
A Day in the Life
Two unfinished songs bolted together, an orchestra climbing to nothing, and the last piano chord in pop.

Two unfinished songs bolted together, an orchestra climbing to nothing, and the last piano chord in pop.

Two takes in different keys and tempos spliced into one, a Mellotron haze over Lennon's Liverpool childhood.

Handclaps, that leaping chord under "I can't hide," and five weeks later America belonged to them.

Harrison wrote it in Clapton's garden while skipping a business meeting, and it sounds exactly like that relief.
Seven minutes, four of them just na-na-na, and somehow nobody has ever wanted it to end sooner.

McCartney dreamt the melody, called it "Scrambled Eggs" for weeks, then let a string quartet make it immortal.

Lennon's first draft listed bus stops in Liverpool; Martin's piano solo, taped at half speed, sounds baroque.

No Beatle plays an instrument on it; George Martin's string octet does everything, sawing away at two solitary lives.

McCartney dreamed of his mother Mary telling him it would be all right; Harrison cut two different solos.
Lennon and McCartney started it on a tour bus after a Newcastle show; Martin thought the sixth-chord ending corny.

Lennon started it as a campaign song for Timothy Leary, then Ringo muffled his drums with tea towels.
Harrison lifted the opening line from James Taylor and wrote the first Beatles A-side that wasn't Lennon or McCartney.

McCartney heard a piccolo trumpet on a Bach broadcast, called David Mason in, and pop had never sounded brighter.
Harrison opened a book at random, saw "gently weeps", and Clapton came in uncredited to play the solo.

Starr's slip of the tongue supplied the title, and the opening chord is still argued over by musicologists.

Harrison's sitar, widely reckoned the first on a rock record, and Lennon smuggling an affair past everyone.

Twelve takes in April 1965, McCartney's counter-melody chasing the lead, and Lennon insisting years later the plea was real.

Last song of a twelve-hour day, Lennon's throat gone, one usable take, and the Beatles' only million-selling cover.

Lennon stitched three unfinished songs together, then let a live BBC King Lear broadcast wander into the mix.

Cut at EMI in February 1965, with Harrison's Rickenbacker riff and a record Lennon later called the first heavy metal.
Beamed live to 400 million on the first global satellite link, opening on La Marseillaise, its coda quoting Bach.

Two point one million American advance orders, and behind them a Paris hotel upright where McCartney wrote it.

Starr sang it at dawn after ten takes, having first made them cut the line about thrown tomatoes.
Eighteen takes in one November session, a Lennon ballad sped up, and Martin calling their first number one.

Martin spliced McCartney's count-in from take nine onto take one, and rock and roll never had a better doorway.

Emerick taped the backing fast and slowed it on playback; Ringo called it the best record he ever made.