It was never supposed to happen. John was gone, George was gone, and the tapes were a mess. For decades, the phrase "the last song of the Beatles" felt like a door that had been slammed shut in 1970, or perhaps a window left slightly cracked during the Anthology sessions in the nineties. Then came 2023.
"Now and Then" isn't just a track. It is a time machine. It’s a piece of plastic and digital code that somehow bridges a gap of fifty years, bringing four men back into a room together who haven't actually been in the same room since the Nixon administration. Honestly, the story behind it is kinda messy. It involves a buzzing radiator, a cassette tape tucked away in a New York apartment, and a billionaire film director using the same tech that restores old war footage.
If you grew up thinking "The End" from Abbey Road was the final word, or maybe the scruffy "I Me Mine," you’ve got to recalibrate. The history of the world's most famous band didn't end with a breakup; it ended with an AI-assisted miracle.
The cassette tape that changed everything
The origin of the last song of the Beatles starts in the late 1970s. John Lennon was in his "house husband" phase at the Dakota Building. He wasn't in a high-end studio. He was sitting at a piano, humming into a portable recorder. The audio quality? Terrible. There was a persistent hum from the apartment’s electrical circuit.
Yoko Ono handed those tapes to Paul, George, and Ringo in 1994. They managed to finish "Free as a Bird" and "Real Love." They were hits. They were beautiful. But "Now and Then" was the problem child. They tried to work on it at McCartney's home studio, but the technology just wasn't there yet. George Harrison reportedly didn't like it much—not because of the song itself, but because the "junk" (the background noise) was burying John’s voice.
They gave up. They literally put it in a drawer for nearly thirty years.
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Why we had to wait for Peter Jackson
You might wonder why it took until 2023. The answer isn't musical; it's computational. During the production of the Get Back documentary, director Peter Jackson and his team developed a technology called MAL (Machine Audio Learning).
Basically, the software can "hear" a demo and recognize the difference between a piano, a voice, and a buzzing heater. It’s not "AI" in the sense of generating a fake voice—don't get that twisted. It’s AI in the sense of a digital scalpel. It peeled John's voice off the noisy background like a sticker off a window.
When Paul McCartney heard the cleaned-up vocal, he knew they could finally finish the last song of the Beatles. He added a new bass line. Ringo got behind the kit. They even pulled in George's guitar parts from the failed 1995 session. It is a Frankenstein’s monster of a song, but it sounds like a heartbeat.
The George Harrison factor
Some fans felt weird about it. If George called it "f***ing rubbish" back in the nineties (as McCartney has jokingly recalled), should they have finished it? It’s a fair question. But George's contributions are all over the track. His acoustic guitar from the 1995 session provides the rhythm. Paul even played a slide guitar solo in George’s specific style as a tribute.
It’s a collage. That is the only way to describe it. You have 1970s John, 1995 George, and 2023 Paul and Ringo.
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The lyrics: A message from the grave?
People read a lot into the words. "Now and then / I miss you." Was John writing to Paul? Was he writing to Yoko? Or was he just sketching out a melody?
It doesn't really matter. The context of 2023 gave those words a weight they didn't have in 1977. When you hear an 80-year-old Paul McCartney singing harmony with a 35-year-old John Lennon, the hair on your arms stands up. It’s haunting. It’s a conversation across the afterlife.
The song itself is a mid-tempo ballad. It’s more melancholy than "Free as a Bird." It feels like a sunset. It doesn't try to be "Sgt. Pepper." It just tries to be a goodbye.
Breaking down the production
- The Strings: They recorded them at Capitol Studios. To keep it a secret, the musicians were told they were working on a solo McCartney project.
- The Vocals: McCartney's voice is older, thicker. But when mixed with Lennon's crystal-clear (thanks to MAL) tenor, it creates that specific "Beatle" harmony that no one else has ever quite replicated.
- The Bass: Paul used his iconic Hofner. It’s melodic, busy, and unmistakably him.
What most people get wrong about the AI
There is this massive misconception that the last song of the Beatles used a "fake" John Lennon. That’s wrong. It’s 100% John. The technology was used for separation, not creation.
Think of it like cleaning an old painting. You aren't painting over the original; you're just removing the dirt so you can see the brushstrokes. If they had used a generative AI to "write" a Beatles song, fans would have revolted. Instead, they used it to save a performance that was otherwise lost to time.
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Is it actually good?
Music is subjective, obviously. Some critics thought it was a bit slight. They argued that the Beatles ended in 1970 and everything else is just a postscript.
But look at the charts. It went to number one in the UK. People wanted this. They needed a moment of closure. The music video, directed by Peter Jackson, is a bit of a trip—it features digital versions of the younger Beatles goofing around with the older versions. Kinda cheesy? Maybe. Emotional? Absolutely.
Moving forward with the Beatles legacy
If you want to truly appreciate the last song of the Beatles, don't just stream it on a crappy phone speaker once and move on. You have to contextualize it.
- Listen to the "Red" and "Blue" albums (2023 versions): They used the same de-mixing tech on the early tracks like "I Saw Her Standing There." It makes the 1963 recordings sound like they were made yesterday.
- Watch the "Now and Then" short film: It’s about 12 minutes long and shows the actual process of Paul and Ringo in the studio. Seeing Ringo’s face when he hears John’s voice in his headphones is worth the price of admission.
- Compare it to the 1995 tracks: Listen to "Free as a Bird," then "Real Love," then "Now and Then." You can hear the evolution of audio restoration. It’s a masterclass in music archaeology.
The story of the Beatles is now officially over. There are no more tapes. No more hidden demos in the vault that are "good enough" to be finished. This was the final piece of the puzzle. It wasn't the loudest or the most experimental thing they ever did, but it was the most human. It proved that even decades after half the band is gone, the chemistry still works.
Turn the lights down. Put on a good pair of headphones. Listen to that count-in. That’s the sound of the circle finally closing.