There are few folk more boring than Beatles fans.
Unwavering in their belief in the "best band ever", they spout lyrics and production notes in a creepy brand of hero-worship that conveniently dismisses all that came before, or since.
I don't count myself among that lot.
Having said that, the Fab Four did knock out a decent album or two.
And 1967's Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band is a defining moment in pop.
Not only did it mark the end of the band's slavish touring/recording cycle and the start of what Paul McCartney would call a period as "artists rather than performers", it stood like a beacon at the centre of social, political, spiritual and artistic crossroads throughout the Summer of Love.
The Beatles have admitted that much of the attention the album received was unwarranted - McCartney's idea to create an imaginary concert by a fictional band was hardly born of deep-and-meaningfuls.
But due to a purple patch in the Lennon/McCartney relationship, the recordings were imbued with an unprecedented sense of band unity.
As it turned out, only two songs would survive as evidence of McCartney's original concept - the title track and the Starr-sung With A Little Help From My Friends.
But with the carnivalesque Being For The Benefit Of Mr Kite and the quaint When I'm Sixty-Four evoking music-hall-era variety shows, a sense that the band was relishing shedding their public personae remains.
Elsewhere, less fanciful ideas pervade the album's more rewarding tracks. Good Morning, Good Morning, She's Leaving Home and Lovely Rita each touch on everyday themes, and album-closer A Day In The Life is a tour de force of wistful pop.
Of course, nothing had ever looked quite like this before, either.
The collage of the Sgt Pepper band standing amid life-sized cardboard models of their heroes still intrigues those bent on searching for hidden meaning.
But I wouldn't wish to bore you . . .
