1. "

    After three years of court battles, public and private acrimony, and millions of dollars, the final dissolution of The Beatles was about to happen. With just a few more kinks to iron out, the dissolution meeting was set to take place at The Plaza hotel in New York City - ironically, the first place the group stayed in America in 1964 (and just a short walk from our apartment).

    It was scheduled for December 19, 1974, when George would be in New York on his Dark Horse tour. Paul and Linda McCartney came in, and of course John and I were already here. Julian was with us for the Christmas holidays, and for the moment, all was calm, all was bright. John was even planning to join George on stage during his concert at Madison Square Garden.

    At the plaza, George, with his lawyer, David Braun, and business manager Denis O’Brien; the McCartneys, with Paul’s in-laws and lawyers, Lee and John Eastman; Ringo’s lawyer, Bruce Grakal, and business manager, Hillary Gerrad; and Neil Aspinall, with two teams of lawyers for Apple (one for the U.S. and one for the U.K.) gathered around a very large table to get all the signatures on the paperwork dissolving the partnership. Ringo wasn’t there because he was ducking a subpoena from Allen Klein, but he had already signed the documents back in England. They had him on long distance to confirm he was ‘alive.’ John’s lawyer and advisor, Harold Seider, was there along with his team, David Dolgenos and Michael Graham. Paul and Linda had a camera set up to document the historic occasion.

    Harold told me that after a while, George said out loud what everything was thinking:
    ‘Well, where’s John?’
    ‘Good question,’ replied Harold, who was wondering himself.
    Harold left the room to call John, who wouldn’t get on the phone. I was home with John. It was up to me to tell Harold that John had decided not to go to the meeting at The Plaza. Although John was concerned with shouldering a major tax burden because he lived in the United States, I could sense there was a little bit more on his mind. His official reason for not showing was ‘the stars aren’t right.’

    George, already in a dour mood because his tour was getting poor reviews and his voice was shot, went ballistic. He started yelling at Harold and blamed him for John not coming. Soon, all the other lawyers erupted at Harold. George then picked up the phone and called John, but got me. I asked if he wanted John, and he barked, ‘No! Just tell him whatever his problem is, I started this tour on my own and I’ll end it on my own!’ and slammed the phone down. John was listening over my shoulder. Paul and Linda came by the next day, realizing John was upset with the proposed deal. Paul assured John ‘we’ll work it all out.’

    George’s rage didn’t last long. When Julian went to George’s concert the next day, Neil Aspinall, John, and I went to talk with Lee Eastman, Linda’s father. While there, Julian called with a message from George: ‘All’s forgiven. George loves you and he wants you to come to his party tonight.’ We did go to the party at the Hippopotamus Club, where George, John, and Paul hugged.

    — May Pang, Instamatic Karma: Photographs of John Lennon

    (Source: harrisonstories)

  2. thoseliverpoollads2:

    Photos of George Harrison by Jurgen Vollmer in the spring of 1961 at the Rabenstraße Stop in Hamburg.


  3. George Harrison - I Don’t Care Anymore (2014 Remaster) Apple Years

    Gallifreyan Gallade: "As the title suggests, “I Don’t Care Anymore” was not among its composer’s favourites. Harrison, who can be heard saying, ‘Okay, here we go, folks/ Got a B-side to make, ladies and gentlemen / We haven’t got much time now, so we’d better get right on with it,’ thought so little of the track he refrained from mentioning it in his autobiography and, until now, it was never released on CD. Nevertheless, the song is classic ’70s-era Harrison.” [x]

    Wikipedia: "I Don’t Care Anymore" is a song by English musician George Harrison released as a non-album B-side in 1974. The song was recorded during the sessions for Harrison’s Dark Horse album and issued on the album’s lead single, the A-side of which was the song "Dark Horse" in the majority of countries internationally but "Ding Dong, Ding Dong" elsewhere, including the United Kingdom. "I Don’t Care Anymore" is a rare Harrison country composition and was performed solo on acoustic guitar.

    […] Musically, Harrison biographer Ian Inglis recognises “I Don’t Care Anymore” as an example of the “synthesis of jug band, skiffle, and country traditions” that Harrison had grasped via influences such as Bob Dylan, the Band, Lonnie Donegan, David Bromberg and the Lovin’ Spoonful. In the “growled gibberish” that opens the track – “Two old cowpoke went riding out one cold December day" – Inglis finds a parody of Stan Jones’s 1948 song "Riders in the Sky". In the song’s verses, Harrison states a willingness to "kick down anybody’s door" in his determination to pursue an adulterous affair:

    If your man should get uptight
    'Cos we've been alone for most the night
    Now, I realize your needs are all right
    You can get back up them stairs, you know, I don’t care.

