Something I find neat about George Harrison is that even though he's a Beatle, he still feels like someone you can discover on your own. He's a mystery. The downside to this is that he's probably the most difficult Beatle to find information about, and I personally don't feel his story has ever been done justice. He was an amazing, unique, and complex person who had an even more incredible life than many people realise. I started this blog in 2013 so that I could put all these stories about him in one place for anyone who happens to be interested, and it's also my way of keeping the memory of him alive. Hope you enjoy!
NOTE: This post became super long, so I decided to split it in two parts!
When I first got into The Beatles it was during the height of Indie. I remember more than any other song Long, Long, Long stuck out to me because it sounded incredibly modern and would've fit right in with the type of music which was popular in the late 00s-early 10s. What I didn't realise was there was in fact a reason Long, Long, Long sounded like these modern artists. lol
Years later I was looking for information on All Things Must Pass and came across this quote from music critic John Bergstrom:
It’s easy to overlook All Things Must Pass‘s musical influence, too. How many guitar-driven, echo-drenched bands have come around since, mixing powerful rave-ups with moody, reflective down-tempo numbers and a spiritual bent? Say what you want about ELO, but My Morning Jacket, Fleet Foxes, Grizzly Bear, and the rest more than make up for it. Furthermore, one listen to “Let It Down”, and you’ll understand a big part of how “Dream Pop” came to be.
You can read the whole article here. It was written in January 2011 and gives an interesting idea of how much the reputation of ATMP has grown since then. Going back to the above quote, I was quite struck by it. Somehow I had never really thought about the wider impact ATMP had. Critics and biographers would talk about what a wonderful album it was, but I never saw them make those connections. Nevertheless it made sense (aside from the ELO dig).
That being said, I wanted to find more evidence. Bergstrom doesn't elaborate further, so one could easily think this was merely another case of a critic giving a Beatle credit where it wasn't warranted. Any attempts to search for "George Harrison + Dream Pop" only came up with articles citing Bergstrom as the source of this claim.
So I decided to take a different approach and looked into individual artists, starting with those listed by Bergstrom.
Jim James of My Morning Jacket does in fact adore George and ATMP in particular. He speaks at length about his admiration here and here.
Harrison died in 2001, not long after James discovered All Things Must Pass, so for him “it took on this cosmic thing, this extra sadness, because I was just so in love with this music… It’s crazy because [the album] is so long, but the whole thing is just so deep and so wise, and there’s some of it that’s so silly and childlike. It’s really a bold, brave statement from somebody that was so successful. ”All Things Must Pass" was important enough in James’s musical evolution that in 2009, his first solo EP, Tribute to, consisted entirely of Harrison covers. “My Sweet Lord,” in particular, is in constant rotation. “The word ‘God’ or the word ‘Lord,’ to me, means a more universal consciousness. I believe we are all God and that God is love and God is everything.” he says. “With ‘My Sweet Lord,’ I just feel this universal wash of love. There’s a certain hypnosis; it’s almost like air to me. It sustains me and keeps me alive the way really no other song has, because it doesn’t project itself. Alice Coltrane’s music is similar to me, where there’s this beautiful expansion of consciousness and love and god and awareness—this deep ache of what we go through on Earth, trying to understand our role in the cosmic scheme of it all.”
With Fleet Foxes it was more tricky. The closest I came to direct evidence was this quote from guitarist Skyler Skjelset:
"When I was younger, I would go through phases of being obsessed with different guitar players. Some days it would be George Harrison, other times it would be Neil Young. I think the real catalyst for starting the band was that we simply enjoyed doing things together and playing the kind of music we liked was more fun than anything else could have been."
Furthermore, former member Father John Misty is a big Beatles fan and his solo album Mahashmashana is very much influenced by ATMP.
With Grizzly Bear I think Daniel Rossen's solo EP from 2012 speaks for itself:
Comparisons between Grizzly Bear and ATMP also came up in reviews. More crucially, both of these bands were majorly inspired by Elliott Smith -- a huge George fan.
"Elliott Smith just may prove up to the task. For everything it can mean this year, he is the songwriter to beat, a waltz-loving, George Harrison-quoting, profane craftsman" - SPIN's 1999 profile of Elliott Smith
"The singer-songwriter talks about his upcoming album Figure 8 and its being rockier than his previous work; his love for George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass; recording at London's legendary Abbey Road; peoples’ perceptions of his happiness or otherwise; moving from Portland to New York to Los Angeles; his previous album XO being more produced and slick... and his favourite Beatles songs." - Rock's Back Pages (16 December 1999)
Next I want to get into the "Dream Pop" claim. Now, there's a contentious debate regarding what Dream Pop is, where it came from, and who exactly fits into Dream Pop/Shoegaze/Indie. For the sake of keeping things simple I'm going to bundle them together.
I'll go further into Big Star's connection with George in a later post, but for now I want to mention the song Try Again (1972) which perfectly encapsulates his influence on them. Big Star are considered one of the precursors to the Dream Pop/Shoegaze/Indie sound.
Galaxie 500 were a late 80s-early 90s band again very formative.
Damon Krukowski: I guess by the time we got around to putting out Today, we thought we had stronger songs than ‘On The Floor’. I think it was maybe inspired by George Harrison; songs like ‘Alive Without Travelling’ (sic, The Inner Light), where it’s just this drone. I think I speak for all of us at the time that George was our favourite Beatle.
Naomi Yang: Yes! George is still my favourite Beatle!
DK: No objection here.
- TheQuietus (Oct. 2025)
A more recent example would be Beach House. They love George, and somewhere out there is an interview where they mention that although they primarily get compared to Cocteau Twins, ATMP was the vibe they were aiming for.
