In the end, though, Ringo’s genius makes no difference. That’s because in his own goofy, sad way, Ringo is the everydrummer. A guy back there keeping time.

Keeping time. There is something great about that phrase. With all four appendages working at once, sometimes together, sometimes deliberately at cross-purposes (and that is, if not genius, mind-boggling), time ceases to become abstract. It instead is harnessed like electricity and worked like dough and made into, yes, music.

In a special music issue, it’s a good thing to remember, as the jazzmen used to say, to give the drummer some.

Q: What’s black and blue and lying in a ditch?
A: A guitarist who’s told too many drummer jokes.