So as they started to experiment more, how did that increase the pressure on you?

[John] said, "If I had my way, I would record everything again." And I said, Everything?" He said "yeah." I said, "What about 'Strawberry Fields?'" And he said, "Especially 'Strawberry Fields.'"

To begin with, the pressure wasn't that great because it was up to them to find it, not me. The period from 1962 to 1966 was really just grabbing the boys whenever I could. They were so successful and in such demand, I had to book time with them for recording. Brian would give me a day here, an evening there, it was always rushed like mad. It was remarkable the records we did make, because "Revolver" and "Rubber Soul" were good albums, but they were done with this pressure on the time.

Eventually (in 1966) they told Brian that they'd decided, unanimously, that they were not going to appear in public again. Now, this was a sledgehammer blow to Brian -- these were his babies who were making him famous, he was Diaghilev and they were the Royal Ballet. But he had to accept it. And thus we began what was to become "Sgt. Pepper," but which started with "Strawberry Fields Forever." That was actually the first track that we were able to re-record -- an event impossible before that time.

June 1 was the 40th anniversary of "Sgt. Pepper." Why do you think that album still has such an aura around it -- "The greatest album of all time" and all that?

"Pepper" was great, but I think "Abbey Road" was better. I think "Revolver" might have been better. But the significant thing about "Pepper" was that it was the first of its kind, a new car rolling off the block that was an inspiration, instead of being another Ford. And in the same way that a great Rolls-Royce of 1935 is still a beautiful thing, "Sgt Pepper" is still a beautiful thing. And of course, I think part of our success was in the timing, which proved to be a serendipitous happening.

Why do you think that "Abbey Road" was better?

It's got some fantastically good songs, and it's got the long section [the side two medley], which I'd always been wanting. I wanted to get John and Paul to think more seriously about their music. I tried to instruct them in the art of classical music, and explain to them what sonata form was. Paul was all for experimenting like that, but John said, "I'm a rock and roller, George, I can't do this stuff." A song like "Come Together" really shows how the boys worked if I had to pick one song that showed the four disparate talents and the ways they combined to make a great sound, I would choose that one. And the bittersweet irony of "Abbey Road," of course, was that we all knew it was the last album, we really did.

The common perception is that John was the emotional, spontaneous rebel and Paul was the craftsman. How true are those versions?

John and Paul were opposite sides of the same coin. They had a tremendous amount of similarities -- people have always noted the difference, they've always said that John was the rebel, the Teddy Boy, the guy who would break away and do outrageous things. And Paul was the sweetie who wrote the somewhat sickly melodies that everybody liked. But that wasn't true, it was a generalization which was hurtful to both of them.

You couldn't write anything more sentimental than "Julia" or more whimsical than "Across the Universe." And Paul wrote "Helter Skelter," for God's sake. And when they came together and helped each other, like on "A Day in the Life," the result was fantastic.

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