One of the ones we became infatuated with during the early days of our friendship was “All Things Must Pass” by George Harrison. I think it had commercial success at the time but it was never on the level of all the other Beatles’ success. And the whole record is one of those records that start to finish is completely incredible. There’s not a bad song anywhere. This is the title song, “All Things Must Pass.” - Beach House, WTMD 89.7
Another is Weyes Blood, especially her album Titanic Rising:
During the height of the pandemic Angel Olsen put out a cover of Beware of Darkness on Instagram. Later, she released the album Big Time, and while promoting it continuously brought up George as one of the people she listened to most for inspiration. She talks about her love for ATMP here.
All Things Must Pass is something I always listened to in the car, in the van, or in the bus or wherever I was. Just an incredible record. In different times of struggle or heartbreak in my life, I’ll always revisit it. It’s the perfect record for “You’re almost out! You’ve made it out of this thing.” A lot of the songs are about loving someone and falling in love too. But those feelings are really similar to me: the feeling of falling in love and that feeling of really finding your way through something. You kind of fall in love with yourself and life again, and you start to hear things that people are saying differently. You’re tapping into synchronicity, and you’re able to be open to hear people that normally you’d be too wrapped up to hear. That record is really perfect for that mood or that moment that really encapsulates that experience [...] [With All Things Must Pass], it’s never been, “Oh, the way it’s recorded at this studio — with this person and the energy they had and Eric Clapton coming in.” It’s never been about that stuff for me. These songs are really special and really pure — this person is really trying to find peace within themselves. Maybe the world has been dealing them one thing after another, and they have to continually try to find that peace, which we all have to do. I really relate to that. Also, it just sounds fucking good. It’s so good. [Laughs.]
Side Note: Big Time was produced by Jonathan Wilson who often works with Father John Misty. WIlson is a big George guy.
“I’d thought of [Forever Means] as a kind of nod to George Harrison, who I’d been getting back into during the pandemic as I was finally calming down and finding moments of peace with myself." - Angel Olsen
I want to be clear that I'm not trying say George should be credited with inventing these genres. I personally don't believe music works that way. More like -- I think George has always been able to capture a certain wistful melancholy feeling even way back with Don't Bother Me. As he got further into Indian music, diminished chords, and spirituality, that feeling was still present but with greater depth to it, and by All Things Must Pass there were also elements of Americana, Gospel, Folk, etc. Plus of course a bit of whimsy.
Everything that had influenced him up to that point came together in the most beautiful way, and it created a sound which was specific to him. I see these artists as people drawn to the feeling he captured -- embracing slowness, quiet, contemplation, and a fragility which is almost ghostly. At the same time full of emotion and tenderness.
There's a handful of other artists I wanted to mention. They'll be in Part Two!
NOTE: This post became super long, so I decided to split it in two parts!
When I first got into The Beatles it was during the height of Indie. I remember more than any other song Long, Long, Long stuck out to me because it sounded incredibly modern and would've fit right in with the type of music which was popular in the late 00s-early 10s. What I didn't realise was there was in fact a reason Long, Long, Long sounded like these modern artists. lol
Years later I was looking for information on All Things Must Pass and came across this quote from music critic John Bergstrom:
It’s easy to overlook All Things Must Pass‘s musical influence, too. How many guitar-driven, echo-drenched bands have come around since, mixing powerful rave-ups with moody, reflective down-tempo numbers and a spiritual bent? Say what you want about ELO, but My Morning Jacket, Fleet Foxes, Grizzly Bear, and the rest more than make up for it. Furthermore, one listen to “Let It Down”, and you’ll understand a big part of how “Dream Pop” came to be.
You can read the whole article here. It was written in January 2011 and gives an interesting idea of how much the reputation of ATMP has grown since then. Going back to the above quote, I was quite struck by it. Somehow I had never really thought about the wider impact ATMP had. Critics and biographers would talk about what a wonderful album it was, but I never saw them make those connections. Nevertheless it made sense (aside from the ELO dig).
That being said, I wanted to find more evidence. Bergstrom doesn't elaborate further, so one could easily think this was merely another case of a critic giving a Beatle credit where it wasn't warranted. Any attempts to search for "George Harrison + Dream Pop" only came up with articles citing Bergstrom as the source of this claim.
So I decided to take a different approach and looked into individual artists, starting with those listed by Bergstrom.
Jim James of My Morning Jacket does in fact adore George and ATMP in particular. He speaks at length about his admiration here and here.
Harrison died in 2001, not long after James discovered All Things Must Pass, so for him “it took on this cosmic thing, this extra sadness, because I was just so in love with this music… It’s crazy because [the album] is so long, but the whole thing is just so deep and so wise, and there’s some of it that’s so silly and childlike. It’s really a bold, brave statement from somebody that was so successful. ”All Things Must Pass" was important enough in James’s musical evolution that in 2009, his first solo EP, Tribute to, consisted entirely of Harrison covers. “My Sweet Lord,” in particular, is in constant rotation. “The word ‘God’ or the word ‘Lord,’ to me, means a more universal consciousness. I believe we are all God and that God is love and God is everything.” he says. “With ‘My Sweet Lord,’ I just feel this universal wash of love. There’s a certain hypnosis; it’s almost like air to me. It sustains me and keeps me alive the way really no other song has, because it doesn’t project itself. Alice Coltrane’s music is similar to me, where there’s this beautiful expansion of consciousness and love and god and awareness—this deep ache of what we go through on Earth, trying to understand our role in the cosmic scheme of it all.”
