The phone rang. It was maybe early October now. It was Paul [McCartney], asking if I could come over to the Beatles’ building in nearby Savile Row, a short walk from Maddox Street. The Beatles had stopped touring in 1966 and had not played to any kind of audience since, and didn’t want to. The last tour had gotten too crazy—Beatles records being burned in the South because of a remark John had made, a fan swan-diving off the second tier of a stadium in San Francisco, screaming so loudly they couldn’t hear themselves play. “Well, Michael,” Paul began. “When we did that ‘Hey Jude’ with the audience and we were playing and they seemed to really get into it … and we sort of liked it … well, you know we haven’t played to any sort of audience since we stopped in 1966, but we”—and here he looked at John, who said nothing but took a drag on his cigarette—“we were thinking maybe, just maybe, we could do some sort of a concert somewhere, and would you be interested in doing that with us?” Let It Be was ready to be released in early 1970. But tremors were starting to be felt under the foundations of Apple. The Beatles were about to, and then did, break up. But here we are, 55 years after I made it, 50 years since it was last available to be seen. —Michael Lindsay-Hogg