That’s, what I want…


Commisioned by the Las Vegas “entertainment empire” Cirque du Soleil, Sir George Martin and his son have been busy mixing a “new” Beatles album at Shabby Road studios.

Mark Espiner in The Guardian thinks it will be a stain on their legacy :

Las Vegas is the whorehouse of theatre and music. Few performers go there other than to make shedloads of cash, often by exploiting themselves. John Lennon knew that. He might have recognised Elvis as the king of rock’n’roll, but he sure wasn’t going to follow him to sin city to play his greatest hits. That, he said, would be “going to hell”.

I have to admit that I am no great fan of the Beatles, much preferring Raymond Douglas Davies for any Gallagher-style “sixties moments” which manage to pierce the hard-headed musical conciousness which I have managed to develop over decades of listening to Joy Division whilst reading Bukowski (I’m joking.) But a few of their albums have found their way into my collection over the years (and occasionally “Revolver” even gets played.) However, after that “singles album” and “Let it be-naked,” it’s hard to say that Espiner doesn’t have a point and that money is being squeezed out of a corpse.

Whatever next? “London Calling” on ice?

So were the Rutles right when they sang “all you need is cash?” Or does this kind of thing really matter at all in the great scheme of things?