BEATLES. When I think of the Beatles or hear some of their old tunes I expect part of my pleasure is a kindly, cozy bias ... a trusty, safe connection as though we've survived some trauma together. Cozy but not fresh. Then Paul McCartney does something new like these lyrics from “The End of the End” –
On the day that I die
I’d like jokes to be told
And stories of old
To be rolled out like carpets
That children have played on
And laid on while listening
To stories of old.
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