Beep-beep'm-beep-beep, yeah

Writing about the Beatles anymore—that is, for the last few decades—feels a bit like enthusing to someone about, say, a gorgeous sunset. Everybody’s seen one, in just abut every medium, and no one “needs” to see another, let alone have one breathlessly described to them, and yet the transcendent, nameless joy and awe that a sunset might spark can feel as fresh and renewable as a surprising cool breeze—which everyone in history as also felt, and yet which can feel like a gift that, unbidden and c...