Abbey Road

You can't live where we do, in the Northwest Section of London, and not become fascinated with the cult that is the Beatles.  You can walk by Abbey Road Studios at any time, on any day, no matter the weather, and see people doing one of two things.  Either writing on the wall that surrounds it, which they repaint every three months, or waiting.  Waiting for traffic to clear so they can take their shot.  The money shot.  The same shot of the Beatles on the cover of the Abbey Road album, crossing the famous walk.

But that's as far as you can get, no piercing the black gates from the street to the inner sanctum that looks like a normal house on a normal street in a residential area.  But for the 80th anniversary of the studio they were letting in a lucky few, Willy Wonka-style.  But instead of chocolate I paid 75 quid for my golden ticket.

At 7:00 PM on a Friday the line stretched out past the gates but soon I was walking through the lobby filled with pictures of music history and into Studio 2 where I spent the next 90 minutes learning about the history of this place.  Even though they discuss the 30 years leading up to the Beatles, it is John/Paul/George and Ringo who made the space famous.  Lots of big time artists have worked there since EMI opened it in 1931.  But the surrounding area is suffused with Beatles.  It's not just the iconic street corner or the St John's Wood tube stop with the Beatles coffee shop, or the memorabilia store a mile up the road at Baker Street where you can buy Beatles cuff links.  The people who come to pay tribute to the band have a distinctly late 1960's feel.

The 50 or so people who joined me in Studio 2 are told that the Beatles were not welcomed inside at first either.  "The music was OK, but they won the hearts of the execs through their personalities."  They weren’t just fun, they were light, witty and smart.  Clever as the Brits say.  And you see it in the outtakes and studio shots of them enjoying the process. 

The studio itself is unremarkable.  There is very little to suggest the specialness of the place, it's just a big room and long beige draperies with stains of white paint from what looks like the work of a sloppy handyman.

We sit in red leather chairs, the same chairs you see in nearly every picture of the Beatles.  They were purchased in bulk because the previous chairs were wood and they squeaked, ruining many a take.  I sit in the corner, in the spot where Paul conceived and played Blackbird.  You see where Ringo sat, his cigarette stand brought in for the occasion.  And what you understand is that there is nothing in this room that gave inspiration, they brought it with them.  In this big old room they dragged their guitars into closets and storage rooms, hallways and backways, and even into the control room, testing every sound, every echo, every twist.

They were kids in their 20s and the sounds that are now iconic were just them trying to find something new.  You can sit and listen and hear them evolve into the performers they would become.  They were just friends trying to be creative together and it became magic.

The studio sits in the same spot where it was bought at the start of the century, in a place where neighbors still complain about the noise.  But EMI knew what they were doing, they wanted it far from the trains and noise of the city.

It was the last place Glenn Miller played before dying in a plane crash over the English Channel.  Amy Winehouse spent her last days here as well.  But it is Beatles' memories that bring people from all over the world.  It's why they stand outside and write and weep, fully iPod plugged in wondering how the magic was made, what went on inside.

And after spending an evening in that place I still wonder how they did it.  But I no longer wonder about the place.  Because I now know the magic came from inside those four boys, not these four walls.