Horns by Tom Scott (1974)

 

Horns by Tom Scott

The Harrison Alliance

March 1975

Harrison or Beatles? 

     "The audiences have been mixed," Scott explained between sets in Montreal. "Radically different from city to city. If they keep an open mind, anybody will walk away knowing something's going on, even if they don't understand it all. Maybe sometime it will sink in. 

    "There isn't a lot of yelling out Beatles songs. They've been pretty tolerant. Bill Graham was concerned. To Bill, the main reason people came was because George was a quarter of the Beatles, and he thought George should play more Beatles tunes, but George would rather have less people come and have them be interested in what he wants to present to them. That's a dangerous or risky attitude. It's not the most commercial approach you can take, and that's why people say the tour was terrible, not because anything's wrong with the music. It's a dynamite band. We get on stage and we know it's good. People can say what they like. The material isn't important. It's what George wants to do, and I'm behind him."

     "Rehearsals for the tour took place at the A & M soundstage for three weeks," Tom Scott reminisced. "The plans were made last fall. It was a spontaneous thing. We knew of five or six songs we definitely wanted to do, so we started with those. "What is life?" "In My Life", the John Lennon song, which he always wanted to do. "Sue Me" and " While My Guitar Gently Weeps " were some of the things he knew people would want to hear. Yet he could still feature me on one song and Billy Preston on three songs. He wanted to give the impression of a band with him as host, soloist, singer, and guitarist."

     And off they went, plagued by untrue press reports, but pleased by the music being made by a troupe that included 16 Indian musicians playing along with Americans like Willie Weeks, Andy Newmark, Chuck Findley, Billy Preston, and Jim Keltner, creating a new unbounded music that defied labeling as easily as the men involved defied natural boundaries.

 Tied to Beatle images  "It's not true that the tour's been bad," Scott explained.  "I was very disappointed with Ben Fong-Torres, who wrote Rolling Stone's analysis of the Harrison Tour, for using comments many of us made, and making them sound negative. Naturally, there have been some things wrong with the tour. He took a large part of that article from only the Vancouver show, the very first show. Everyone's first show has problems with sound and programming. In fact, the music is sensational. The people who say it's terrible wanted to go and see a Beatles medley. Those are the people who will walk away unsatisfied, but they have to try and understand that George is an ex-Beatle. He has other interests, other musical interests, other musicians. He prefers that to the Beatles for musical reasons. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. If he wanted to, I think that would be great, but he does not. So let the guy do what the heck he wants. He's a tremendous talent. 

    "Right after the first show, there was a reorganization of the set, and that's what pisses me off about Ben. He traveled with us from Vancouver to L.A. long after we'd made all the changes. Ravi's section was moved, and at the end of the show, rather than doing material from the new album, which were the unfamiliar, we put Billy's hits just before "What Is Life" and "My Sweet Lord." The changes were so minor that I can't believe anyone made a big deal about it. The only places we had trouble were in the very beginning of the tour. There was confusion revolving around the advertising. People in line in Vancouver were saying, "Is he going to sing?" I've seen very conceivable opinions written about Joni, myself, and George, and it's all part of the game. You hope that most people get the message. 

    "Another problem has been George's voice because he hasn't gone out on tour in so long. He strained himself, so his voice has occasionally been very hoarse. Lately, it's been superb."

     Secular album  Perhaps more than anything else, the biggest surprise on Dark Horse is the lack of songs dealing directly with religion. "Maya Love", a soft, funky rocker spiced by superb Billy Preston piano riffs, follows "Bye Bye Love" almost as an answer to the prior song's chanted desperation.  Then on side two, "Ding Dong Ding Dong," and the title track, and a song George originally wrote and played on for Ron Wood's solo album Far East Man are all simply good songs. 

    Dark Horse brings back memories of the White Album, as Chuck Findlay, Jim Horn, and Scott dart through the intricate melody on flutes. Scott again excels on "Far East Man", with a horn solo that would vindicate any context in which it was put. Only the final track, "It Is He Jai Sri Krishna", deals directly with Harrison's religious beliefs. "He who is complete free worlds at his feet", Harrison sings, and the song, as the capper to the album, gives the impression that Harrison belongs among the free.

     "He loves to discuss religion," Scott said. "I spent many early mornings talking with him about what religion means to us and how it relates to trying to be a rock and roll musician.

     "There are no simple answers, but George, rather than in his previous albums where he tried to verbalize some of those questions and thoughts, was more concerned with writing good songs than having a good time. You don't start out with a preset tone for an album. You write what you feel at the moment. You get 10 to 12 tracks, and as George did, pick the eight or 10 best. Those tunes which he may like because of the melody, or a solo, or just as a tune, may not have anything to do with the philosophical meaning of the song."

