Once there was a way to get back homeward

After last night's brief brush with unsavoriness (if that's not a word, it should be), it's time to revisit beauty, significance and High Art.

I am always one for a good debate on the best album ever made, and my choice changes from week-to-week, or even day-to-day. The choice always rotates around a core group, and last month it was "Exile on Main Street" Next month it might be "Born to Run" or "Moondance" or "Every Picture Tells a Story." Or one of another half dozen or so.

Back when albums and music were better, they were sequenced into sides: Sides A and B, or 1 and 2. "Darkness on the Edge of Town" was (and is) more powerful because the defiance of the music was bolstered by the hope against hope contained on the four corners of the album. The opening and closing song of each side were infused with the mantra of  "I'm not going to give up no matter how tough and ugly things get."

This also forced you to be an active listener; you had to physically get up and turn the record (or tape) over.

And no record ever rewarded a listener more for going to side 2 than "Abbey Road," which contains the single greatest album side in the history of music. Now, the whole thing is spectacular, and easily is part of the greatest album discussion.

But side 2 is positively epochal, a suite of songs so stunning, that fit together so well, that it towers above the rest of everything is the history of rock music.

In fact, here is my claim: The side 2 song suite represents the Greatest Artistic Achievement of the 20th century. I am talking art, music, film, literature. Everything.

It starts with "Here Comes the Sun," which sends shivers down your spine, and then things only get better. One freaking climactic moment after another, highlighted by a medley that contains so much brilliance that it seems unfair to put it all on one album. Paul McCartney does his best work here, but Lennon and Harrison also shine, and Ringo's drum solo says "hey, don't forget about me, either."

Layered voices, astonishing hooks, dreamy mood pieces, balls-out rock and roll, and sonic heights galore, and it all adds up to a work that makes you proud to be a human being. Listen to the remastered version on headphones -- nothing recorded since sounds better.

Also significant is that this project was the last recorded work by the group. Talk about going out on top. If hipster revisionist history throws a claim of overrated at The Beatles, this record alone will refute it. After listening closely, if anyone still makes that claim, you can't trust their judgement. About anything.

"Abbey Road," particularly the final 22 minutes, sets a standard that most likely will never be equaled.

Wake up, I think I got something to say to you

For about a hundred years, I considered "Maggie May" to be a guilty pleasure. Its ubiquitousness on the radio, in malls, drugstores and elevators immediately places it into a category that said: "For the love of God, if I hear this once more, I will scream, loudly."

But I recently had a revelation: Every time I hear this song, I stop and listen. And it always is welcome.

Every single time.

So, I've decided that it's more than a guilty pleasure -- it's one of my favorite songs. And I have not heard a version that I don't like, and I am especially fond of the "Every Picture Tells a Story" one with the classical intro, and the Faces BBC live version from their box set. I wanted to link that one here, but the homemade accompanying video is full of nudity, and to say it's ridiculous is an understatement. But the performance is rawer, more immediate, and feels a tad more alive than the 45 that everyone, and I mean everyone, is familiar with.

So, below are the Faces hamming it up to a recorded track with a live Stewart vocal. Take special notice of legendary British disc jockey John Peel pretending to play the mandolin, along with the other pretenders. An impromptu soccer match breaks out near the end, and earlier Woody and Ronnie Lane are seen running back onto the stage, after undoubtedly stepping off to chase a bird just before the guitar break.

But you know what? It's still great.

Like I said, every single time.