The Beatles set the standard for rock bands until their 1970 breakup — then just kept on doing so. In the ’70s and ’80s, they put out two of the first marquee greatest hits collections (the “red” and “blue” albums, which were iconic enough to be reissued in 2023), and their 1987 CD release campaign qualified as an event. Back then, though, they were just starting their afterlife — a productive posthumous career that will continue this fall with a 30th anniversary reissue of the Anthology project, including an extended documentary (available on Disney+ starting Nov. 26), an expanded rarities set (Nov. 21) and an updated edition of the book (Oct. 14). 

Even 55 years after their breakup, the Beatles remain big business. Since the company now known as Luminate began tracking sales in 1991, they have sold 74.1 million albums in the U.S., more than any other act. (That includes physical and downloaded albums, the latter of which weren’t even available legally until 2010, but not streams.) Their 1 collection was the biggest album of the first decade of the 21st century. Since 2020, they have scored 11.9 million equivalent album units in the U.S., according to Luminate, much less than Taylor Swift (64.6 million), but more than Fleetwood Mac (9.7 million), Metallica (8.6 million) or Queen (7.9 million).

Like so much of the Beatles’ career, Anthology and 1 seem unremarkable only because they’ve been so widely imitated. At this point, what big act hasn’t released a career-spanning documentary or a single-disc collection aimed at casual fans (a big deal back when big-box retailers sold CDs)? Sure, but Anthology came out before DVDs mattered, back when rarities collections were still rare. And while the Beatles didn’t invent the number-ones idea, their success with it was followed by similar-concept collections from Elvis Presley, Michael Jackson and others.

Recent Beatles documentary projects loom as big as the band: Peter Jackson’s documentary Get Back ran for eight hours, divided into three episodes on Disney+, and Anthology ran for more than 10, over eight parts. The new ninth part shows the Beatles working on the Anthology project in 1994 and 1995, which brings the project full circle. (Will a future 2050 version show Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr approving this 2025 cut?) There’s something superfan-ish about all of this — the Beatlemaniacs may have been the original fan army — but the audience for it includes much of a generation, as well as plenty of people, like myself, who were born after the band broke up. When it comes to the Beatles, and probably only the Beatles, a superfan just means most people who care about pop music. 

I would love to write a column about what other acts can learn from the Beatles about curating their legacies, but it’s not so simple — they’re the Beatles and no one else is. Some lessons apply universally: Curate well, choose top-tier partners and exercise light but consistent control. Every Beatles project that involves recorded music, from the Cirque du Soleil show “Love” to The Beatles: Rock Band, has a high level of quality. (Those that only use the band’s songs are more uneven: Across the Universe and Yesterday were interesting but not all that compelling.) It’s remarkable. 

These projects don’t feel micromanaged, though. In Peter Jackson, the Beatles found a filmmaker who was talented enough to bring his own perspective to their story, and they relaxed enough to let him. These days, it’s hard to imagine anyone that famous letting his guard down quite so much. In the footage Jackson assembled, the Beatles are the biggest band in the world, but they work and joke and sometimes argue like they’re not paying much attention to the camera. The finished movie doesn’t seem fussed over, and the history comes across as curated with a light touch. Most newer pop stars can’t seem to do that, which is why so many music documentaries end up looking like television commercials. 

How many acts could even use that advice, though? Making a great show or movie means having timeless music, a compelling story and enough charisma for an eight-hour documentary. (I can think of only one other artist who has all three, Bob Dylan, which may be why he’s been the subject of a few great documentaries.) The music is obvious. The Beatles also have a story that fans want to see retold, not despite its familiarity but because of it. They have four distinct personalities, a songwriting partnership that turned into a rivalry, a fast evolution through different styles and a breakup that fans still argue about. (Queen and Led Zeppelin, much as I love them, don’t have much chemistry offstage.) As famous as the Beatles are, the story still rewards different perspectives.  

They’re also just plain fun to watch, with an easy camaraderie forged in Hamburg dive bars and honed during Beatlemania. That’s what makes A Hard Day’s Night so watchable, even though the Beatles essentially just play the Beatles. Many bands, even ones that shine onstage, just aren’t that much fun to look at in the studio. For the Beatles, recording was a creative process that’s visible from the outside — the internal becomes external because they play, talk out what they’re doing, and play again. For most solo artists, that process is internal — there’s not much to look at. These days, it hardly ever even takes place in a studio.  

There’s no suspense about how Anthology will do — the four-volume set, available as eight CDs and 12 LPs, will probably be the biggest catalog release of the fall. (The fourth volume is new, made up of unreleased takes of songs, as well as some that appeared on box sets over the past decade.) Since their 1995 release, the three volumes have scored more than 7 million album equivalent units in the U.S., according to Luminate. This time around, many of those sales will be on vinyl or as box sets, for premium prices. The long and winding road goes on forever.