     That, more than anything else, is the truth about George Harrison's latest excursion into the material world. As he explained in his Los Angeles press conference prior to beginning the long tour, he just wants to be a musician again, to bring his music to people without being chained and bound by expectations. Towards that goal, he's surrounded himself with musicians of the highest caliber. Men like Tom Scott and Billy Preston are the finest examples of pure creative musicianship. 

    George tends to throw a lot of inside jokes into his albums. In fact, the inside of the album is a picture of George in Friar Park with Peter Sellers, but their backs are to the camera. They're quite good friends. The line "Leo, what say we promenade around the park," comes from the Zero Mostel film The Producers, one of George's favorite pictures, which he carries around with him on a video cassette. He's seen it hundreds of times, constantly quoting from it, and Monty Python, his favorite comedy troupe.

     On the liner notes, it appears that Pattie Harrison and her old flame Eric Clapton are the only backing musicians, along with an enigmatic performer. performer named Rhythm Ace, but as Tom Scott explains, that's not the case. "Rhythm Ace is an electronic machine that plays any rhythm: a boogaloo, a cha-cha, or a rumba. I suppose a lot of people will think it's a person. George decided to do that song by himself late in October when no one else was around. We'd all gone home. Pattie and Eric are not actually on the track. George just scribbled out those liner notes almost as he was getting on the plane door, and he hadn't slept from mixing down Dark Horse. When you're that out of it, you scribble whatever comes into your head. Clapton isn't even on the record. Let alone Pattie!"

Colorful shirt

 

Dueling Guitars

 

RKO General Radio Network Special of the Month (Interview with George & John 1974)

RKO General Radio Network Special of the Month Interview

December 1974

New York City

May/June 1975 Harrison Alliance

Transcribed by Angela Stellato

    The dark Beatle, the mystical Beatle, the slender guitarist who went to India with three other young musicians and came home with Hari Krishna; the Eastern Beatle, who staged a concert for Bangla Desh and raised a fortune for a country in despair. This is our special of the month. An hour with George Harrison and his surprise guest, John Lennon.

 The Tour. 

GH:     I felt, probably for three years, that this tour, you know, subconsciously, I felt it, the presence of this tour, in my subconscious, and it's been like bubbled deep down, and it's slowly been bubbled up to the surface. It's like a lot of forces and energies, you know? I don't really know.

     I mean, in a way, I decided to go on tour. I suppose you could say that, but in reality, it was like just outside energies and maybe subconscious desires, or, I don't know, but whatever it was, I felt it was coming for three years, and when it finally came, I thought, 'What am I doing? What am I doing?' It's mad, really mad. Such a big tour, because I didn't want to do the same thing. Like, you know, those hectic, really crazy tours, like in the old days, where you'd be left in a room for eight hours and they'd throw you a Hershey bar occasionally, when they remembered. I thought we'd do a tour play, maybe 10 cities, and take a lot of time to go to those 10 cities, maybe take two or three days off in between each city, so I could see a little bit of America. Maybe would go by camper or by train or something like that.

     Instead, it just got to the point where I thought, 'Well, if I'm doing it, I might as well do it', you know, in one shot, because once you get into motion, might as well do as many as possible. I have no idea who wants to see me and who doesn't want to see me. Which cities to play, what cities not to play. I just have a lot of concepts which I want to get rid of and which I'm getting rid of.

     Like one was when we went to Dallas or Houston, Texas, on the old Beatle tour. I remember both years, the first year we went to Dallas, we almost got killed. The second year, when we went to Houston, we almost got killed. So my concept of Texas has been wherever I go, I'm not going to Texas because it's so mad. You know?  I just remembered what happened there. And so I played, where was it I played? Oh, Fort Worth and Houston. And it was amazing. The change in five or six years in people's consciousness. It's incredible. I mean, it's like, say, four years ago, five years ago in San Francisco or Los Angeles. It's like that now in Texas; the feeling of the people, their appearance, and their behavior. It's great. You know, it was one of the really nicest shows. Fort Worth was really nice. And Houston, I really-- they're just--- I didn't have any of that old fear that I thought I might have.

     About what my feelings were about the tour, which I can relate the same answer to this thing about before, and that is that it just didn't have enough time. I've been so busy working this year that if I'd sat back and thought about it, I would have been petrified. I wouldn't have been able to do it. There have been moments where I thought, you know, a little bit of negativity has crept in and I have to try and squash it immediately because, well, you know, it's like Lord Buckley. He said, I don't know if you know Lord Buckley, but he said, (This is relating to what I'm talking about), but he's talking about love. He says it's like a beautiful garden. When you use it, it just grows and blooms, but when you don't, it recedes. So positive and negative is like that. It's like when you use a positive thought, it just blossoms, and it seems to uphold. And when you get negative and down, it just comes like creepers to strangle you.

 The First Family. 

