The Beatles’ White Album was, by the Beatles’ own admission, a mixed bag. There were some great songs, some decent songs, and way too many songs that should have been left behind in India. It’s the nature of the Beatles to toss off novelty songs that still outshine other people’s most serious efforts, but good God, how many half-assed joke songs can one album hold? Not my favorite Beatles records, you may surmise. However, there’s still all those in-between songs that get forgotten because they’re neither big hits nor flagrantly awful. This one is lovely and charming, pure classic Paul McCartney. The kind of Paul McCartney song that Paul McCartney can produce in his sleep. In fact, it’s basically a McCartney solo song that wound up on a Beatles album because McCartney was still technically a Beatle at the time. He wrote and recorded it all by himself (with help from George Martin) much to the chagrin of John Lennon. The Beatles were at that point the musical equivalent of a married couple who keep up appearances for the kids’ sake, while sleeping in separate bedrooms and essentially living separate lives, but Lennon was chagrined anyway (only because he was the jealous type, I presume.) If the backstory drama is more interesting than the music, well, that’s the White Album in a nutshell.