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| Photos taken by Howard Burman |
By Patty Dewing
The World of Rock Magazine
December 3, 1974
Mystical glyphs lit up on either side of the stage as the lights went down in The Arena, and the audience of about 10,000 people who had paid $7.50 - $9.50 for their seats hushed in anticipation. A spotlighted banner bearing the image of a seven-headed black horse slowly unfurled above it, the prelude to flashing red lights and the air-splitting sound of hard rock and sirens that suddenly pierced the darkness.
George Harrison and his friends had taken over the stage, driving away at the instrumental piece with which they opened the show. "Hello, St Louis!" Harrison greeted the static audience, which had come to its feet. That was "Harrison's On Tour Express," said the slightly built mustache musician. (He recently gave his height as five foot nine and weight at 117) stood left of center stage, giving center to guitarist Robben Ford .
Harrison wore faded jeans topped by a patchwork tunic over a blue knit shirt. His dark hair fell in graduated length from chin to the top of his spine. The voice in which he spoke was breathy from a rasp of vocal fatigue that roughened his British intonation (His concert schedule is a grueling one.), making some of his speech unintelligible. There remained a certain lyricism while he spoke, although his singing voice proved to be hoarse when it could be heard above the over-amplified instrumentation of the group's first set, a collection of Harrison songs. But that was not important. The silent "Dark Horse" Beatle, who had gone unquoted by the press during the Beatles August 21, 1966 concert at Bush Stadium, was getting his message across in other ways.
The Post Dispatch had captioned a photo of its August 28 picture section, "George is the Beatle for girls who preferred the rugged, truculent type"( read: rugged, fierce and cruel. Perhaps a result of his silent stare). There appeared to be nothing of that in his gentle, smiling demeanor and graceful movements, and it wasn't a four-way message, as he was no longer flanked by three other Beatles. The 31-year-old performer had not come back naked into the world of entertainment. The changes of time had not stripped away his expert guitar musicianship or the incomparable Beatle style.
The Beatles never gyrated. They used deft Chaplin-esque movement. (Chaplin is one of Harrison's idols) and Harrison was moving like no one else on stage. His guitar swung freely from his neck, his arms easily pushing it from side to side. His steps were punctuated by quick rubber knee kicks and bounce toss of the head. It was not difficult to see why the Beatles had inspired successful animated cartoons for both TV and movies.
Only when Harrison sang his own Beatles composition, "Something," did he seem nostalgically alone without John, Paul, and Ringo. As in the case of the Marx Brothers, no one Beatle will ever equal the unparalleled creative innovation the four of them produced together. But each one had enough innate talent to have gone all out and individually made it on his own and Harrison, with the help of his band, was far beyond simply making it on that Wednesday night in November.
In addition to the assets Harrison retained from Beatlehood, there had been added the influence of Eastern music to his sound and the excellence of seven outstanding musicians, Chuck Finley on trumpet and trombone. Robben Ford, formerly of the LA Express on guitar, Andy Newmark on drums, Emil Richards on percussion. Tom Scott, founder of the LA Express, on sax and woodwinds, and Willie Weeks on bass. All have played with outstanding rock, jazz or blues groups.A special guest keyboard artist, Billy Preston, who has recorded both solo and with the Beatles for Apple Records, rounded up the group.
Harrison hand-picked these men for both their musical abilities and their ability to get along with both him and the 16 Indian musicians in the orchestra headed by the other guest star, his dear friend, Robbie Shankar. Since it is Harrison's first tour of the US and one of a series during the past few months, which are his first public appearances since the Bangladesh concert in 1971, he is anxious for things to go well. Among the things he hopes to accomplish on this tour is to "learn how to play in a band again and to get over that separation I feel from my performances." He also hopes to come to a point of doing this in a relaxed state, a point at which he had not fully arrived during the first half of the St Louis show.
Following his songs, Harrison introduced Billy Preston, who was outfitted in a white suit, to do the "Boogaloo," which turns out to mean "Will it Go Round in Circles." And then he presented Ravi Shankar, "without whom my life would be miserable," he said, plaintively. Dressed in the costumes of India. Shankar, his orchestra, and female vocalist, which included his sister-in-law, Lakshmi, gathered around the stage, and as they did, a transformation took place in Harrison. He looked almost as if someone had lighted a candle inside of him, and this incandescence would stay with him throughout the rest of the concert.