With Fleet Foxes it was more tricky. The closest I came to direct evidence was this quote from guitarist Skyler Skjelset:
"When I was younger, I would go through phases of being obsessed with different guitar players. Some days it would be George Harrison, other times it would be Neil Young. I think the real catalyst for starting the band was that we simply enjoyed doing things together and playing the kind of music we liked was more fun than anything else could have been."
Furthermore, former member Father John Misty is a big Beatles fan and his solo album Mahashmashana is very much influenced by ATMP.
With Grizzly Bear I think Daniel Rossen's solo EP from 2012 speaks for itself:
Comparisons between Grizzly Bear and ATMP also came up in reviews. More crucially, both of these bands were majorly inspired by Elliott Smith -- a huge George fan.
"Elliott Smith just may prove up to the task. For everything it can mean this year, he is the songwriter to beat, a waltz-loving, George Harrison-quoting, profane craftsman" - SPIN's 1999 profile of Elliott Smith
"The singer-songwriter talks about his upcoming album Figure 8 and its being rockier than his previous work; his love for George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass; recording at London's legendary Abbey Road; peoples’ perceptions of his happiness or otherwise; moving from Portland to New York to Los Angeles; his previous album XO being more produced and slick... and his favourite Beatles songs." - Rock's Back Pages (16 December 1999)
Next I want to get into the "Dream Pop" claim. Now, there's a contentious debate regarding what Dream Pop is, where it came from, and who exactly fits into Dream Pop/Shoegaze/Indie. For the sake of keeping things simple I'm going to bundle them together.
I'll go further into Big Star's connection with George in a later post, but for now I want to mention the song Try Again (1972) which perfectly encapsulates his influence on them. Big Star are considered one of the precursors to the Dream Pop/Shoegaze/Indie sound.
Galaxie 500 were a late 80s-early 90s band again very formative.
Damon Krukowski: I guess by the time we got around to putting out Today, we thought we had stronger songs than ‘On The Floor’. I think it was maybe inspired by George Harrison; songs like ‘Alive Without Travelling’ (sic, The Inner Light), where it’s just this drone. I think I speak for all of us at the time that George was our favourite Beatle.
Naomi Yang: Yes! George is still my favourite Beatle!
DK: No objection here.
- TheQuietus (Oct. 2025)
A more recent example would be Beach House. They love George, and somewhere out there is an interview where they mention that although they primarily get compared to Cocteau Twins, ATMP was the vibe they were aiming for.
One of the ones we became infatuated with during the early days of our friendship was “All Things Must Pass” by George Harrison. I think it had commercial success at the time but it was never on the level of all the other Beatles’ success. And the whole record is one of those records that start to finish is completely incredible. There’s not a bad song anywhere. This is the title song, “All Things Must Pass.” - Beach House, WTMD 89.7
Another is Weyes Blood, especially her album Titanic Rising:
During the height of the pandemic Angel Olsen put out a cover of Beware of Darkness on Instagram. Later, she released the album Big Time, and while promoting it continuously brought up George as one of the people she listened to most for inspiration. She talks about her love for ATMP here.
All Things Must Pass is something I always listened to in the car, in the van, or in the bus or wherever I was. Just an incredible record. In different times of struggle or heartbreak in my life, I’ll always revisit it. It’s the perfect record for “You’re almost out! You’ve made it out of this thing.” A lot of the songs are about loving someone and falling in love too. But those feelings are really similar to me: the feeling of falling in love and that feeling of really finding your way through something. You kind of fall in love with yourself and life again, and you start to hear things that people are saying differently. You’re tapping into synchronicity, and you’re able to be open to hear people that normally you’d be too wrapped up to hear. That record is really perfect for that mood or that moment that really encapsulates that experience [...] [With All Things Must Pass], it’s never been, “Oh, the way it’s recorded at this studio — with this person and the energy they had and Eric Clapton coming in.” It’s never been about that stuff for me. These songs are really special and really pure — this person is really trying to find peace within themselves. Maybe the world has been dealing them one thing after another, and they have to continually try to find that peace, which we all have to do. I really relate to that. Also, it just sounds fucking good. It’s so good. [Laughs.]
Side Note: Big Time was produced by Jonathan Wilson who often works with Father John Misty. WIlson is a big George guy.
“I’d thought of [Forever Means] as a kind of nod to George Harrison, who I’d been getting back into during the pandemic as I was finally calming down and finding moments of peace with myself." - Angel Olsen
I want to be clear that I'm not trying say George should be credited with inventing these genres. I personally don't believe music works that way. More like -- I think George has always been able to capture a certain wistful melancholy feeling even way back with Don't Bother Me. As he got further into Indian music, diminished chords, and spirituality, that feeling was still present but with greater depth to it, and by All Things Must Pass there were also elements of Americana, Gospel, Folk, etc. Plus of course a bit of whimsy.
Everything that had influenced him up to that point came together in the most beautiful way, and it created a sound which was specific to him. I see these artists as people drawn to the feeling he captured -- embracing slowness, quiet, contemplation, and a fragility which is almost ghostly. At the same time full of emotion and tenderness.
There's a handful of other artists I wanted to mention. They'll be in Part Two!
The anniversary of George's death is coming up soon. Normally I would put together a post of quotes around a certain theme, but this time I felt like trying something different.
I started this blog sometime in 2013, and it's been so interesting to see the change in how George is perceived over the years. Throughout the 2010s there was a reevaluation of George which took place, but this eventually gave way to him being considered overrated.
