According to the ITunes website, its best-selling Beatles singles download is “Here Comes the Sun.” I’m not certain it would have been my first choice, but its popularity is certainly understandable. The simple lyric about the sun breaking out after a long period of grey winter weather is, if taken literally, rather banal, but there is a certain poignancy to it if approached as a metaphor for hope after a long period of tribulation. The lead guitar picks out a precise melody that easily sticks in the memory, and the moog synthesizer gives it an uplifting feel as the song closes. The Beatles were known for their musical and lyrical experimentation, so it is ironic that one of their more straightforward tunes—by its “third-string” composer—is its most popular. But perhaps not so surprising. My favorite solo Beatle song is “My Sweet Lord” with that addictive chorus—which also happened to be composed (well, part of it, anyways) by the same writer of “Here Comes the Sun”: George Harrison. Harrison also co-wrote (and played 12-string guitar on) my second favorite solo Beatle single, Ringo Starr’s “Photograph.” Harrison always had a knack for writing memorable melodies, although as a lyricist (and singer) he could be excruciating. His top-twenty solo hit “You” features a Phil Spector “wall of sound” production at its best, but the absurdly minimalist lyrics and Harrison’s awful singing nearly kills it.
Harrison, who died in 2001 of cancer, is currently the subject of a Martin Scorsese documentary. I haven’t seen the documentary, but reviewers say that on the positive side it throws a great deal of material, some of it new, the viewers way. On the negative side, there isn’t much analysis as to the meaning of George Harrison; we know what he did, but not why he did those things or what people thought of them. The “quiet” Beatle—who often appeared awkward in public—didn’t exactly carry on a quiet personal life, with drugs, womanizing and what Terry Gilliam called “a weird kind of angry bitterness.” Those are just details; they don’t tell us what made him “tick.” The inner demons of John Lennon were much more transparent; he even made it public with “Mother,” a rather disturbing song complete with a primal scream fadeout.
I suppose it might be surprising that the Beatle that many people regarded as the perfect example of an ordinary talent who by pure dumb luck found himself in exactly the right place at the right time would be subjected to such treatment by a major filmmaker. But Harrison does in a way represent what the “Everyman” dreams about: Making it big in spite of the odds of growing-up in a lower class neighborhood in a relatively backward city like Liverpool. By the time he was twenty he was a millionaire and famous to millions of people, even though all he did was pick a guitar and sing occasional background behind the two main forces behind the group, Lennon and McCartney. Yet he knew was itching to prove that he had some talent as well, even if his “mates” either ignored him or pestered him about “not getting it” in regard to his guitar playing on their songs.
And Harrison did bring something to the table, after all. His singing was never particularly good, but the few songs of his that made it on Beatles’ albums were usually catchy and a change-of-pace. He “pioneered” the use of the sitar and synthesizer on pop songs (The Rolling Stones “Paint it Black” is simply not the same song without the sitar), and his fascination with Hindu philosophy briefly provided the Beatles with a social relevance beyond their popcraft persona. Harrison also did not view himself as so exalted as to be adverse to “sharing” himself and supporting causes he thought worthwhile, and not for personal publicity, like John and Yoko; he once made a surprise appearance on the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour, encouraging the Brothers to continue their fight against network censorship, and the Concert for Bangladesh was the first benefit concert of its kind. Harrison was also the first ex-Beatle to appear on Saturday Night Live, as a musical guest with James Taylor; on an occasion when word reached SNL producers that Lennon and McCartney were both in town, a $1 million offer for them merely to show-up on the set together wasn’t sufficient inducement. Harrison’s Beatle’s era songwriting improved as the years went on, increasingly reflected his spiritual and social concerns; they could even be the most memorable songs on a Beatles album: “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” on the White Album, and “Something” and “Here Comes the Sun” on Abbey Road. If the Beatles had remained intact, we likely would never have been bestowed what some regard as the best post-Beatle album, Harrison’s All Things Must Pass. The album feels a bit preachy, but Spector’s involvement on the music side gives it even today a unique sonic texture. If I had to pick a favorite post-Beatle album, it would have to be Lennon’s Imagine, but I’d pick “Pass” as the runner-up. Harrison was, in the end, relevant.
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