GH:      We were just playing Salt Lake City, and during intermission, or between the two shows, somebody said, 'President Ford's son is here, and is it okay to bring him backstage and meet you?' And I said, 'Sure, sure'. I mean, I'll meet anybody. You know? They don't have to be the president's son, because I don't have any idea of the First Family or anything about President Ford. The only impression I had of him was that he was a person who was put in a job which he didn't particularly want, and maybe he really didn't need it all. In fact, he probably-- like the saying-- he needed it like a hole in the head. So I met his son, and his son was just fantastic. His son was just really, really nice and a very good guy. In fact, I got a really good feeling from him the first time I met him.

     I got a good feeling from Gerald Ford. I met him like I'm looking at you. I could look him in the eyes and felt that he was a decent human being. And it gave me hope. You know, it gave me hope because, I mean, not only is America like one of the heaviest places around this planet, but I mean, America has such influence on the rest of the world.  It's like you take it, just to  say a radio station. Now, who's ever's running the radio station-- if he's a guy giving off orders or giving a feeling to the member of the staff, it comes from the top. You know? If the Secretary is unhappy about the way things are going, you usually can trace it back to the top. If there's a good spirit in an organization or a business, it's usually because, from the top, the feeling is coming through. So that's what gave me hope --for America and for the world, because the world is influenced a lot by America.

 Current Records

GH:     I must say, there are so many records that I don't ever hear, Uh not because I don't like them, but because  I don't either hear them, or I don't have time. I'm so busy making records. I recently bought the new Maria Muldaur record because I liked something about her on her first album, the Reprise album. Maybe it wasn't her first overnight success, but the one I bought was the new album. I just got stuck on a track called "Cool River." And if you're listening, Maria, I love it. It's just makes me want to cry. "Cool River." I don't know if you've heard that. It's on her new album. But I read somewhere in the review of the album that she never wrote the song herself. Somebody else wrote the song. But I just love that song, except for one line in the second bridge, she says, 'I have tried praying to God and His saints on high, but they don't hear me.' The only thing was, if I did a cover version, I'd have to change that line to 'I've tried praying to God and His saints on high and I know they hear me.'

 Sue Me, Sue You Blues

GH:     It's taken a long time being sued over that song, "My Sweet Lord". I'll tell you how I wrote the song. I went up to see Delaney and Bonnie and friends, which was with Eric Clapton. He was one of the friends playing at the Albert Hall in London. Sometimes you go to a show. I don't know. I feel this as a musician. I go to a show, and I know this must be going on while I'm doing the show now in America, sometimes I go to a show and I think, 'Wow,' you know, 'I'd just love to be up there playing with them. This is really nice.'  And other times I think, 'Ooh, I'm glad I'm not in that band.' 

    But Delaney and Bonnie and friends with Eric, it was so good, you know? It was like coming home. All that was their first album when they had everybody. They had Jim Gordon and  Carl Radle, and they had Bobby Keys and it was a good band. It was a really good band at that time, Delaney and Bonnie -- it was great. They played really well.

     And I sat there with the Ringo in a box at the Albert Hall. I just thought, 'Wow', you know, 'I'd really-- that band's great. I'd really like that.' And the next day, they just pulled a bus up outside my house and said, 'Come on.' I got my guitar and went and did a tour of England, and then I went around Europe to places, and I remember Eric and Delaney and Bonnie were doing interviews with somebody, and I think it was either Copenhagen or Gothenburg. It was somewhere in Sweden. I was so thrilled with it, with "Oh Happy Day", it really just knocked me out, you know, that idea, that song, and I felt a really great feeling of the Lord, you know? And I was thinking, 'Oh, I'm gonna write an 'Oh Happy Day' song.'  "My Sweet Lord."

     So they're suing me over a song written by a guy who died a while back, who I'd never even heard of anyway, although I knew the song. I'd heard the song, and the problem being that I wrote "My Sweet Lord" in the dressing room while Delaney and Bonnie were being interviewed. It turned out to be not an "Oh  Happy Day" after all, it turned out to be more like a song that the Chiffons did-- "He's So Fine." --"It takes so long, my Lord,."

    That was the quickest thing I ever wrote. No "Ding Dong Ding Dong" was the quickest song I ever wrote. It took me three minutes, except for it took me four years of looking for a thing, "ring out the old ring in the new ring out the false ring in the true" before I realized it was a hit song. And I'm being a bit, precocious saying "a hit song", because it is so-- I mean, it makes me laugh. You know, it's just so simple -- which reminds me again of Lord Buckley. He says it was just like a jitterbug. It's so simple, it evaded me. Well, that song evaded me for four years.

 Enter John

GH:  Let me introduce you to the one and only. John Lennon. You're just coming in here  to shout things, talking about the Beatles.

JL: What's that? 

GH: Anyway, we remember now. I remember this. I remember this. Now we made a record, and John wrote a song which was quite similar, and we did it as an album track and avaded or avoided making it into the next single. In fact, he gave it to some people who no one's ever heard of. That song was, "There's a Place". Remember? (singing)  'There's a place. La, la, la.'

