The Beatles albums that The Beatles hated

Narrowing down The Beatles’ back catalogue to songs they merely loved or hated is a reductive way to understand their genius. Throughout their innovative careers, they explored every shade between those extremes, with each record carrying nuanced feelings that go far beyond a simple good-or-bad dichotomy.

But in the peaceful present day, where the Liverpudlians’ place in the canon is firmly cemented, it’s easy to forget the complex and somewhat fraught storylines that existed in the background of their recordings. From dewy-eyed princes of pop to psychedelic cavaliers, they had to navigate the pressure of music megastardom along with the changing political times of the 1960s.

Through this, the primary songwriting partnership of John Lennon and Paul McCartney began to split at the seams, while creative outlier George Harrison grew frustrated with his songwriting contributions. In the backdrop were turbulent personal relationships, active engagements with political activism and the continued probing of the music’s industry bureaucracy.  

While many of us unwaveringly adore every record the four-piece released, within their own experiences, some of the songs simply act as a harsh soundtrack to memories best left unlocked. While the songs themselves tell the story of their musical genius, allow the tales they share of their personal preference to inform you of the conflict that grew in the shadows of the studio.

John Lennon – Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club

In 1967, The Beatles were a band experimenting with the world of technicolour. The albums that came in the two previous years, Rubber Soul and Revolver, showcased a band toying with the lyrical and sonic abstract, moving away from their position as princes of mop-topped-pop. Their subsequent album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was released and to many, still marks their finest accomplishment.

Pushing the envelope of studio production while weaving a complex tapestry of abstract storytelling, it crystallised the execution of their kaleidoscopic idea set. And for an ever-intriguing John Lennon, whose acclaim lived somewhere between the cracks of the universal and irreverent, you’d be forgiven for thinking the album holds a special place in his heart.

But as the fractious crack between Lennon and McCartney grew, this album developed into its soundtrack. While it was the entire band stood defiantly at the front of the album’s famous artwork, the inner workings of the record was largely McCartney’s baby and in many ways, the band followed his lead as they dipped their toes into the world of psychedelia.

When asked about his favourite Beatles record by David Sheff, Lennon used Sgt. Pepper as a sort of antonym to describe his love for The White Album. “[Paul] wanted it to be more a group thing, which really means more Paul. So, he never liked that album. It’s a record that is full of hits, from ‘Back in the USSR’ to ‘Blackbird’ to ‘Helter Skelter’ and beyond, it’s an undeniable powerhouse of an album.”

He continued with a swipe at Paul’s favourite Beatles record Sgt. Pepper: “I always preferred it to all the other albums, including Pepper, because I thought the music was better. The Pepper myth is bigger, but the music on the White Album is far superior, I think.”

John Lennon - 1970s
Credit: John Lennon

Paul McCartney – Let It Be

Given the sort of songwriting divorce that was taking place during the late 1960s, it’s fitting that McCartney’s least favourite record boils down to the contribution of one of Lennon’s creative companions.

During the recording of the band’s final album Let It Be Lennon introduced infamous producer Phil Spector into the fold. While Lennon and Spector’s individual songwriting partnership was yet to establish itself, the dynamics of their future relationship were forging on top of Beatles track, much to McCartney’s dismay.

On a particular McCartney track, ‘Long and Winding Road’ Spector and Lennon repurposed the production of it, turning it from a humble piano ballad to a flurry of orchestral production and backing vocals that to McCartney’s ear, muddled the narrative sentiment of the track.

“The album was finished a year ago, but a few months ago, American record producer Phil Spector was called in by John Lennon to tidy up some of the tracks. But a few weeks ago, I was sent a re-mixed version of my song ‘The Long And Winding Road’, with harps, horns, an orchestra and women’s choir added,” he told the Evening Standard in 1970.

“No one had asked me what I thought. I couldn’t believe it,” continued McCartney. “I would never have female voices on a Beatles record. The record came with a note from Allen Klein saying he thought the changes were necessary. I don’t blame Phil Spector for doing it but it just goes to show that it’s no good me sitting here thinking I’m in control because obviously, I’m not. Anyway, I’ve sent Klein a letter asking for some of the things to be altered, but I haven’t received an answer yet.”

While the rest of the record showcases some of McCartney’s finest songwriting moments—‘Let It Be’ and ‘Get Back’—it was a work marred by dispute. The deceit McCartney felt in the production process of one of his tracks was symptomatic of the changing times of the band’s dynamics and ultimately lives sorely in his memory.

Paul McCartney - Musician - The Beatles - Wings - 1970s
Credit: Far Out / Alamy

George Harrison – Yellow Submarine

Harrison’s contribution to the band has always been a source of intrigue. Slipping between the shadows of Lennon and McCartney, he developed an exquisite knack for portraying the peculiar. As the band’s palette developed into a more experimental landscape with Revolver and Abbey Road, Harrison’s songwriting role became a key element.

While he’s often been regarded as somewhat of an irreverent black sheep, Harrison’s creativity wasn’t entirely rooted in the obscure. He had a keen understanding of the necessity of ground production being coherent regardless of its innovation. 

When they were riding the wave of psychedelic success from Sgt. Pepper and Magical Mystery Tour, the bureaucratic powers that controlled the distribution, seemingly mistook the band’s artistic freedom as a means of exploitation and muddled with the tracklisting of their 1969 album Yellow Submarine.

“There were albums which weren’t any good as far as I was concerned, like Yellow Submarine,” Harrison said in a 1977 interview. “We put all the songs together into an album form — I’m talking about the English albums now, because the States we found later that for every two albums we had, they’d made three because we put fourteen tracks on an album, and we’d also have singles that weren’t included on albums in those days. They’d put the singles — take off a bunch of tracks, change all the running order and then they’d make new packages like ‘Yesterday’ and ‘Today’, just awful packages.”

George Harrison - 1970
Credit: Far Out / Tidal

Ringo Starr – Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club

Amidst Sgt. Pepper’s textural nuance, much of the critical acclaim, is directed towards the record’s melodic profile. A lavish complex record that showcased compelling lyricism and instrumental experimentation, it gave way to a limitless environment where the most irreverent of ideas could be fashioned into a song.

But ultimately, to make such a record the masterpiece it is, something has to keep it sonically grounded. Rather unsurprisingly, that’s a role bestowed to the rhythm section. But with their bass player leading the experimental charge and thrusting the band further into the depths of the abstract, it was left to Ringo Starr to keep time and glue the songs together.

“I never really liked Sgt. Pepper,” he told Elliott Mintz in an interview. “I mean, I think it’s a fine album. All the work we do is fine. But I think I felt like a session man on it. We put so much on it—strings and brass—and you’d sit ’round the studio for days, you know, while they’re overdubbing other things”.

But in keeping with the overall narrative of Starr’s contribution to the band’s greatness, that’s a somewhat reductive take on his performance. He anchors the sonic transition between verse and chorus in ‘Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds’ and provides crucial cymbal tones to the heady climax ‘A Day In The Life’.

Ringo Starr - Drummer - Singer - 1970s
Credit: Far Out / Alamy
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