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    Tag: George Harrison

    • Soundtrack Memories

      In the last few days, a trio of musicians have passed away. They say these things happen in threes, and there you go. Jimmy Buffett, Steve Harwell from Smash Mouth and Gary Wright all passed away within a couple of days of each other. Each is a part of our soundtrack in their own way, and certain songs remind us of special moments in our lives when it was playing. Memories are funny things, and songs, like scents, bring the past back in waves.

      Well, I think it’s time to get ready
      To realize just what I have found
      I have lived only half of what I am
      It’s all clear to me now
      My heart is on fire
      — Gary Wright, Love Is Alive

      There always seemed to be a Gary Wright song playing for awhile there. Especially Dream Weaver but Love is Alive wasn’t far behind. Together they’re an integral part of the life of anyone who listened to popular music in the 70’s. Gary was a musician on George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass album, which seems appropriate to bring up at the moment. We keep seeing examples of it, and our lesson is clear: Memento mori, friend. Carpe diem…

      So much to do, so much to see
      So what’s wrong with taking the back streets?
      You’ll never know if you don’t go
      You’ll never shine if you don’t glow
      Hey now, you’re an all star
      Get your game on, go play
      Hey now, you’re a rock star
      Get the show on, get paid
      And all that glitters is gold
      Only shooting stars break the mold
      — Smash Mouth, All Star

      Smash Mouth was a shooting star at a time when the entire music industry was swirling with exciting new music. I’ve often thought I’d use these lyrics one day, I just didn’t anticipate it would be at the death of their lead singer. The thing about shooting stars is that they burn out quickly. Harwell’s lifestyle apparently led to his early demise at 56. I know someone trying to kill themselves with alcohol and had a cousin who did. Alcohol can be a demon that grabs ahold of its victim and drags them down to depths unexpected when they start dancing with it. I feel for his family and friends.

      Most mysterious calling harbor
      So far but yet so near
      I can see the day when my hair’s full gray
      And I finally disappear
      — Jimmy Buffett, One Particular Harbor

      Jimmy Buffett had twenty years on Harwell, but it still felt like he passed way too soon. His impact on my own soundtrack is obvious, as I’ve inserted him into three blog posts in the three days since I heard that he’d passed away. Each of these musicians filled some part of our lives, and by extension the lives of those who live on the periphery and catch the tune as they’re making their own memories. Music and memories are viral in that way. The music lives on, as we all say, but the world feels a bit emptier today than it did just a few days ago. Each of them filled the world with song. Doesn’t it fall on us to pick up where they left off?

    • George Harrison in Four Songs

      George Harrison passed away twenty years ago today, on the 29th of November, 2001. So soon after 9/11 it made the moment feel like the universe was piling on a bit, for George—the quiet Beatle—was the one I identified with the most. In these last twenty years I’ve come to appreciate his work even more. So on this anniversary of his passing, here are four of many extraordinary songs from George Harrison’s solo career:

      Give Me Love (Give Me Peace On Earth)
      Give me hope
      Help me cope, with this heavy load
      Trying to, touch and reach you with
      Heart and soul
      … My lord

      A regular on every upbeat, joyful playlist I create, this song makes you feel glad to be alive. And that’s not unusual with George Harrison songs, for he made the most of his time on this Earth. You can easily say he was the most spiritual Beatle, trying to find meaning in this crazy world we live in and turning that search into songs of celebration and fellowship. My Sweet Lord is another example of this spiritualism exploration, and the two often end up on the same playlists.

      Behind That Locked Door
      Why are you still crying?
      Your pain is now through
      Please forget those teardrops
      Let me take them for you
      The love you are blessed with
      This world’s waiting for
      So let out your heart please, please
      From behind that locked door

      I’ve heard that George Harrison had a collection of ukuleles and loved playing them. This is a beautiful song for that particular instrument, and you feel George drawing a smile out of you even on your darkest days. Such a quietly delightful invitation out of your protective shell and back into the world.

      What Is Life
      Tell me, what is my life without your love?
      Tell me, who am I without you by my side?

      Sure, you can interpret this song a couple of ways. Is the relationship between two people in love or between a person and God? You might even consider that this was the first album released after The Beatles broke up, and it can mean something else entirely for you. It’s whatever you want it to mean, and it sticks in your brain for the catchiness and clever lyrics.

      All Those Years Ago
      We’re living in a bad dream
      They’ve forgotten all about mankind
      And you were the one they backed up to the wall
      All those years ago
      You were the one who imagined it all
      All those years ago

      George’s song about John Lennon, written after he was murdered in New York, celebrates the bond between the two lifelong friends even as it pointedly dismisses those who profited by knocking them and others down. These lyrics still stand out as we deal with a rise in nationalism, racism, and profiteering as the world struggles to reverse climate change and bring about positive and inclusive social change. John would have been a loud voice in the conversation today, and I suspect George would have been right there shoulder-to-shoulder with him. As he was all those years ago.

    • I’ve Loved Them All

      And in the end
      The love you take
      Is equal to the love you make
      – The Beatles, The End

      Which Beatles album is the greatest? The answer is different for most everyone, but it usually comes down to Rubber Soul, Revolver and Sgt. Pepper’s each wrestling for number one, with a couple of votes each for The Beatles (White Album) and Abbey Road. It’s a bit like asking which is your favorite child; you simply love them all as they are.

      The Beatles are always in the background of my life. Always. Born at the height of their popularity, you simply grew up listening to them. For those of us born “too late”, we missed out on the anticipation of a new album being released, for it was all out there when we began listening in earnest. When you’ve heard the later work, your jaw doesn’t drop quite as far to the floor when you listen to Rubber Soul. But you still appreciate the creative leap forward from Help! (a great album itself).