JL:  I never heard it that way! (laughs) 

GH: But somebody else did it as a single but we just played it on the album.  But it was like the one before it, the mouth organ and the bit.

JL: Yeah, I did one about when you change, you know. They attacked the Stones who've  just made one of the greatest albums that they ever made, mixing in, like the beauty, and saying it's the same old stuff. It isn't the same old stuff. It's great Stones. And if you do change it, then you attack the change in it, right?

GH: Yeah.

JL: And all the audiences have been to all his shows (because I have a lot of good spies), and the critics don't like it because he's changed it. If he did it the same, he wouldn't have been attacked. 

GH: Yeah.

JL: But he changed it.

GH: There's lots that I  really thought were pretty good, and there's ones which were sensational. To try and put them into, you know, quickly to say which ones I really enjoy. I enjoyed things like 'Strawberry Fields.' I enjoyed the ones which were inventive and which were new. You know? Like I enjoyed 'Norwegian Wood' because I felt where it was  coming from. I remember, you know, I was alongside John or Paul as they were writing things. Occasionally, they might have said a line or a word, like my mother would say a line or a word which I used. But that, you know, I can think of a million times when I wrote a few lines or verses to "Eleanor Rigby" or something else too. They didn't really help me that much. John helped me as much as he said; he gave me a tip, which wasn't a real tip. It was just, you know, he was being observant, and that is what once you get in the motion of starting it, it's handy to try and finish it, complete it. 

    I remember the day when John did an interview with a certain magazine and said some things. And then I remember the day when he disagreed with what he said. But the man who interviewed him denied him the right to change his mind. Even though it was two and a half years later, he still went ahead and published something which John said he no longer agreed with himself on. Which means, the dream was over; yet certain people wouldn't allow him to have his dream over. 

JL: In other words, imagine if somebody-- if you accidentally banged your head and you shouted "OW!" And that's the end of it. Or you can go on for the next five years. And we all do that.

GH: 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.

The Garden Rocks with George

 

The Garden Rocks with George, Ravi 

By Patricia O'Haire

Daily News (New York, NY)

December 21, 1974

    The music was good, and the musicians were fine. For once, the sound system actually worked well at Madison Square Garden Thursday night for the first of the three benefit concerts given by George Harrison and Ravi Shankar. The other performances took place yesterday at four and again at 9pm.

     So why did the concert seem so uninspired? Blame the evening's major star, George Harrison, himself. Former Beatle Harrison was undoubtedly the attraction that lured most of the 20,000-plus fans to the Garden, but for a good portion of the evening, the other musicians on stage outplayed Harrison, outsang Harrison, and far outperformed Harrison.

     Too bad because Harrison could very easily be the most interesting of the four lads from Liverpool who did so much to shake up the music world a decade or so ago. He is the one who seems to be walking down the most open road, the one most agreeable to new musical ideas, the one who doesn't seem to be afraid of doing something different. And incredibly, he is also the one who doesn't mind sharing the spotlight with other artists.

     That worked to his disadvantage Thursday night. He opened the show half an hour late with "Something", and right away, it was obvious that he was not in top form. His voice cracked several times. He sounded tired, and he strained to reach the higher notes and didn't make them. His guitar playing sounded almost indifferent compared to the suburbs strumming of Robben Ford in the background.

     After a few other numbers, including "In My Life", written by "two old friends of mine" (John Lennon and Paul McCartney, whom he didn't name), he introduced Billy Preston for one number then brought out the 16-piece Indian Orchestra led by Ravi Shankar. They were excellent.

     The group has recorded an album entitled The Shankar Family and Friends, and most of the numbers they performed were from that album. Joined by some of Harrison's musicians, saxophonist Tom Scott and percussionist Emil Richards, the band managed a quite unusual blend of styles that might possibly be defined as raga jazz, especially the last number "Dispute and Violence". It was very easy to take.

     Later, the Harrison group returned to reprise some of his better-known songs and some he wrote for a new album. Finally, the group seemed to get everything together, and the musical excitement began to build. "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" got it started, and it reached a peak when the very fine keyboard man, Billy Preston took over the stage to play, sing, dance around, and get everyone moving. For the time he and Harrison did a few dance steps together on stage, the audience was on its feet screaming with joy. "My sweet Lord" put a fitting cap on the evening.

U.N. Meeting

 

Former Beatle George Harrison shakes hands with Kurt Waldheim, secretary general in the United Nations at the UN building in New York. Harrison will donate an expected $200,000 to UNICEF, the UN children's organization from two sold out New York concerts. 

A Pleasant Victory for George Harrison

 

A Pleasant Victory for George Harrison

By Jonathan Takiff

The Philadelphia News

December 18, 1974

    Preceded by reams of negative reviews. Dark Horse George Harrison pulled off a surprisingly pleasant victory at the Spectrum last night. No friends, it was not Nirvana personified, nor even the Inner Light revealed. Especially dampening the fire were the strained and often an often oft- keyed qualities of Harrison's vocals, showing off the fabled rock hero is just another mere mortal among men. His features creased and weathered by time. 