It was through this concert that Shankar and then with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, Harrison became a devout participant in the Krishna consciousness movement, a non-sectarian religious philosophy growing out of the Vedic literature of India. The movement is based on the teachings of Lord Krsna, the Godhead personality, who, 5000 years ago, spoke the Bhagavadgita and His Apostle, Lord Caitanya, born on the lunar eclipse of February 1486, who preached the importance of chanting the holy names of God. In this age of Kali or quarrel, this chant called the 16 names of the Lord, and the Holy Name of God is the maha-mantra, which Harrison incorporated into his masterpiece, "My Sweet Lord". Hare Krsna, Hare Krsna, Krsna Krsna, Hare Hare. Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare.
Of his involvement with Shankar, Harrison says, "In 1966, through the grace of God, my life was blessed and enhanced from the sudden desire to investigate the classical music of India. Although intellectually, I could not comprehend it, the music, which happened to be Ravi Shankar on the sitar, made more sense to me than anything I had heard in my life. When I heard Ravi saying he felt he had only started, I was overwhelmed, humbled and encouraged to try and understand the music and the man. Much more miraculously, I met Ravi Shankar and felt an even greater attraction to him, the music, and later the tradition and self-discipline of India, without which my life would be empty and pointless."
It was from the Indian people that Harrison adopted his manner of touching his hand over his head and making a short bow to his audience when they applauded him. He also observes the strict vegetarian diet.
Harrison and the band remained to play with the Indian orchestra in an East-West composition called "Zoom, Zoom, Zoom," during which the smell of incense cut through acrid air that was heavy with the scent of that other stuff. Then, the orchestra moved into more traditional Eastern music, which included a drum solo by the renowned Alla Rakah, a drum duet, and music in which Tom Scott and Emile Richards participated with Scott, making a particularly outstanding contribution on the flute.
Midway through his set, Harrison took over to announce that the Shankar Family and Friends album was now available on the Dark Horse label, his own new company, and added a bit of dry British humor by mimicking the hawkers "at your dealers now!" He also pushed the show's program, making note that the proceeds went to support an Appalachian hospital which was badly in need of the help.
After the Shankar numbers, which included a song called "Krsna, I am missing you", the cast retired for intermission. The second half of the show opened with an instrumental song. A friendlier, more relaxed George Harrison introduced his band and then himself, "I'm Neil Diamond," he said, with mild amusement. The instrumental had been heavy on jazz, but Harrison was now exchanging his electrical guitar for a 12 string classical and the audience seemed to sense something special was going to happen.
It did. "Give Me Love..." Harrison sang, The hoarse is gone and the soul in his place. The man and his music were one. His rendering flawless and an immeasurable outpouring. The audience gave him that for which he asked the band then proceeded to play an instrumental, "which you can bop about to." A composition supposedly invented during rehearsal called "Sound State of Mind". Next came a raga rock blues rendition of Lennon McCartney "In My Life", one verse of which Harrison concluded by singing, "In my life, I love God more."
Then he sang his new single from the album by the same name, "Dark Horse." To an inquiry from the audience as to its availability. He mockingly answered, "Apple label distributed by Capitol Records." While he sang, the banner hanging overhead was given the spotlight.
After this set, Harrison again turned the stage over to Billy Preston, who did a rousing version, a version of "Nothin' from Nothin'". Then the singer who had portrayed WC Handy as a child in the movie St Louis Blues ripped off his jacket, grabbed a tambourine, and brought the audience to its feet with a high-stepping dance designed to "chase those St Louis Blues" done to a compliment of the "Space Race"
. The show closed with Harrison thanking the St Louis audience for its good vibes and his singing, "What is my Life Without You." Then the stage went black, but the lights did not come up. Everyone knew there would be an encore for one song had yet to be sung.
All around the dark arena, people were standing with lighted matches, cigarette lighters, burning paper cups, anything to keep the faith and bring Harrison back to them (this must have been especially gratifying for the purpose of his music is yoga-- union). A united audience waited for him on its feet as the raga strains of the band, which had returned to the stage, wound their way into the haunting voice of George Harrison singing, "My Sweet Lord."
He soon had everyone joining in on every part of the song, Melody, Jeudo- Christian hallelujahs, the Vedic maha-mantra, a jubilant George Harrison became the guru of his audience, Lifting his spirit higher with each chorus as he led these disciples who were standing there on their chairs and bleacher seats, and they're clapping with hands extended above their heads. When he left the plane was high enough, he looked over the din and, to the beat of his own clapping hands, gave them their mantra, Krsna, Krsna, Krsna, Krsna. Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. Krsna Krsna Krsna. He admonished them to chant it. "You'll get there." He promised that.
He softly disappeared as the sound of the band's music rushed faster and faster across the darkened stage and into its disillusion and recorded classical Indian music. The dazed audience silently walked away under the now blazing arena lights. On August 30, 1974, George Harrison described his professional ambition to "do a worthwhile job and then leave it vaguely completed." On November 20, he had certainly fulfilled it.
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