


Maybe he was playing it because he genuinely wanted Flett’s opinion, although considering the hierarchy involved, most likely this was just a case of the master giving a masterclass to a novice (even though Flett was actually eleven years older than Webb). Even though Webb knew it wasn’t complete, he seemed proud of it. Quick as a flash, Flett followed Webb into his own studio, where he was afforded the luxury of hearing Webb belting out his demo version of the song, complete with improvised coda. It might have an unusual structure, and the lyrics might be particular, but it’s not exactly “Bohemian Rhapsody,” not exactly comparable to the type of intricate prog rock made by the likes of Yes, Camel or Emerson, Lake & Palmer. “Wichita Lineman” is anything but complex. This thesis starts to evaporate further when you consider that received wisdom says that the more complex a song is, the more it will endure. Accordingly, they believe that the more we get to know a piece of music, the less fired up our brains will be in anticipating this peak. Some neuroscientists believe that our brains go through two stages when we listen to a piece of music that we like: the caudate nucleus in the brain anticipates the build-up of our favorite part of the song as we listen, while the nucleus accumbens is triggered by the peak, thus causing the release of endorphins. It has never palled or suffered through overexposure. “Wichita Lineman” sounds as good to me now as it did when I first heard it 50 years ago.
