to the Internet or late-night wacko radio will show how many people there are who have determined that the Pope or Bill Clinton or George Bush (either George Bush) is the Antichrist. One might argue that it detracts from the Good Book's greatness to get overly caught up in esoteric interpretations. While we're at it, one might argue also that it detracts from "Abbey Road"'s greatness to get caught up in hidden meanings, too.

And what hidden meaning might one discern from "Abbey Road"? Why, that Paul is dead, of course. The rumor surfaced in 1969, with Beatles illuminati pointing out how the group had been peppering their music and album covers with clues since at least 1967, and the touchstone of "Paul is dead" clues was the "Abbey Road" cover. Consider the roles represented by the four Beatles on the cover—Paul dressed as a corpse (smoking a cancer-stick, no less!), accompanied by angel John, minister Ringo, and gravedigger George. That, along with that VW bug's 28IF license plate (Paul's age, if he'd survived!) were deemed tantamount to a confession by those who imagined a cover-up. Ultimately, these people were seeing shapes in clouds. True, the Beatles were fabulous musicians, but one must ask, "Do I really think these guys knew enough about Scandanavian death-lore, etc. to encode all those subtle clues in their work?"

So, can I trust an "Abbey Road" that fails to deliver a dead Paul? More importantly, can I trust a Book of Revelation that refuses to sync up with the "Left Behind" series? Yes, if I resist the temptation to impose limiting, esoteric interpretations upon them.

Let's consider one thing true about both items: they deal not only with last things, they also show an intense concern with earlier things. Both are visionary, yet keenly aware of their past influences. "Abbey Road"'s first song ("Come Together") begins with the line, "Here come old flat-top." This phrase comes from Chuck Berry's "You Can't Catch Me," connecting the Beatles with their rock and roll roots. Of course, "Come Together" sounds nothing like Chuck Berry—the only way you get the allusion to early rock and roll is if you know "You Can't Catch Me." It's a similar case with Revelation's plentiful references to Old Testament passages—you only get them if you already know them.
There are other references to earlier music. Paul's Elvis-inspired vocals on "Oh! Darling" (not bad for a dead guy, huh?) and Ringo's do-wop influenced "Octopus's Garden" both give a good idea of how, at the end of their career, the Beatles were aware of their 1950s roots. For an even older reference, consider that Paul's source for "Golden Slumbers" is a poem by Shakespeare's contemporary, Thomas Dekker. 

"Abbey Road"'s greatest impact is the masterful cohesion of its B-side. Different terms have been applied to the seamless structure created by these last songs—suite, song cycle, medley, etc.—all of which call attention to the utterly satisfying and logical connection and flow that exists between these songs. If this were just an album side of unconnected songs, that would be plenty, but it's something much greater: it's an organic unity, a whole, a gestalt.

The albums' pioneering use of the synthesizer offered proof that the Beatles were still with it, and the grungy, hard rocking guitar solos of "The End" showed they had been listening to the Hendrixes and Claptons at the 60's end. They also testified that the boundaries of rock were stretched wider than at the beginning of the Beatles' stardom, thanks in great measure to the group's accomplishments. Rock music had several different directions to explore, and the world did not end with the break-up of the Beatles. Nor did it end with Y-2K. Nor September 11. Nor Jonestown, Heaven's Gate, or any other number of Chicken-Little doomsday predictions. 

What we're left with is this great album. Just as Revelation ultimately leaves us with a message of hope, "Abbey Road" imparts a similarly rosy message for the future of popular music, as well as for all four Beatles. John will draw closer to his rock and roll roots, Paul will persevere as a control freak (forming Wings, a band he really can force to do his bidding), George's future as a writer of decent songs seems secured at last, and Ringo will remain ever-loopy and ever-lovable. Both "Abbey Road" and Revelation let us know there is much to enjoy and much to look forward to—too much to let little things like album cover art or the failure of the Rapture to occur at 4:16 p.m. on March-the-whatever spoil their value. Let's remember that as we celebrate "Abbey Road"'s 33rd birthday.

(And Paul, if you're reading this, please drop us a note and let us know you're still alive.)