The other day I was reading my favorite magazine, Mojo, the British music monthly. They celebrated the fortieth anniversary of the Beatles album, Abbey Road, with an interview with Paul McCartney about the making of the record. The original name for the album was Everest. McCartney speaks of how the lads from Liverpool got so far as to actually discuss photo shoots for the cover at the Himalayas.
How bizarre must that conversation have been? I suppose no more bizarre then any conversation between four stoners in their twenties. Except they had the resources to actually follow through with any of their whims.
“Good show, John, you really belted out that take of Oh, Darling.”
“Thanks Ringo. So what should we call this record?”
“We can’t be lazy like last time and just call it the Beatles. Then the people come up with their own name. White Album… rubbish. They should be calling it The Beatles.”
“How about we call it, Everest?”
“Bloody hell, that’s a good one. Like the mountain.”
“We can go there. We’ll get our pictures taken at the highest place on Earth.”
“That’s deep. Once you’re at the highest point, there’s no where to go but down.”
“Yeah, pack your bags.”
They go outside when Ringo realizes, “That’s far away, isn’t it?”
“Why don’t we take the picture right here outside the studio?”
“We can just call the record Abbey Road.”
“Because it’s not about any other place, but where you’re at.”
“Alright lads, enough’s enough. Who stole my shoes?”