      All these places have their moments
      With lovers and friends I still can recall
      Some are dead and some are living
      In my life I’ve loved them all
      – The Beatles, In My Life

      Which is your favorite Beatle? This tells more about you than you might think. For me it was always George Harrison. The quiet Beatle. And for all the brilliantly prolific work of John Lennon and Paul McCartney, it was George who dropped some of the best songs into the mix of “best Beatles song”, which is close to impossible to determine.

      With every mistake, we must surely be learning
      Still my guitar gently weeps
      – The Beatles, While My Guitar Gently Weeps

      If George has 3-4 songs that ought to be in the mix for the best Beatles song, Lennon and McCartney had even more individually, and collaboratively co-wrote some of the greatest songs ever written on some of the best albums ever released. So how do you choose the best? Look at their solo careers? Here too, the ratio seems about the same.

      We could spend our lifetime debating such things or just agree that it was a brilliant run for the Fab Four. For this business of picking a favorite is nonsense. In the end we love them all.

    • Considering the Music of 1973

      Oh, give me the beat, boys, and free my soul
      I want to get lost in your rock ‘n’ roll
      And drift away

      Dobie Gray didn’t write Drift Away, Mentor Williams wrote it. But Dobie made it an international hit. The right mix of sing along, stirring lyrics and his silky soulful voice made it magical. I go about with life, forgetting about a song like this for a time, and then hear it on the radio or shuffled on a playlist of songs and it washes over me all over again, bringing me back to the first memories of hearing it. Dobie’s version was released in 1973, by all measures a very good year for music, with some of the greatest songs ever written released that year.

      Consider these ten 1973 classics:
      Give Me Love (Give Me Peace On Earth)
      Ramblin Man
      Let’s Get It On
      Just You ‘N’ Me
      Angie
      Money
      Bad, Bad Leroy Brown
      Over the Hills and Far Away
      Jet
      Love, Reign o’er Me

      And that’s just scratching the surface. Big albums were released in 1973, including Dark Side of the Moon, Band on the Run, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Houses of the Holy and Quadrophenia. Individual songs were brilliant, but this was the peak era of albums, when the entire record was a work of art gift-wrapped in an album cover to cherish. Radio latched on to songs and made them hits, but the fans were eagerly listening to deep cuts on the best albums and finding gold.

      The world itself was upside down in 1973, with Watergate beginning to boil up, the Paris Peace Agreement to get the United States out of Vietnam, inflation running amuck, and our parents dressing us in some crazy multicolor outfits. But hey, at least we had the music. And if you were a kid growing up in the early 70’s you were immersed in some of the greatest music ever created.

      1973 was a stacked year in a string of stacked years for rock and roll. Scan the music released in any year from 1965 to 1975 and you can create a heck of a playlist. These were the golden years for rock ‘n’ roll, when each release, and each year, tried to raise the bar. Popular music tried to stay hip and part of the action, and sometimes a song would rise up and become that classic for the ages. If we’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that popular doesn’t always equal good, and there were some really bad songs hitting the charts in each of those years too, but those tend to drift away, don’t they? As with life, we tend to remember the best things. Like great songs. You know a melody can move me…

    • Oh, That Magic Feeling: Abbey Road

      Abbey Road turned 50 years old last week. It’s always been my favorite Beatles album, particularly side two with its magical medley. It grabbed me the year that Lennon was shot and hasn’t let me go since. To be coming into my own as a young Beatles fan and then lose one of them was a gut punch at a time when I hadn’t taken a lot of gut punches yet.

      Abbey Road ages well. From the first notes of Come Together to the surprise bonus track Her Majesty, the album is still an astonishing journey after countless listening. It’s The Beatles throwing it all out there to see what happens, as they’d done for each of their milestone albums since Rubber Soul. It would all end with Abbey Road, their last studio album, and the last song they’d ever collaborate on was Come Together. Surely they had a sense of irony?

      George Harrison, the quiet Beatle, was at his creative peak with two of the best Beatles songs ever, his masterpieces Here Comes The Sun and Something. As a kid I latched onto Harrison as my favorite Beatle. Lennon and McCartney were just too big for me then. Harrison wasn’t flashy, he just got things done. And he surely was doing, er, Something. “Something in the way she moves” would be a line James Taylor would borrow from George for his own song of the same name, a tribute to the giants around him when he was recording at Abbey Road Studios around the same time.

      If the album had great individual songs on side one, side two would become famous for that medley. How many radio DJ’s put the needle down on that medley and ran to the bathroom because they had time? All of them. Because, You Never Give Me Your Money, Sun King, Mean Mr. Mustard, Polythene Pam, She Came In Through The Bathroom Window, Golden Slumbers, The End…. Her Majesty. Boom. Rapid fire, half finished songs blended together into one unified medley. Brilliant percussion from Ringo and Paul’s underrated bass guitar, John and George on guitar… and all of them harmonizing like they’d sing together forever. But this truly was the end.

      One verse in that medley stands out for me the same back as a teenager as it does today, if the meaning has changed over the span of time;

      “Any jobber got the sack

      Monday morning, turning back

      Yellow lorry slow, nowhere to go

      But oh, that magic feeling, nowhere to go

      Oh, that magic feeling

      Nowhere to go, nowhere to go”

      – The Beatles, “You Never Give Me Your Money”

      Surely the idea of nowhere to go meant something to The Beatles, having ground themselves to dust touring and then prolifically cranking out brilliant album after brilliant album. They were exhausted, sick of each other, burdened by business transactions gone wrong, wrestling with creative tensions, and incredibly, still in their twenties. Solo careers were just ahead for all of them, but they came together for this incredible album to give us one last gift. Let It Be would come later, but was recorded prior to Abbey Road. This would be it, but what a way to end.