I never really paid much attention to the Beatles. I’ve always been wary of a band – or anything really – loved by the masses. I cherish the marginal, the edgy, the weird stuff that I can’t really grasp at first, whose meaning escapes me.
When I heard I Want You (She’s So Heavy) for the first time, it finally clicked. Lennon says of this song he wrote for Ono “When it gets down to it, (…) when you’re drowning you don’t say ‘I would be incredibly pleased if someone would have the foresight to notice me drowning and come and help me,’ you just scream.”
The layers of sound are like waves crashing down on a body shouting for help, when its mouth grasp enough air, before being pushed again under the water. It’s massive, tough, and heavy.
And when this hypnotic repetition thrusts you into a state of trance, and your eyes are shut, and you’re silently begging for it to loop forever, it violently ends with nothing but silence.
Like any truly interesting songs, it has an odd little fact about it. When played on stereo, at 4:30, if you listen very closely to the left speaker, you’ll hear – after John’s scream – someone saying “What was that about?”.