For a while I've been curious why it's so difficult for fans to settle on a nuanced take of him. He was either the best or not good at all. Then something occurred to me: There's never been much of a discussion on how George influenced the culture we're currently surrounded by.
Well, that's not entirely true. He's been credited for bringing world music, meditation, yoga, etc. to the mainstream, and there's always been mention of the Concert for Bangladesh. Generally though his shadow of influence stops there.
There's been a lot of praise for All Things Must Pass but not much explanation of why it was important and why it continues to be relevant today. George will rank highly in Greatest Guitarists lists, but this is often met with confusion because people aren't aware of how much of the music they currently love is connected to him. They believe it's purely because he was a Beatle. In the film industry too, Handmade Films is respected for getting beloved films like Life of Brian and Withnail & I made, but there's not been much consideration of the long-term impact this had on British culture.
With all that being said, my goal is to cover these topics in the next few weeks. Anybody who's sent me an ask will know I'm not good at writing quickly, but I will do my best! I'm not planning to be the final word on this by any means, but it will hopefully get the ball rolling.
Ringo Starr, Confident and Sober: Rolling Stone’s 1992 Feature Story
But does it bother you to see John Lennon become an icon for people like Albert Goldman to attack?
John wasn’t an icon when he was still here. He was a man, you know. An amazing man. But that’s what happens. If James Dean were still around, maybe he’d be a fat old man. It’s harder for those who stick around.
Is that why Paul McCartney has done so much press trying to change the perception of him as the lightweight of the pair?
Yeah, but that’s Paul’s problem. He wants to be known as the arty one, the one who did it all – which I think is not true. But it’s also not true that John did it all, either. You’d have to ask Paul about that.
You played with George onstage recently. How would you describe your relationship with him at this point?
Friends. Old friends. We’re not close like we were. I mean, I love George, but we don’t hang out with each other. If I’m upset or hurt or happy or whatever, he’s not the one I call anymore. Neither is Paul. But if I’m in London, we’ll have dinner. And the other day when I was doing interviews at the Bel-Air Hotel, he happened to be there, too, and he popped in on an interviewer. The guy didn’t know what hit him. He said, “So, what’s your question?” And the guy didn’t say anything. So we’re pals from way back, but you know we’re not as emotionally close as we used to be.
In the tense postbreakup days, you had the reputation as the one everyone still liked.
Well, I was easy. I would go to everyone’s house. Nobody was ever that angry at me. And it was an interesting place to be, in between those feuding writers, even though that wasn’t as bad as people say. But they were fighting for position more than I was. Also, I was a people pleaser who always wanted things to be cool and happy even when they weren’t.
Last time I talked to you, however, things were tense with you and Paul McCartney. How are things now?
They’re up and down. Right now they’re okay. I’m not really close to him anymore. I sent him a copy of the new album. Linda calls Barbara a lot. But basically things are the same as they were.
Is it safe to say that the tensions come down to money?
The tension is certainly around money. We haven’t brought Yoko into this yet. Since John died, the four of us have been arguing about Beatles-related business. And now the three of us and Yoko have these meetings with all our lawyers and accountants and business people. We’ve been having these meetings for twenty-two years. It’s getting better, but it’s slow. Of course, we’re not even there at these meetings. We tried that once years ago, and it didn’t work.
From an outsider’s perspective, it seems so sad that money could divide all of you. Not too many people could understand what you all have been through.
Yoko will never understand it, either. She just happens to be holding me ransom right now, and there’s nothing for me to do about it. She said no, and that’s it.
What did she say no about?
She and Paul are mainly having one of their battles, and I’m brought into it because I’m one of them. It reminds me of the time American Express refused to give me a card, because John owed them money. So it’s not just fans who lump us all in together.
RINGO STARR: I don’t want to play those big stadiums like you play. [laughs]
TOM PETTY: Well, that’s because you’re already rich.
STARR: I’ve just heard that you’ve got a new deal. You must be loaded.
PETTY: Well, I’m just doing interviews now.
STARR: So am I. that’s how well-off we are. Of course, Mr. Harrison, the billionaire of life, has just left town.
PETTY: Yeah, ol’ one-gig-a-year guy.
STARR: One gig every seven years.
PETTY: I heard you got onstage at [London’s Royal] Albert Hall recently with George.
STARR: That was such a good show. It was great because Joe Walsh opened, and Zak played with Joe. That was a real thrill to see. I went with the kids and my ex-wife and friends. I was there just to watch. The show went so well—George was just groovin’. He should have taken it on the road. I told him that. He should be doing what god wants him to do: perform. So then Joe sauntered off-stage and said [mimicking Walsh], “George wondered if you want to come on.” It didn’t take much coaxing, and I got up for the last two numbers.
PETTY: Well, Mike Campell [guitarist in Petty’s band, the Heartbreakers] was playing that night, and he said when you came on that he almost had to just sit down and dig the rhythm ’cause you’re a really great drummer. The human metronome, I call you.
STARR: B.B. King called me the human grandfather clock.
PETTY: [laughs] And what did Timothy Leary call you?
STARR: Whaaaa!
PETTY: I got George playing the blues last night. We were jamming. He’s a really good blues guitarist. In all the time I’ve known him, he’s never broken into that.
STARR: Thank god he’s playing the blues and not that bloody ukulele that he loves so much.
PETTY: Well, we went through a few years of that. I’ve got four ukuleles at my house just for emergencies, you know.
STARR: In case George gets withdrawal.
