If you were walking through the streets of London today, you might have heard a sound coming down from on high. At first you might have thought it was the heavenly host appearing to signal the beginning of the end times; then you might have noticed that they were making smartass remarks and playing the occasional wrong note. Then you might have looked up toward the roof of 3 Savile Row and said to yourself, “It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s The Beatles!”

And yes, indeed it was. In a sort of Hail Mary attempt to bring some kind of definitive end to the out-of-control Get Back/Let It Be sessions, they had decided to come out and play a concert on the roof of their headquarters. They got no permits, asked no permission, just thought it up and did it — not unlike Col. Kurtz.

This being England in midwinter, it was a bit chilly up there. John borrowed a full-length fur from Yoko, Ringo wore Maureen’s heavy red raincoat, and George was in some kind of fuzzy black thing (along with groovy pea-green stovepipe pants). Only Paul appeared to value nattiness over comfort, decked out in a suit jacket that can’t have provided much warmth, but did look smashing. Paul’s beard was also in top form.

This may be one of those cases where a picture is worth a thousand words. I wonder, for video, does the conversion translate to 24,000 words per second? Anyway, here’s a a complete version of the concert that I expect to go away at any moment. There will be more commentary later, but for now, enjoy while you can.