Yesterday (hm) I was at the Champs-élysées Fnac (a kind of smarter Virgin megastore) and I couldn't resist the temptation to listen to One, the latest Beatles compilation. Silly me.

I should have known I couldn't resist the temptation to listen to the whole album. 27 songs, 27 pieces of pure happiness. The vendor at the desk glared at me. The guy behind me (who wanted to listen as well) glared at me. At some point I had the uncomfortable feeling that the whole human population of the store was glaring at me with hateful eyes.

I didn't care. I didn't surrender the headphones until the last note of Let it be vanished between my ears. And long after that (sitting on a métro seat going back home) I was still thinking : "what's the point of making pop music after the Beatles ? How comes we've got Radiohead, Oasis, the RHCP, and plenty of other bands to suit just about anybody's taste - but yet nothing so universal, so direct, so evident - so quintessentially popular as the good old Fab Four ?"

And there, under the dim neon light of the parisian subway, I kept wondering at the disturbing fact that the greatest album of year 2000 had been made by a band which had been founded forty years ago...

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