Here’s a story my father likes to tell:

It’s 1967 in Jackson, Mississippi and he’s 18 years old, riding in the car with my grandfather. For several years the two have had a recurring argument about rock ‘n’ roll, specifically the Beatles. My dad thinks their music is revolutionary while my grandfather says the Fab Four make nothing but noise. Instead, he favors big band music and songs by Irving Berlin.

The car’s radio is tuned “to some Lawrence Welk-type station,” as my dad remembers it, which is playing an upbeat, piano-based instrumental song full of soaring horns and string instruments. They’re well into their Beatles argument when my grandfather gestures to the radio and says, “Now this is a good song. This is real music. If the Beatles wrote something like that, I might like them.” My dad turns to his father. “They did,” he says. “That’s an instrumental version of ‘Good Day Sunshine’.”

“Well, then they should have played it that way to begin with,” my grandpa harrumphs. Forty-five years later, thanks to Paul McCartney’s new album Kisses on the Bottom, my grandpa finally got his wish.

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