-- New Again: Ringo Starr by Tom Petty (June 1992 issue of Interview)
John Lennon and George Harrison during the Imagine sessions
(26 May 1971)
Timothy White: What was it like working with John on Imagine in 1971? You contributed slide guitar or dobro to "Crippled Inside," "How Do You Sleep?" "I Don't Want to Be a Soldier Mamma," "Gimme Some Truth" and "Oh My Love."
George Harrison: It was nerve-wracking, as usual. Previously I'd worked on "Instant Karma." At that time very strange, intense feelings were going on. Sometimes people don't talk to each other, thinking they're not going to be the one to phone you up and risk rejection. With John, I knew Klaus Voormann, the bass player, so I could at least ask what was going on over at his little 8-track studio in his house at Tittenhurst Park, and how Klaus was doing. John said, "Oh, you know, you should come over," so I just put me guitar and amplifier in the car.
I turned up and he was openly pleased I came. I enjoyed "How Do You Sleep?"; I liked being on that side of it with Paul [chuckles] rather than on the receiving end. Moreover, I was earnestly trying to be a slide guitar player at that time but I always blacked out at solos, especially live ones. I seemed to have no control over what was happening and my mind'd go blank. That was one of them where I hit a few good notes and it happened to sound like a solo. We did all that work in one day.
-- Timothy White interviews George Harrison for Musician magazine (Nov. 1987)
“We’re going up to Benares. It’s either now or twenty years from now, and I’m not sure if I’m going to be around twenty years from now. We’re targets for assassination, you know.”
“Oh, George, stop that,” Olivia said. “Just stop that!” (1976)
[Alistair Taylor] recalled an incident [in 1963] when The Beatles were flying to London from Liverpool Airport, but George hadn’t turned up. The others went to London, leaving Alistair to contact George.
“I rang him at home to find out what was going on. George said, ‘I don’t want to be a Beatle’. In a panic, I went round to talk to him and George said he didn’t like all the pressure and the frenzy of the crowds and the fans. Thankfully, he came to his senses and the matter was never discussed again until they finished touring in 1966.” - Liddypool: Birthplace of The Beatles
"When the door, in fact, did open, a girl reached in, grabbed George’s hair and tore at it. Out in the crowd, pushing our way through, I noticed blood trickling down his forehead. If you’re interested in that kind of frenzy, where love turns to violence, you should read a Greek tragedy called The Bacchae. Two thousand years ago, its author, Euripides, could tell you all about Beatles fans, only his hero had not just his hair but his arms and legs pulled off. Mum kept the head." - Victor Spinetti
"He had a very, very bad experience in Manila and that remained unforgettable for George. He was a very slight man, very light in weight, and the fear of being vulnerable to fans, and crazy people, remained with him.” - Pattie Boyd
"Nobody else knew that George Harrison was in fear of his life ‘cause he actually had some poison pen letters saying, 'You’ll die in the next five days,’ and the assassination of Kennedy wasn’t so far away. It was pretty hair raising stuff." - George Martin
"Those tours in the United States were crazy. The first big American trip, when we arrived in San Francisco in 1964, they wanted to do a ticker tape parade and I remember saying 'No, no, no.' That imagery of people being shot. Kennedy, Beatlemania, madness. Talk about pressures!" - George Harrison
"He used to enjoy a drink at the Row Barge pub in Henley but he didn’t go into the town as much after John Lennon was shot.”
Mr. Robb’s wife, Mina, added: “That really shook him — he used to say that if he landed after a flight, and came out onto the steps of the plane, he would be wondering which person might have a gun.” - A Generous Man
“I remember him visiting me on tour in Germany. He would come to the side of the stage and look out. But he really didn’t want to go on. He would go, ‘It’s so loud and smoky, and they are acting so crazy. I just feel better back here.’" - Tom Petty
"By the time Tania and I arrived at Friar Park, George and Liv were patched up, but angry, like all victims of violent crime, and in need of good friendship. Nobody had more good friends all round the world, and flowers and faxes poured in. We played guitars and sang. George was very shaken. I had never seen him like this. He needed constant hugs." - Eric Idle
"When he had that dreadful thing happen to him in 1999, when he was stabbed in his own home, he was so emotional and was very vulnerable. He phoned me and said he couldn’t stay in the house, saying ‘Jackie, you know all the hotels in London, I thought the Grosvenor House would be good because I’ve been there with you’. I told him 'you can’t go there because that boxer who bit someone’s ear [Mike Tyson] is living there and there’s media around all the time. You can’t go there, George’. And he said, 'Oh, can I come to your house?’ So he, Olivia and Dhani came to live with us for a little while. He was a gentle man and to be violated in that way was a terrible thing for him." - Sir Jackie Stewart
"You know, I was lying there and I was thinking, 'I can't believe it. After everything that's happened to me, I'm going to be murdered. I'm being murdered in my own home. Since I'm being murdered, and I'm going to die, I better start letting go of this life, and I better start doing what I've been practicing to do my whole life — so that I can leave my body the way I want to." - George Harrison
"George died two years after the stabbing incident, under much more peaceful circumstances… and that’s really the core story of 'Heroic Couple.' 'The point of writing that poem, and I didn't really know the point of it until I got to the end, was that it wasn't long afterwards that death proper — not imposter — happened,' Olivia explains. 'You know, if [the home invasion] would've been his actual death, that would've been just the worst thing. The fact is, when George did die, he did it on his own terms. He was very much in control and in charge of that day. And he felt that John Lennon was really cheated. I mean, it's one thing to have your life stolen from you, but to also have stolen the opportunity to leave your body in a way that would be beneficial? If you believe that the way you die is important — and I do, and George did — then to be robbed of the chance to leave how you want to leave is just the worst. And that's why it was almost like George earned the death that he had. Had he died that night [during the knife attack], I don't know how I would [have] recovered from that. It just would've been awful. It came close. But the point of writing that poem was really to say that George didn't die that way.'"