    But this concert was not the disorganized self-serving venture portrayed by the national music press on the occasion of the tour opening on November 2 in Vancouver. Harrison, it would seem, has taken heed of his critics. The show now moves at a speedy, entertaining pace. Harrison's lean portions, leaving you hungry for more, now concentrate on established hits. Those reluctant to dwell on his past glories, the former Beatle now designs to throw us a bone or four from the halcyon days, including a curiously suitable jazz-up rendering of John Lennon's "In My Life." 

    Some mid-tour, beefing up of his band, the addition of second drummer Jim Keltner and flutist Jim Horn has also had salutary effects, it would appear.

     In the midst of wailing reeds and brass arranged by Tom Scott and the super tight rhythm section, Harrison could hide his pipes' distress, talking his way through "Something" in a burlesque-ish Bob Dylan style, or more sincerely, in the testifying treatment of "My Sweet Lord" the concert single encore,

     Harrison makes the most points with the trademark sound of his sweetly weeping guitars riding the high end of the neck in a glissando of spare single notes or bluesy staccato attacks.

     In the fashion of his last public appearances, the monumental concerts for Bangladesh held on August 1, 1970 [sic] at Madison Square Garden, George Harrison's current venture strives for an electric variety show approach. As much as not the humble (and uncharismatic) Harrison falls into the shadows to play side man or cheerleader for his friends, Billy Preston, Tom Scott, and the Shankar family of Indian musicians. 

Showman supreme Billy Preston actually pulled the most enthusiastic response from the near capacity crowd, first early on in the proceedings, with "Will It Go Round in Circles", then nearing the final lap, with a gospel-tinged "Nothing from Nothing", and his hit instrumental "Outta Space." The latter is boosted by a bit of Rockettes terpsichord by Preston and Harrison.

 Aesthetically, the evening's zenith came in the East Meets West fusions of the 16-member Shankar ensemble, led by Lakshmi Shankar, in the absence of her ailing brother-in-law, Ravi Shankar. 

George Harrison Brings Little for Nostalgia Fans

 

George Harrison Brings Little FSor Nostalgia Fans

By Jack Llyod

The Philadelphia Inquirer

December 17, 1974

    George Harrison would obviously like to forget his past association with the Beatles, and you get the impression that he would like his fans to forget his former alliance too well. OK, one can respect the man's feelings in the matter, except for the fact that if it had not been for the Beatles, there would not be a near-capacity crowd on hand at the Spectrum Monday night with more of the same anticipated for two shows tonight.

     Harrison probably thought of it in different terms, but for most of those who showed up, this event marked the return of the Beatle, minus John Paul and Ringo. But  if they were expecting nostalgia, there was only a taste of it. Since George's chores with The Beatles were rather limited, they were kept in the background as a result of the dominance of Lennon and McCartney's writing.

     That was a long time ago, of course, and since the Beatles broke up about five years ago, George has emerged as the most serious musician of the lot, if not the most prolific. Since beginning his current tour, which began November 2 and concludes later this week in New York,( a total of more than 50 concerts) Harrison and the troupe have taken lumps from the audience and the critics. But Harrison's opening night in Philadelphia was greeted with more than a little enthusiasm. If the crowd came looking for a Beatle, they settled for George Harrison and the show he had prepared for the folks. 

    It opened 35 minutes late with Harrison, and the band composed of such high caliber musicians as Jim Horn and Tom Scott on reeds, Jim Keltner on drums, and Billy Preston on keyboards, laying on an instrumental. Then quickly came some nostalgia, "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" and "Something" from the Beatles era.

     The voice was a trifle horse, just a touch of Joe Cocker from the grind of touring for the first time in eight years. A few more newer songs, and then Harrison stepped aside for the Ravi Shankar group, minus Shankar, who was still recuperating from the illness which knocked him down in Chicago last week.

     A half-hour of Indian music was tolerated, perhaps even appreciated, by most of those in the audience with surprisingly good manners, contrary to reports from other cities. After an intermission, Harrison was back with "For You Blue," sung in The Beatles  Let It Be album. Then, "Give me Love". But basically, this was a George Harrison concert on his terms, at least, he gave the audience Billy Preston and the Shankar delegation and Tom Scott .Yes, and George Harrison mostly as Harrison now stands, take it or leave it, and it wasn't bad. 

The Dark Horse Succeeds

 

The Dark Horse Succeeds

By David Marsh

Newsday

December 16, 1974

    George Harrison decided to make his current tour as a sort of "declaration of independence" from the Beatles because he has been the chief naysayer to rumors of independent reunion for the "fab mop tops", as he elliptically referred to them yesterday afternoon at his first Nassau Coliseum concert. 