    Inglis notes a rare “wistfulness” in the words “There’s a line that I can draw / That often leaves me wanting more”. These lines appear in the middle-eight, over a chord sequence that author Bruce Spizer describes as “pure Harrison”, despite the obvious Dylan influence. Harrison’s musical biographer, Simon Leng, acknowledges the “Dylanish upmarket busking” in Harrison’s performance, similar to his 1973 B-side “Miss O’Dell”, but adds: “The difference is that this time there’s a menacing undercurrent of aggression and just a hint of one drink too many.”

    Read More


  4. "I thought a lot about whether to do ‘My Sweet Lord’ or not! because I would be committing myself publicly and I anticipated that a lot of people might get weird about it. Many people fear the words ‘Lord’ and ‘God’ - makes them angry for some strange reason.

    The point was, I was sticking my neck on the chopping block because now I would have to live up to something, but at the same time I thought, ‘Nobody’s saying it; I wish somebody else was doing it.’ You know, everybody is going ‘Be-bop baby’ - OK it may be good to dance to, but I was naïve and thought we could express our feelings to each other - not suppress them and keep holding them back. Well, it was what I felt, and why should I be untrue to myself? I came to believe in the importance that if you feel something strong enough then you should say it.

    I wasn’t consciously aware of the similarity between He’s So Fine and My Sweet Lord when I wrote the song as it was more improvised and not so fixed, although when my version of the song came out and started to get a lot of airplay people started talking about it and it was then I thought ‘Why didn’t I realise?’ It would have been very easy to change a note here or there, and not affect the feeling of the record.

    I thought My Sweet Lord was a good ‘record.’ In the recording industry there are ‘songs’ and ‘records’ - anyway I thought the overall sound of the record was as important as the words or tune - the atmosphere really. I wanted to show that ‘Halleluja’ and ‘Hare Krishna’ are quite the same thing. I did the voices singing ‘Halleluja’ first and then the change to ‘Hare Krishna’ so that people would be chanting the Maha Mantra - before they knew what was going on! I had been chanting ‘Hare Krishna’ for a long time and this song was a simple idea of how to do a Western pop equivalent to a ‘Mantra’, which repeats over and over again, holy names.

    I don’t feel guilty or bad about it, in fact it saved many a heroin addict’s life. I know the motive behind writing the song in the first place and its effect far exceeded the legal hassle.” - George Harrison, I Me Mine

    "See, in 1968 the big song was ‘Oh Happy Day,’ and that was the song for me. It was so up and positive, and I thought it was great to be able to do something both spiritual and commercial. What’s the point of doing something no one’s going to hear? So I really wanted to come up with something like that, and incidentally the chord changes on ‘My Sweet Lord’ are the same as on ‘Oh Happy Day.’ Anyway, I was playing ‘hallelujah’ over and over again on the guitar one day, and I put in ‘hare krishna’ and it fit; both on syllables, rhythm, and in the meaning of the glorification of God. I thought it was a good way of getting ‘hare krishna’ into the song. Then I did some scat singing to tie all the parts in together, and what had been a big chorus eventually got refined into a sequence for recording.” - George Harrison, Hit Parader (May 1977)

    (Source: harrisonstories)


  5. The Soundcloud link of the Dark Horse early take (a bonus track on the Apple Years box set), which I posted the other day, was only available to people in the U.S., so here it is again. :) 

    By the way, this isn’t the bootlegged demo which has been around for years. It’s never been released before.


    (Source: harrisonstories)


  6. Anonymous said: Where is the image with Eric idle taken

    Which one do you mean? 

  7. Q: What do you remember of the last couple of years when it was all falling apart? Do you remember the Delaney and Bonnie tour?

