As of this writing, the Beatles’ “Revolution 9″ has more than 13,800,000 plays on Spotify. This has no doubt generated decent revenue, even given the platform’s oft-lamented payout rates. But compare that number to the more than half-a-billion streams of “Blackbird,” also on the Beatles’ self-titled 1968 “white album,” and you get an idea of “Revolution 9”’s place in the band’s oeuvre. Simply put, even ultra-hard-core Fab Four fans tend to skip it. Regardless, as Ian MacDonald writes in Revolution in the Head: The Beatles’ Records and the Sixties, “this eight-minute exercise in aural free association is the world’s most widely distributed avant-garde artifact.”
Masterminded by John Lennon, “Revolution 9” is not exactly a song, but rather an elaborate “sound collage,” assembled in broad adherence to an aesthetic developed by such avant-garde creators as William S. Burroughs, The Beatles’ graphic designer Richard Hamilton, John Cage, and Karlheinz Stockhausen. “While the cut-up texts of Burroughs, the collages of Hamilton, and the musique concrète experiments of Cage and Stockhausen have remained the preserve of the modernist intelligentsia,” writes MacDonald, “Lennon’s sortie into sonic chance was packaged for a mainstream audience which had never heard of its progenitors, let alone been confronted by their work.”
In the new Polyphonic video above, Noah Lefevre takes a dive into those progenitors and their work, providing the context to understand how “the Beatles’ weirdest song” came together. Points of interest on this cultural-historical journey include composer Pierre Schaeffer’s resistance-headquarters-turned-experimental-music-lab Studio d’Essai; Nazi Germany, where the early Magnetophon tape recorder was developed; the BBC Radiophonic Workshop; avant-garde rocker Frank Zappa’s Studio Z; and the Million Volt Light and Sound Rave, a 1967 happening that hosted “Carnival of Light,” a Beatles composition never heard again since.
What did Lennon, in collaboration with George Harrison and Yoko Ono (with whom he’d only just got together), think he was doing with “Revolution 9”? “To the extent that Lennon conceptualized the piece at all, it is likely to have been as a sensory attack on the citadel of the intellect,” writes MacDonald, “a revolution in the head aimed, as he stressed at the time, at each individual listener — and not a Maoist incitement to social confrontation, still less a call for general anarchy.” Indeed, as Lefevre points out, it expressed his ambivalence about the very concept of 1968-style revolt as much as the comparatively conventional “Revolution 1,” which comes earlier on the album. The sixties may be long over, but Lennon’s attitude hasn’t lost its relevance: we still hear an endless stream of promised solutions to society’s problems, and we’d still all love to see the plan.
Related content:
How the Beatles Experimented with Indian Music & Pioneered a New Rock and Roll Sound
The Beatles’ 8 Pioneering Innovations: A Video Essay Exploring How the Fab Four Changed Pop Music
Hear Paul McCartney’s Experimental Christmas Mixtape: A Rare & Forgotten Recording from 1965
The 10-Minute, Never-Released, Experimental Demo of The Beatles’ “Revolution” (1968)
How George Martin Defined the Sound of the Beatles: From String Quartets to Backwards Guitar Solos
Based in Seoul, Colin Marshall writes and broadcasts on cities, language, and culture. His projects include the Substack newsletter Books on Cities and the book The Stateless City: a Walk through 21st-Century Los Angeles. Follow him on the social network formerly known as Twitter at @colinmarshall.
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