
This isn't the polished, multi-tracked perfection of Abbey Road or the curated nostalgia of The Beatles at the Hollywood Bowl.
This is a visceral, sweat-soaked document of four young men at the eye of a global hurricane, performing in the oppressive heat of a Madrid bullring. The sound is thick with the ghosts of 1965: the mid-range punch of Vox amplifiers pushed to their breaking point and the relentless, rhythmic roar of a crowd that is as much a part of the instrument as the guitars themselves.
How does Concierto en Madrid 2 de julio de 1965 sound next to the rest of The Beatles's catalogue?
Festival saturates this record far more than the artist's norm.
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