    George: Oh I remember that! Nobody ever really mentions that. I saw the first opening night at the Albert Hall. Ringo and I went, sat in a box, watched the show. Eric had brought them over having just done a tour with Blind Faith and they were the supporting band and Eric had always said he was more interested in their band, who were a real working band, whereas Blind Faith were just put together because they were all famous. So they were playing on the stage at the Albert Hall. And I remember two occasions being at the Albert Hall thinking, That’s a great band, I’d love to be playing with them. One was The Band when they played with Bob Dylan and the other was the Delaney and Bonnie show with Eric. After the Albert Hall they played The Speakeasy and I went down there, and then they said, OK, are you coming on the road with us? And the next morning this big bus pulled up outside my house with all these musicians on their way to Bristol to start this British and European tour. And I thought, Why not? And I just grabbed my guitar and an amplifier and went with them. I think it was ‘68 (sic, ‘69). Can’t remember. That was fun for a while because I could just be at the back - you know, long hair and a guitar - and join in with the band. And I was supposed to be producing a Billy Preston album so I took Billy with us to Sweden and Denmark. It was good fun. (Q magazine, 1988)

    "Him coming along was the best thing that happened to that group, it was the only time that egos quelled and there was peace. Having him with us was good for the soul, man. George pretty much glowed. He carried this sense of well-being and quietude with him wherever he went. There was this aura about him - like walking into a monastery, a sense of peace. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all holier than thou - that’s not what I’m talking about, but he had an air about him, and that was a constant for the whole time I knew George. He took his time to talk to everybody, he’s laughing and having a good time, playing and singing and doing his thing. He became another one of the Friends, it wasn’t like having a Beatle in the band. It was a helluva tour, a lot of fun, and just what George needed after all that hoopla with The Beatles; to get involved with a bunch of redneck rock and rollers and just have a good time." - Bobby Whitlock, George Harrison: Behind the Locked Door

    (Source: harrisonstories)


  8. "The house [Friar Park] teased out the prankster in Harrison, the same strain which prompted him to tear off Delaney Bramlett’s trousers, put a flaming ashtray on his head and, years earlier, to play ‘gear’ practical jokes with Gerry Marsden. ‘This shows the playful side of George,’ says Bobby Keys, recalling the first time he arrived at Friar Park. ‘He said to Mal, “Okay Mal, take the guys to their rooms.” Mal said, “Follow me, boys.” This place had a subterranean cave network underneath, so we followed Mal down into this cave. thinking “The guy’s a Beatle, but this is still a little weird.” Eventually in the middle of this labyrinth of caves George jumped out and tried to scare us: “Woohoohoo.” Well, it didn’t really scare us much. So that was his introduction.’"
    — Graeme Thomson, George Harrison: Behind the Locked Door

    (Source: harrisonstories)

  9. I want you in the morning, girl
    I love you
    I want you at the moment I feel blue
    I’m living every moment, girl, for you

    (Source: trianglemix, via dolenz)


  10. "

    David Bromberg first met Harrison during final sessions for Dylan’s Self Portrait album and was surprised by the star’s knowledge of his music: ‘I met him at Columbia Studios, and he sang me a song I wrote, and told me that Bob taught it to him. It floored me.’ He later discovered that all the Beatles were interested in his music, particularly “Sammy’s Song,” a barrier-breaking tale of a young man’s sexual encounter with a prostitute. As one of Bob Dylan’s favorite musicians, Bromberg is well placed to comment on why Dylan struck up a partnership with Harrison: ‘Bob is a very sensitive guy, with big ears. He had this strange image, but he’s good man, a man of great integrity. I’m sure he had a lot of respect for the things George did beautifully - for one thing, he asked him to play on his records! He didn’t tie himself to George because he was famous. He and George met at a certain level of sincerity.’ But David Bromberg was also struck by the superstar’s diffidence: ‘My impression of George when I first met him was that he wasn’t really extremely confident, didn’t understand what all the fuss was about and felt like maybe people were mistaking him, or making a mistake, or seeing something that wasn’t there. That was the feeling I got from him.’

    It was a picture of a man who felt he couldn’t offer what the mores of the day demanded: ‘Everyone was into hot licks, but he didn’t have any. So I feel he didn’t have a glimpse of how really wonderful a musician he was…He was very conscious that he couldn’t read music and that he couldn’t play searing solos off the top of his head. What he could do was worth more to me. He was a beautiful musician, extremely musical. The “Moonlight Sonata” is a very simple thing to play on the piano, but it’s beautiful. And beauty is not about technique.’

    — Simon Leng, While My Guitar Gently Weeps: The Music of George Harrison

    (Source: harrisonstories)