Strawberry fields? More like economic ruin and never-ending piles of debt
The Beatles are, of course, a very very famous band from Liverpool. Formed in 1960, they arrived on the scene just in time for an entire swinging decade of profuse drug-taking, furious amounts of shagging and a general thirst for rebellion. With this in mind, is it really any wonder that all three topics feature liberally in their discography?
From the mind-altering ‘Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds’ to the group’s recurrent fixation with walruses, much of the band’s draw in the early years came from their floppy bowl cuts, playfully psychedelic rock ‘n’ roll and a general air youthful rebellion. Which begs the question – what would The Beatles be like if they had formed in 2018?
Lots of people have been amusing themselves this rainy afternoon, reimagining The Beatles song titles fit for a band of plucky millennial newcomers. Trading in psychedelic strawberry fields and carefree hedonism for well-crafted ditties about paying off your student loan, here comes the pun…
‘Sargent Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Swiping Right Endlessly on Tinder and Eventually Giving Up On Love Altogether Club Band’
At the moment everybody’s talking about this thing called “cuffing season”. The general premise is this: because it’s dark, cold and miserable at the moment – and will be for the foreseeable future – nobody can be arsed with playing the field anymore. Everybody just wants to settle down, open a joint Deliveroo account, and be done with dating. And that is what this song would be all about, had The Beatles formed in the present day.
Cosying up under several duvets and watching Netflix with a brand new perma-bae sounds like a better club to be in, doesn’t it?. Finding love – how warm and fuzzy. Also, on a more practical level, millennials frankly have no other choice. Since it takes about one hundred years to save up for anything – wage growth in the UK remains below inflation – it’s now the perfect time to spend an entire night swiping on Tinder before immediately shacking up with a respectable man with well-kept facial hair called Dave. Perhaps he has a reasonably paid managerial role. And rich parents. Which leads us onto…
‘(I Get By) With a Little Help From my Parents’
“I gave up gong bath sessions and cancelled my coffee subscription for two whole months; I really scrimped in order to save for this cosy 2-bed flat in Dalston” says Olivia in the latest instalment of How The Fuck Did That Young Person Manage Buy A House In This Economic Climate?
Incidentally, Olivia’s parents still pay her rent. They also foot the bill for her monthly grocery deliveries from Ocado, and help her out when she’s spent all of her £30k wage packet on Jo Malone candles. Woopsy! This is something which Olivia forgets to mention until she’s asked about it directly in paragraph 17. Anyway, it’s the real reason she managed to afford a house, pals. A little help from your friends just won’t cut it anymore.
‘While My iPhone Gently Tweets’
Perhaps it’s a blessing that social media didn’t exist in the 60s. Nowadays, we regularly see huge megastars embarrassing themselves through drunken rants and poorly-judged comments online; being a mysterious rockstar is harder than ever.
Impressive as they are as a band, even The Beatles’ legacy might’ve been tarnished slightly by the potential pitfalls. Imagine, for example, the horror of Ringo Starr reciting ‘I Am A Walrus’ in its entirety on his Instagram story. It’s probably for the best.
‘We Can’t Work It Out’
A jangly number which strives towards sensible discussion and eventual agreement, an inherently hopeful creature like ‘We Can Work It Out’ just can’t flourish in the age of Brexit negotiations and impending doom. Yeah, it’s all very well lifting spirits with a chipper “try to see it my way”, lads, but when you’ve got Angela Merkel luring away all of our banks in one corner, and the Spanish government promising to immediately veto an already shitty Brexit proposal over there, it’s not looking very good, is it?! Why not change the title to ‘We Can’t Work It Out’ and dedicate it to Theresa May instead? In which case…
‘When I’m Sixty-Four’
The whole thing might eventually blow over. At that point, the retirement age will be probably be about 97. On one hand we’ll be forced to work until our zimmer frames are giving way, but at least we might be able to save up enough to put down a 5% deposit on a garden shed by then. Swings and roundabouts, hey?