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This is the album where the Beatles become more of an equal partnership. John Lennon's domination of the band, played out over the first four albums, is over; replaced by a new regime of 50/50 partnership, with Paul McCartney, that will arguably next for this and the next album. Not in terms of quantity, but in quality: McCartney will produce most of the Beatles hits after the year 1965 is over. On this album, too, George Harrison begins to write songs again in earnest, and from now on he'll have two songs (at least) on every album, with the exception of Sgt. Pepper.
Call this an article, but really it's an opinion piece. I'm not planning to look anything up, just let my impressions roll off, so if my facts are wrong, I claim them. 
Johnny Ace was this R&B singer back in the day who blew his head off on Christmas Eve playing Russian Roulette backstage at his own concert. All of his music happened to sound a whole lot like funeral music, too. Heavy on the slow piano. When we get into the impending start of a year, where the Egg Nog is souring in the fridge and everyone is bushed from the Holiday rush, when the feeling isn't so much post coital as post traumatic, I think of poor old Johnny Ace, with a chip on his shoulder and too much to prove. By default, "Pledging My Love" is a good sad Christmas song, even though there's no Christmas in it.
Writing and recording and filming TV shows and movies and performing for radio sessions and live concerts and...wow, how'd we get this far? By late 1964, the Beatles were the unquestioned rulers of rock, pop and the emergent youth culture, but they also had a punishing schedule. Is it any wonder they look so drained on the cover of their fourth album? This is the album that is generally reckoned to be the weakest, at least from the early period, due to the harried nature of the recording process. However, I kinda like it.
Wow. That one chord, the one that opens the song, the album...the one that opens the film of the same time, too, for that matter; it's jubliant, it's chiming, sets the tone for the fade-out of that first song, a bell-like cascade from the 12-string Rickenbacker George Harrison had taken to playing. 
This is the day the world changed. This is the day, according to some commentators, that the "Sixties" really began. 22 November 1963. Everything was different after this. Some of the shockwaves would be felt years down the line, after the initial event. But for now, while America was stunned by the short, sharp shock of the death of a President, leading to questions, questions and eventually, doubt in the establishment, England was stunned by the short, sharp shock of the new, joyous voice of youth, leading to...well, questions, questions and eventually, doubt in the establishment. Whichever landmass, the world was turned upside down.
I do not care for the Foo Fighters.
