I've Got a Feeling Again

Being a therianthrope, I may not be fully human, but I absolutely experience the full range of human emotions while listening to the Beatles.

Here’s how I described feelings the last time I tried:

They’re like micro-emotions that nudge your overall decision-making process one way or the other, like tiny ants crawling onto a perfectly balanced domino that might or might not fall. Tiny ants are constantly crawling on the other side of that domino, trying to make it fall the other way, so there is always a struggle going on—we just don’t always notice it.

Why does putting on a Beatles record have such a profound impact on that domino? Clearly, they’re not just some old band from the ‘60s. The Beatles are, after all, the best-selling musical artist of all time. You’re probably aware that I’m not exactly a consensus guy, though, so I don’t really care about popularity.

Still, it’s personal for me, and I know it every time I hear them today. I first listened to the Beatles 40 years ago, and I can feel the way I felt back then.

All the anxiety of my first day of middle school is contained on the White Album. Magical Mystery Tour has my first kiss and that time I broke my collarbone. Revolver contains my utter terror of drugs and my own personal quest to find my identity.

Nearly every Beatles song from about 1966 and beyond—when they started using the good drugs and writing the best songs anyone has ever written—hits me like this. I think it’s because the Beatles were right there with me as I was feeling some of these things for the very first time, right as I entered puberty in sixth grade.

They stayed with me even as I became aware of pop music on the radio and MTV, even though I wasn’t allowed to watch MTV at home. It was the Beatles who first gave me the idea that music and emotion were connected, and I’ve been exploring that notion ever since.