- Olivia Harrison interviewed by Lyndsey Parker
Interview with Ray Coleman for Melody Maker (6 Sep. 1975):
Do you ever play Beatles albums, George?
"No, I haven't played one for years."
How do you remember them when you look back?
"The Beatles? Oh, I think the Beatles were, or are, (long pause), very good. One of the points everyone should remember about the Beatles is that we did work hard, you know, and we made a point of trying to broaden our own experiences on our own, to overcome as many limitations as we could. And there were quite a few restrictions in those days, like four-track recordings and all that sort of thing. And we used to play in those huge places with 30-watt amplifiers. I think the Beatles generally were very, very good. On reflection, the music was okay, and we kept improving. But then, you know, the days were different. The musicians around today have so much more to listen to. They're bound to end up sounding different because they're exposed to so much, not so much innocence around now. Probably trying to come through and make its mark."
(60s musicians talk of groups. 70s musicians refer to bands.)
Individually, though, how do John, Paul, George, and Ringo stand up to comparison with the Beatles?
His answer was slow and deliberate. "I suppose to look at each one of us individually now. Even if we were rated as big solo artists, each one of us may not be as heavy as the Beatles were collectively, but at the same time, no less heavy than any heavies who are around. We probably didn't even realize ourselves how heavy we were. I mean, it's only now, when you study the documentaries, that you realize how big it all was. At the time, we were going through it, and we were cut out from so much."
But he stressed that he liked what the Beatles stood for, today, even if at the time, he had reservations about the life they led, being buffeted from hotel room to concert hall to airplane. "The Beatles did put out great songs, good music, good innovative stuff, all the way. We knew our next album would sell a lot just because it said 'Beatles' on the front. But it didn't stop us trying. The albums went up in levels of improvement. Musically, even though I haven't much desire to relive it, it stands up pretty well. I should imagine. The Fab Four fan club -- Great!"
Did he feel competitive towards the other three, and that each was trying to prove a solo point?
"No, I don't think so. I'm always pleased when the other three do something good. We were always a little bit attached to each other. We all naturally watch what the others are up to -- and not very easy. now John's got himself locked into the States.
Does the label of an ex-Beatle hanging around his neck for the rest of his life worry him, as he was the least enthusiastic Beatle and always sought stature apart from the fame?
"I didn't like it, no. That was the point when we all split up, when we grew older and realized the restrictions from every point of view -- as people and as musicians. The only thing I have against being an ex anything is that it doesn't give me much thought to the present. That's all. I mean, I'd rather be an ex-Beatle than an ex Nazi! But more than anything, I'd rather just be here now, not so much as an ex.
Was it, then, the teenagers' adulation, which finally drove the Beatles apart, for it was certainly George Harrison's pet hate.
"It was nice at first, but the mania seemed to get out of proportion. That wasn't what I was looking for. Some people like that sort of thing. I like to be successful and popular. But then there comes a point when it's unhealthy that people think you're something you're not, and the next thing is that these fans get out on a trip and limit what you may be, in their eyes. You know, it's just a concept they create, a concept of what you are, and then they start the bit that says, 'Aw, they're not what they used to be.'
"Well, I used to say this, and I say it again now, we might not have been what we used to be. What those fans mean is we're not what THEIR concept thought we were. People put you into a pigeon hole, and you've got to fight your way out of it for their good as well as your own. All I ever wanted from that scene was to remain an individual, and of course, being a Beatle placed a severe restriction on individuality in the eyes of those screaming fans."
Top: George Harrison, Carl Perkins, and Jeff Lynne in the studio at Friar Park (late 80s), Bottom: George and Carl sitting with their guitars during the Carl Perkins and Friends Special (1985)
I think about this quote a lot. You can read the whole article here. It's really moving.
The show featured Johnny Rivers, Dwight Yoakam, a reunited Stray Cats, Graham Nash, Stephen Stills and Steven Tyler. It was a great musical moment, but a bittersweet celebration for two sons who lost their father and a man who lost a close friend. Harrison got word to the three that he wanted to see them again. He arrived at their hotel incognito and met them in the lobby alone. The four spent six or seven hours talking about Perkins and their favorite music. "The visit was really about George wanting to grieve and be close to somebody who was close to Carl,” Henley said. “He wanted to feel close to Carl.” “I knew how much he loved my daddy, and I knew how much I loved him and was already missing him,” Stan said. “There was a connection there, and he just wanted to reminisce.” He also asked a lot of questions about Perkins’ health: the throat cancer, the strokes, any other symptoms, what to look for. It was almost like Harrison had a premonition that his own days were numbered, Stan said.
“He felt like he was sicker than he was being told he was,” Henley said. “He said they had found a spot on his left lung, and they said there was nothing to it. But he wasn’t too sure.” Doctors later found cancer there and in Harrison’s brain.
In Los Angeles, Harrison was able to find closure with Perkins’ death, and the boys in the band were able to repay Harrison for being at the funeral. To show thanks, Stan gave Harrison a guitar from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, the custom-made Peavey that Perkins used on the Cinemax special. Harrison recognized it immediately. “Tears started to roll down his cheek, and he was genuinely touched,” Stan said.
-- W. Matt Meyer, The Beatle … with a little help from his Jackson friends
Harrison is unlikely to veer towards today's fashion and music when seeking to add names to his roster. Unlike his contemporaries, who felt they had to make the scene with statements about the state of pop in the embryonic '60s, George was merely a staunch Tamela Motown supporter who later went Indian, and that was just about that.
