It's George and Ringo and 'Yesterday' Again...Almost
By Bob Micklin
Newsday
August 2, 1971
The right answer to why 20,000 of us jammed Madison Square Garden last night, and another 20,000 crowded the Garden yesterday afternoon, would be that we all really cared about what's happening to 7,000,000 refugees of a cruel civil war between East and West Pakistan.
The real answer is that most of us came to see half of what used to be the supergroup of all rock supergroups, the Beatles. George Harrison and Ringo Starr performing together on a concert stage for the first time in six years. A backup band of super players such as high-priced talent as Eric Clapton on guitar, Leon Russell on piano and electric bass, Billy Presson on organ, Klaus Voormann and Jesse Davis on guitars, Jim Keltner on drums, and oh, those extra added attractions: Ravi Shankar and his classical Indian raga music as the opening act, and Dylan, Bob Dylan, the guest star of all guest stars, walked on stage about two thirds of the way through the evening, clutching his acoustic guitar, his harmonica strapped to his chest, joining with Harrison, Starr, and Russell, what had to be one of the great impromptu quartets in the history of rock concerts.
Yes, that's why we were there. We knew that both concerts were charity events, fundraising sessions for those war victims. None of the musicians got a penny for his work. And after Shankar and his quartet of Indian virtuosos finished their opening set, grim movies of the plight of the refugees were flashed on two large screens over the stage. Yet few of us seemed to notice. We were too eager, too restless. We wanted to see those Beatles. Besides, we had done our part. The tickets were bought, and 40,000 people at two concerts meant at least $300,000 worth of aid for those tragic people whose images flickered on the movie screens.
We were ready to be pleased. We expected one of the heaviest musical events we'd ever seen. We were not disappointed. It took us a while to relate to Shankar's hypnotic music, but Ravi told us at the onset that he expected that. "We are making no political statements," he told us. "We are artists." Shankar is a Bengali, and the Bengalis are getting the worst of it in the war. His fierce, terribly intricate playing revealed some of his feelings about that situation, and before he was through, his artistry had moved us, but Ravi knew what we really wanted. He finished his set in little more than a half hour and told us that he realized we were waiting to meet the Beatles.
They came out quickly: George in a white suit and orange shirt, carrying a white guitar; Ringo heavily bearded and dressed in all black; Clapton in faded denim, the rest of the band in casual attire. In addition to the featured side men, a band of seven horns and saxophones were on one side of the stage, a seven-voiced chorus on the other, a few guitar noodlings, and they were all into "Wah-Wah", one of Harrison's tough bluesy numbers from his hit solo album of last year, then into "My Sweet Lord", with Harrison on vocals and Clapton's whining guitar doing the obligato. We were enraptured. "Look at them", we said, and look at us listening to them. It's too much. We loved it, and when Billy Preston took the spotlight, we loved him too.
But then there was Ringo. We knew from just a few bars of intro that he was going to do his hit song, "It Don't Come Easy." We cheered for Ringo sitting up there behind the band and pounding away on the drums in his simple Beatles style. We cheered his flat, unpretentious voice. It suddenly occurred to one spectator that we had really come to cheer, not to listen.
Leon Russell. We were ready for him too. His sinister mustache, his impassive face, his long, long blondish hair. Leon Russell jumped into the Rolling Stones' " Jumping Jack Flash", blasting off with raw screams and taking us all with him on the excitement trip we had expected all the time. George returned us to the center. However, one of the nicest things about last night's concert was watching George Harrison. No matter who was playing, who was singing, George was the leader.
He followed Russell with a fine version of "Here Comes the Sun", played and sung quietly but with a gentle lyricism that was lovely. Scarcely missing a beat, he brought on Bob Dylan, and while the other musicians and singers left the stage, Harrison and Russell picked up guitars, and Ringo joined them with a tambourine, a magic moment. Dylan at the microphone, running down his classic songs. "A Hard Day's Rain Gonna Fall", "Blowin' in the Wind," "Mister Tambourine Man", "Just Like a Woman." While Harrison, Starr, and Russell provided the accompaniment. Dylan raised a clenched fist to all of us as we cheered him while he left the stage.
The finale George back in the smoky blue-white spotlight to sing "Something", surely one of the greatest of Harrison songs. Oh how we cheered him as he and the others left the stage, to which they soon returned to give us a stomping version of "Bangladesh", a new Harrison song honoring the ambition of East Pakistan to establish a new nation, but that's not why we cheered. We cheered for the Beatles, or at least half of them, and for a beautiful concert. And then we filed out of Madison Square Garden into a sticky, humid New York City night, and we were happy.
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