AtSwimTwoBirds

Musically contain by the precedence of lyrics wherever the opposite isn't the case. It's no "Blonde on Blonde", for certain.

Given the success of the band as a whole, it's fair to say that more often than not, the entirety of its body of work is elevated to a standing seen only in the light of the Beatles oeuvre at its occasional heights. This album is an example of the danger of that tendency, as its charm fairs better apart from its place in the repertoire.

The history is beyond me, whether Martin used McCartney with exceptional care and knowledge of the other's strengths or vice versa, one of the two if not both made off with a harmonic fantasia of concept, melodic phrase and just the right balance favoring cheer over pathos with its abrupt left turn in the penultimate track. It was the shiny, brand-name guarantee of quality jingles begging to be adored at first, abused at length, and forgotten at last. The Beatles outfit at its best.

The lesser of the bounding musical leaps. Tame respectively, it holds its own besides "Bitches Brew" being in its natural textured overtly ornamented most tastefully. But the details, however synchronisticly and sonicly effective, polished and pristine in their jazz rooted spontaneity, having every claim to excellence, achieve everything but the miraculous ease with which its successor flaunts.