"I'm still basically in favor of the thing I liked in the old days, Smokey Robinson, Stevie Wonder, those sorts of things. No, I've never even been interested in Black Sabbath. Heavy metal? Oh, that's what they call it? Oh no.
In some ways, I feel I'm out of touch, particularly with what's going on in America. There's still a chance of picking up something fresh and interesting, possibly because the industry is much bigger, making it less likely for these groups to form cliques. England does tend to get very clicky as far as I can see. To tell you the truth, I still never heard the Bay City Rollers."
He did add that he would like to hear them, just to form his own opinion. "But I must say, I'm not all that keen on the Slades and the Muds. I think out of the English people I've heard so far, the best one probably is not so commercial, though, is Peter Skellern. He reminds me of Harry Nilsson, full of potential. In fact, I just played one of his new tracks, 'Make Love, Not War'."
-- Interview with Ray Coleman, Melody Maker (1975)
We're all alone. Every one of us. There may be a million of us all in the same room having a party. Elton John, Duane Eddy, Duane Allman, John Lennon, and the rest. They can all be clustered in the room thinking they're all together. But there's 1000 alone people together, and that's why I thank the Beatles for taking me through 10 years of bad reviews in order to appreciate that it's not the reviews that count, it's the response. So at the end, it's really -- if you face yourself, you can face anything.
-- George Harrison, RKO General Radio Network Special of the Month (Interview with George & John 1974)
On the anniversary of his death, Olivia and Dhani mounted a wonderful memorial concert for George at the Royal Albert Hall in London. Never have I seen so many grown men in tears. George had a capacity to reach in and take your heart.
-- Eric Idle, Always Look on the Bright Side of Life: A Sortabiography
George Harrison talking about current affairs/climate change during his interview with BP Fallon for RTE Radio 2 Ireland - The BP Fallon Orchestra. (Oct. 1987)
Int: It’s possible - you know this as well as anybody does. It’s possible that all of you will be best known not for your individual work but because you were Beatles. Does that trouble you at all?
George: No, not at all because who are we anyway, you know? I mean, even if they knew me as me - George Harrison - they don’t really know me. It doesn’t matter what they remember you for. It’s really what you attain for your own personal self that counts.
“Y’know, it’s something that other people see us as The Beatles, and I try to see us as The Beatles, but I can’t.” - Scene and Heard (1967)
“To be able to deal with these people thinking you were some wonderful thing - it was difficult to come to terms with. I was feeling, you know, like nothing. Even now I look back and see, relative to a lot of other groups, The Beatles did have something. But it’s a bit too much to accept that we’re supposedly the designers of this incredible change. In many ways we were just swept along with everybody else.” - Rolling Stone (1987)
“I don’t mean to sound mysterious or try to baffle anyone, but when people come up to me expecting me to be just like what they thought a Beatle would be, they’re disappointed. I never was a Beatle, except musically. I don’t think any of us was. What is a Beatle anyway? I’m not a Beatle or an ex-Beatle or even the George Harrison. I’m just a man. Very ordinary.” - Men Only (1978)
“Like Chance, the main character in Being There (one of George’s favorite books), he wanted to just ‘be there’ in his garden, in his solitude, with his hands in the dirt. He didn’t want to ‘be’ anything but a man who loved music, the earth, women, and God.” - Chris O’Dell
NOTE: This is an article from The Guardian posted in 2007 which I happened to come across. It's long but a lovely read. Enjoy!
With love from her to me
In 1963, like many girls, Lilie Ferrari had a crush on George Harrison. When she wrote to him, she scarcely expected a reply, but an admiring letter did come back - from his mother. It was the start of an extraordinary, enduring correspondence
In 1963, I was 14 and, like almost every girl in Britain, I fell in love with a Beatle. "My" Beatle was George Harrison. From the first photograph I saw of the Fab Four, I was drawn to his dark eyes, serious face and enigmatic demeanour. He rarely smiled, even when he was being funny, and this made him all the more mysterious and enticing. Compared to the uncouth boys I had to deal with at school every day, George was a delicate, idealised vision of what I thought boys ought to be like. If he had pimples, I never saw them. If he swore, I never heard it. I never saw his hair greasy, his armpits damp, his shoes scuffed. In short, he was perfect.
We had just moved to Norwich, and I had missed a Beatles concert by a few weeks; but a girl in my class had somehow obtained all the Beatles' home addresses (I daren't think how, looking back) and was selling them at playtime for half a crown each. A bargain, I thought, handing over my two-and-six eagerly. Immediately upon the exchange, 174 Mackets Lane, Liverpool, became the repository of all my fantasies.
That day I hurried home to compose my first letter to George. I had discovered the joy of words, and wasn't about to be intimidated into single syllables by writing to a Beatle. I don't remember exactly what I wrote, but in spite of my best intentions I suspect it was a gauche jumble of repressed adoration, along the lines of "You're the best Beatle" and "I much prefer From Me to You to Come On by the Stones". I don't remember waiting for the postman every morning. By then the Beatles had started their journey into the stratosphere (it was the year the term Beatlemania was coined) and I guess I assumed I was too small a cog in the great Beatle wheel to merit any kind of response.
But one day a letter with a Liverpool postmark did come, addressed to me in careful looped handwriting. I opened it with trembling fingers and, instead of a letter from George, found one from his mum, Louise.
After a few niceties and general bulletins about "the boys'" progress, a question leaped off the page: "Are you," she asked, "by any chance related to a writer called Ivy Ferrari, who writes doctor-and-nurse romances?"
