Now the public will finally get to hear a tiny sample of this archival material. A tentative list, obtained by NEWSWEEK, shows 125 tracks spread over three double CDs, the first set due out Nov. 20. There is both more and less to the collection than meets the eye.

Apart from a handful of concert performances, the vast majority of “Anthology” tracks will simply be alternate versions of previously released Beatles songs, from the familiar–“Norwegian Wood,” “Hey Jude”–to the relatively esoteric–“Can You Take Me Back,” “And Your Bird Can Sing.” (Some of the tracks have already been out on bootleg CDs.) There are six Lennon-McCartney compositions the Beatles never released (when you hear them, you’ll understand why). Since “Anthology” is organized chronologically, the later, stronger material won’t come out until early 1996. But even the first set, with material from 1958 to August 1964, boasts such long-baried pleasures as “Leave My Kitten Alone,” an R&B cover with a shouting Lennon vocal over a rambunctious backup. Five songs from a failed 1962 audition will let you second-guess the poor Decca executive who believed guitar groups were “on the way out.” And a dozen tracks from the pre-Ringo era will test whether you can tell his drumming from predecessor Pete Best’s.

“A Day in the Life” is hardly the only Beatles song to change enormously between first run-through and final take: the band’s outtakes often brim with energy, experimentation and joy. The lovely first take of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” sung by George Harrison with just his acoustic guitar, has an extra verse deleted from its electric cousin on “The White Album”: “I look from the wings at the play you are staging. . . As I’m sitting here doing nothing but aging.” According to the proposed song list, “Anthology” will also include takes 1 and 7 of “Strawberry Fields Forever,” as well as Lennon’s melancholy solo demo.

We may get a taste of the Beatles’ gift for wicked ad libs, too. On the demo of “Dear Prudence,” the lovely ballad Lennon wrote in India in 1968, he smirks that the song is about a girl who attended “a meditation course in Rishikesh, India.” McCartney replies by singing what sounds suspiciously like “Cuck-oo,” and Lennon, stifling a laugh, adds, “Who was to know that sooner or later she was to go completely berserk under the care of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi?”

The Abbey Road archives are full of this sort of chat among the Beatles at work. It’s too bad more of it isn’t slated for release. “Rubber Soul” outtakes from Nov. 8, 1965, for example, contain hilarious mimicry and mock arguments that shed light on the personal synergy that was so central to the Beatles’ magic: John the gang leader and wit, Paul the perfectionist workaholic, George the eager younger brother, Bingo the steady best friend.

“Let It Be’s” studio chat rewrites Beatles history. In January 1969, George tells John he’s thinking of doing a solo album. John enthusiastically applauds the idea. All four Beatles can explore solo projects while still working together, explains George, adding, “That preserves this, the Beatles bit . . . . " This one conversation does not prove anything, but it certainly challenges the orthodox view that the breakup was inevitable because the Beatles couldn’t stand to be in the same room anymore.

If only to resolve such disputes in the historical record, all 400 hours of tapes in the Abbey Road archives should be opened to journalists and scholars. As Lennon once said, “Music is everybody’s possession.” Neither EMI nor the surviving Beatles are likely to agree, but John is right. This music belongs to you. Enjoy it.