    And because he is also a heavy-handed evangelist for the Indian religious sect of which he is a member, it is not chic to enjoy his concerts. That's a shame because Harrison is playing his heart out on this tour. 

    Harrison assembled a fine band for the tour. It includes Tom Scott and Robbie Ford of the LA Express, the group that also toured with Joni Mitchell, Andy Newmark, and Jim Keltner on drums. And the legendary bassist Willie Weeks and Billy Preston, a star in his own right, on keyboards. It was Preston who got the crowd to its feet, but it was Harrison and his songs that kept them there.

     Unfortunately, Harrison didn't capture the crowd so completely until near the end of his two and one half hour performance. The earlier portions of the program were slowed down by the insertion of four raga-rock numbers written but not performed by Ravi Shankar, Harrison's musical guru. (George even referred to himself self as "George Shankar" at one point.) Shankar is recuperating from a bout of nervous exhaustion, apparently brought on by the long, arduous tour.

     After an intermission, Harrison returned and proceeded to rock with the selection of songs that ranged from early Beatles ("In My Life" by John Lennon, the only non-Harrison Beatles number in the show) to his current single "Dark Horse". Dark Horse is also the name of Harrison's new album and of the new record label for which he produces but does not record. It is a fitting name. When the Beatles split, Harrison seemed least likely to succeed. His achievements were considered the smallest of any of the members, although he was then riding high, having written Abby Road's biggest  ballad, "Something."

     But it was to Harrison's advantage that the demise of the Beatles coincided with the rise of rock's cult of musicianship. Lennon and Paul McCartney made their reputation as wits and songwriters. Ringo as a wit alone. Harrison was known only for his guitar playing. By the time of Bangladesh in 1971, he had become the most visible of the four. Since then, he has developed perhaps the strongest following of any of them.

     The principal drawback is Harrison's defensiveness, the only Beatle to stick to their mid 60s conversion to Oriental mysticism. His records have increasingly reflected an obsession with that side of his life. It's hard not to feel that he is pushing a little too hard when he changes the lyrics of "In My Life" to "In My Life I Love GOD More," shouting the change. And it's even worse when he encores with the chant consisting of the names Christ, Buddha, Allah, and Krishna shouted over and over again.

     Still, he succeeds in interesting even the cynical. His sore throat, which has plagued him throughout the tour, is actually an aid in this, making him seem more vulnerable and less arrogant than usual. And there are touches like his red sneakers, which remind us that he once was an important part of that light hearted phenomenon called The Beatles.

     It is a blessing in disguise that Harrison is insecure enough to emphasize the end of the Beatles, even though he may do so for motives that are less than charitable, principally a desire to establish himself as a star. His insistence on being an ex, ex, ex-Beatle puts an end to the rampant necrophilia in the guise of nostalgia that prays for our Beatles reunion. The reunited Beatles won't save us, and maybe Krishna can't either, which is something we'll all have to live with. Rock and roll won't save your soul, either. But as Harrison obviously knows, even if he isn't letting on.

Ex-Beatle George Harrison is guest at White House

 

Ex-Beatle George Harrison is guest at White House

UPI

December 14, 1974

    Former Beatles star George Harrison, wearing red sneakers and expressing "good vibes" about the White House, ate lunch at the Executive Mansion Friday with Jack Ford and met his father, the president.

     Harrison pinned a blue Eastern Mystic button with Moon circles on President Ford's lapel and received a W I N (whip inflation now) button in return,

" I didn't ask him about Bangladesh or anything else political," said Harrison after the meeting. "I didn't want to bug him."

     Jack, 22, a senior at Utah State University, met Harrison and other rock performers on November 16 after their show in Salt Lake City. He invited them to visit when they came to Washington as part of a seven-week tour.

     Harrison, wearing orange pants, red sneakers, and a brown plaid jacket adorned with pop art buttons, arrived in a Cadillac limousine and said he was very flattered at his first White House visit. "I feel good vibes about the White House," added the former Beatle. 

    After lunch of ham, beef, and vegetables, they went into the Oval Office to see President Ford. He posed for pictures with them, standing between his son and Harrison and joking freely with everyone.         Harrison said the president seemed more relaxed than he had expected. "I was the one that was nervous."

     With Harrison was Indian satirist Ravi Shankar, singer-organist Billy Preston, and saxophonist Tommy Scott. Also invited were Harrison's father, Harry, his manager, Denis O'Brien, publicity agent Michael Sterling, and two of Jack's personal friends, Ken Smith and Sandy Laughlin, 

    "I just wanted to return the hospitality." Jack told reporters as he greeted his guests outside. He wore a tan jacket, light-colored jeans, and black boots when he greeted his guests. 

" I can relate to Jack and how he feels," said Harrison, "He is a good guy. Everybody's watching everything he does. I'm somewhat familiar with that."

     Young Ford, who is studying forestry and expects to graduate in March, flew home from school early Friday morning for the Christmas holidays.