I bellowed a great scream that brought the family running: my mother was Ivy Ferrari, a romantic novelist churning out Mills & Boon paperbacks with titles like Nurse at Ryminster, Doctor at Ryminster, Almoner at Ryminster. I couldn't believe it - I might be a fan of her son, but Mrs Harrison was evidently a fan of my mother. I felt as if I had been raised from one among millions to a special place in Mrs Harrison's head.
Of course I wrote back to tell her that I was indeed Ivy Ferrari's daughter. I was happy to have made the connection - but so, it seemed, was she. I couldn't quite grasp it. Beatles were glamorous; my mum was a harassed woman with inky fingers, unruly hair and scruffy skirts who sweated over a typewriter all day. How could they compare? In the past I might have been indifferent to the overwrought love lives of the fictional staff of Ryminster hospital, but now they seemed to take on a glamour of their own. George never wrote to me, and my mother never wrote to Mrs Harrison, but the two of us began a correspondence that lasted for several years - years that took her from the Mackets Lane council house to a smart bungalow in Appleton, George from gangling teenage guitarist to married man, and me from schoolgirl to young woman.
I sent Mrs Harrison signed copies of my mother's novels. She sent me signed pictures of the Beatles. I asked her intense questions ("Which one is your favourite, besides George?" Answer: "John, because he does the tango with me in the kitchen and makes me laugh"). She interrogated me about the mysteries of my mother's creations, such as whether my mum knew any real doctors like Dr David Callender. ("He was fairly tall and tough-looking, with tawny-brown hair and a lean, intent face. His eyes were dark and compelling, so full of fire and life they drew me like a magnet . . .")
On my 15th birthday, Mrs Harrison sent me a small piece of blue fabric, part of a suit George had worn at the Star Club in Hamburg. Once, I got a crumpled newspaper cutting containing a photo of the Beatles with their scribbled signatures on it, and a big lipstick kiss, which, she said, had been planted there by John Lennon.
She sent me notes that George wrote her on used envelopes: "Dear Mum, get me up at 3, love George." She wrote on the backs of old Christmas cards and odd bits of paper - I never knew why. She told me funny stories about her upbringing in Liverpool, a world of men in caps on bikes and old ladies with jugs of gin. I told her about my life in Norfolk, about my sisters, my pony, the dog, my mother. I told her things I didn't tell anyone else - my fear of failure, my terrible, hidden shyness, my longing to have real adventures, lead a different kind of life to the quiet, rural existence I endured. She was my invisible friend, the silent recipient of everything I had to say.
She always answered my questions, and offered up teasing glimpses of life as the mother of a superstar - "I'm sitting by the pool with Pattie. Had a lovely time at the film premiere" - remarks tantalisingly combined with more mundane observations about knitting and cakes. Of course I never mentioned "real" boys who had caught my eye - that would have been somehow unfaithful to George. That was the only omission I can remember - apart from never articulating how I felt about her son, because I wanted her to think of me as a "normal" girl, and not the wide-eyed obsessive I really was.
After several years the gaps between our exchanges grew longer, as real life began to get in the way of teenage fantasies. I can't remember which of us wrote the last letter, but by the time I was 18 and working in London, the correspondence had petered out.
Soon after we had slipped from each other's lives, I found myself standing a few feet away from George himself, in the Apple boutique on London's Baker Street. He looked tired and unapproachable. The George that I had conjured up in the kitchen of Mackets Lane, propping notes for his mum on the mantelpiece, seemed a kinder, gentler prospect than the gaunt-looking superstar standing before me who might just tell me to get lost. He was close enough to speak to, but I've never been sorry that I backed away in silence.
Mrs Harrison died in 1970 when I was 21. I remember reading about it in the papers. I grieved for her on my own, and remembered her small acts of kindness to a girl in Norfolk she had never met. Her son, of course, made an enormous mark on my life without ever knowing it. I even married someone who embodied all the things I thought George represented: quiet strength, spirituality, the same dry humour, the dark good looks. My husband Colin had been, among other things, a roadie and the owner of punk record shops. Fortunately, he also had a sense of humour and a high level of tolerance. He learned to live with the omnipresence of George, and would sign cards to me "Love from George and The Other One".
As the years passed, my life came into focus and George receded. He married, had a son, as did I. I went back to live in a Norfolk cottage, while George retired to a Gothic mansion in Henley. In 1994 I went to Liverpool for the first time with Colin, as a football supporter rather than a Beatles pilgrim: Norwich City were playing at Anfield. I took time out to stand in front of 174 Mackets Lane and tried to imagine Mrs Harrison sitting at the window in the front room, answering my letters. I wanted to weep, but I didn't. When Norwich scored the winning goal that afternoon and we leapt to our feet, I cheered instead for that kindly Liverpudlian who took the time and trouble to light up my teenage years.
I've gradually lost the priceless relics of those years. They would have made me rich if I hadn't been so careless with my belongings; then again, I would never have sold them. So my side of that eccentric correspondence has all but disappeared, along with my youth.
In September 2001, Colin died of Hodgkin's disease. A month later, George was dead, too. It felt as if two distinct parts of my life had ended all at once: my dreamlike girlhood, and my real, adult life with a beloved partner and friend. But every day in my study at home, I look at something that binds these two parts together. It's a photograph of George taken in 1962 in Hamburg by Astrid Kirchherr (girlfriend of "fifth" Beatle Stuart Sutcliffe). Colin secretly sought it out, bought it, hand-made a frame for it, and gave it to me on my 40th birthday. It is one of my most treasured possessions.