Big sound in a small state

 

December 11, 1974 - Providence, Rhode Island 

A Strained Legend

 George Harrison: A Strained Legend

By Ernie Santosuosso

The Boston Globe

December 11, 1974

    Close to 31,000 yesterday filled Boston Garden in the hope of reviving, partially, at least, a legend. George Harrison, an individual performer since the breakup of the Beatles in 1970, continued his first road tour in eight years with a matinee evening doubleheader. 

    Yesterday, Harrison, now proxy of Dark Horse records, entered the stretch run of his 45 concert seven-week schedule. It was quite obvious at the afternoon show that his voice would have to croak to the finish. Ignoring the strain on George had apparently failed to conserve over the touring grind. He plowed into an even dozen vocal segments, also accompanying Billy Preston and the Ravi Shankar group on guitar on several selections.

     Typical of most Garden-oriented rock shows, Harrison's return was more of a news happening than artistic feet. The chill factor in the Garden evoked memories of Bob Dylan's deep freeze on a January afternoon this year. It may have been merely a coincidence, but the much-revered folk rock singer himself, taking to the road for the first time in many years, delivered his lyrics with a harsh honking bleat. But no matter for most of the capacity turnouts, just being there is his own reward, and the same philosophy held true in the case of the one-time Beatle.

     To honor George's visit  Boston Globe, President Weston Adams Jr reportedly issued an order that any member of his office staff attending the concert must wear jeans. Like a true leader, Westy sported Levi's, and his assistant, Jack Nicholson, was similarly turned out in denim.

     Backstage security was tighter than usual. Sitting in the aisles was summarily discouraged, and the normally adequate troops were reinforced by 10 burley Boston College football players recruited by ex Eagle, Dennis McCreary for local producers, Harvey Weinstein, and Corky Berger.

     Harrison, described as the quiet one of the four Beatles, maintained his unbudging policy of no interviews, except for his Los Angeles press conference and a recent Rolling Stone spread.

 Harrison announced that sitarist Ravi Shankar, just released after a five-day confinement due to exhaustion in a Chicago hospital, would be unable to perform with his family ensemble.

However, Ravi was brought on stage for the purpose of assuring the audience that he wasn't as ill as had been rumored. Said Harrison's colleague of the 1971 concert for Bangladesh, "I'm unfortunately not strong enough to perform tonight. My darling sister-in-law and my beloved George will carry on for me."

     Even without its leader, the 15 person Shankar troupe, plus saxophonist Tom Scott and Harrison on guitar delivered a musically invigorating if somewhat long segment. An intriguing vocal effect, similar to that archived achieved by Francis Swingle singers, was produced on "Naderdan." while "Chatpatay," ("Spicy") presented Ravi's sister-in-law, energetically cajoling the ensemble through a percussive tour de force.

 Midway during the Shankar family set, Harrison gratuitously introduced each player by naming the record of which on paper would have been a Herculean assignment for one not born in India. 

    Keyboard player Billy Preston stole the show from the top-billed star with the playback of his hit "Nothing From Nothing" and "Outta Space", which caused the afternoon crowd to erupt for the first time.

    Harrison's band, an admixture of his own side men and the LA Express, was first rate. These young old pros, besides Preston and Scott, included saxophonist Jim Horne, trumpeter Chuck Finley, who once played in the orchestra of the late Jimmy Dorsey, lead guitarist Robben Ford, Berkelee dropout Andy Newmark on drums, percussionist Emile Richards, bassist Willie Weeks and drummer Jim Keltner.

     Scott helped elevate the far more interesting second half of the program with the demonstration of the Lyricon, a jet age instrument developed and manufactured by Computone of Hanover.

     Harrison's parched vocals were concentrated on "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" and "Something" "Sue Me, Sue You", the lyrical expose of The Beatles dissolution, "Foun Your Blue," "Give Me Love," "Maya Love," "What is Life" and "My Sweet Lord" and his new single, "Dark Horse." 

Harrison Suffers Energy Crisis

 

Harrison Suffers Energy Crisis in Pumping New Time Religion

By Bill Mann

The Gazette (Montreal,Canada)

December 9, 1974

    George Harrison, the first ex-Beatle to tour North America, was at the Forum for two shows yesterday. The afternoon show drew 14,000, while last night's presentation was a sell-out.

     Harrison's shows were framed in the most impressive and tasteful stage setting I've seen at the Forum in a long while. The lighting was superb. The sound unusually crisp for the big arena. It was unusual in other ways too. 

    It combined rock with soul and also an interlude for Indian spiritual tunes. On one hand, one applauds Harrison for sticking to his spiritual convictions in these days of ubiquitous cynicism. Representing serious Indian classical music with a touch of pop in front of a rock-oriented audience seems to be self-defeating. It smacks of self-indulgence.

  While the Indian part of the set obviously lacked its key catalyst and sitar extraordinaire, Ravi Shankar (taken ill in Chicago four days ago but able to rejoin the tour in a few days in Boston.) Nonetheless, it had its moments, notably the great percussive byplay between the redoubtable Alla Pakha on tabla and TV Gopalkrishnan on mridangam (a horizontal conga). The hit British 45, "I Missing You," sung by Ravi's sister-in-law, Lakshmi Shankar, was lovely. But all in all, the Indian set lacked punch, much like Harrison's world-weary vocals all night.

     Ask anyone who was there at either show Sunday night what the highlight of the performance was and I'll bet  the answer will be almost unanimous: Billy Preston's three numbers, which added a badly needed energy rush to the proceedings. 

    Nonetheless, Harrison's quiet spirituality added an aura of class and style to the show. The shows are dedicated to Sri Krsna, whose logo and lights adorned both sides of the stage. The backup group Tom Scott's LA Express was great in a backup role, but when Scott did his one solo number, the show suffered. Scott's sax is cheesy and bland, and neither he nor his group should ever be out front. This world is full of good rock musicians who do not know how to entertain or create anything original, and Scott is a perfect example of this.

     For me, the highlight was Preston's soul stepping on his hit single "Out of Space", and anyone lively enough to get George Harrison to dance along gotta have something going for him. Harrison started with his lovely Beatles tune "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" and followed up with "Something" off of the last recorded Beatle LP,  Abbey Road. With Harrison adding a touch of Krishna consciousness to the lyrics by changing the line to, "will our love grow. I hope so." Instead of, "I don't know."

     Another high point was Harrison's new single, and, not coincidentally, his new record label, Dark Horde [sic], a pleasant, acoustic piece along the lines of "Here Comes the Sun", the latter written in Eric Clapton's garden one sunny British afternoon. It concludes with these words in the chorus. "I'm a dark horse running on a dark race course."

     And that is indicative of Harrison's slightly in the dark perception of his audience. While some burned incense, most still shouted for rock and roll.  Harrison and fellow spiritualist Eric Clapton both have suffered in their historic tours this year from lack of energy.

     I love Harrison for trying to turn the masses on to a special consciousness. But I'm also distressed that he has almost certainly forgotten how important a little rock and roll energy can be to any show, and he, like Clapton and Carlos Santana, is far too serious these days. Once again, I must ask, is this energy loss reversible, or is this the shape of things to come? Harrison has always been pretty much ahead of his time. And if he's right this time, then the 70s will be remembered in rock as the age of the great nod-off. More importantly, as far as his Indian and spiritual statements go, I think Harrison is well-intentioned, but evangelism has always turned more people off than on.

Silent George Harrison Should Have Stayed Quiet

 

'Silent' George Harrison Should Have Stayed Quiet

By Jim Smith (who obviously dislikes George!)

The Hamilton Spectator

December 7, 1974

    10 years ago, George Harrison, as one of the Beatles, spent 40 minutes on the stage at  Maple Leaf Gardens while 19,000 kids drowned out all the music with screams. Last night, Harrison was back at the Gardens, the first of the Beatles to return as a solo artist for two virtually sold out performances, and for the most part, those kids of a decade ago had come to listen, which was George's major problem of the evening,

    Harrison spent a lot of time praising the Lord and giving thanks to a higher power.  Better, he should have spent a bit more time praising Billy Preston, for without Preston, the Gardens would have been quiet as a tomb.

     But taking the performers in the order of their billing, we should start with Harrison George. George was always known as the "silent" Beatle—the one who never counted for much with the group. John and Paul wrote, of course, and Ringer [sic] had that eccentric charm, but George never made it to the top of the class. 

    Later, after the group disbanded, he was the first after Lennon's disastrous solo efforts to release his own albums.  But they weren't the kind of product that would have attracted much attention if they hadn't been released by a former Beatle. Basically, the same analysis could be made of Harrison's concerts last evening, as applies to his albums. If Horace Nobody had stood on the Garden stage, hoarse of voice and shy of melodies, and offered what Harrison offered, he had been playing to an empty house.

     In a sense, Harrison's show is a very personal matter. Little of the repertoire is widely familiar, having been composed only in recent years, long after the Beatles lost the sales power they had enjoyed collectively. Moreover, it clearly bears the mark of Indian musical tradition because of the enormous influence Ravi Shankar has exerted on Harrison, and Indian music is considerably less extgroverted [sic] than the rock and roll on which the Beatles base their reputation.

     So immediately, Harrison faced the mammoth problem of presenting a personal show in an impersonal setting. Maple Leaf Gardens is not a place for soft-sell, nor is it a place for a sound system that, like Harrison's, washes out the vocals. You take that into account, Harrison clearly didn't have a chance of walking off the stage a winner.

     However, Harrison's basic problem of style was compounded by his vocal state:  horse.  He was so hoarse, in fact, that he was even having trouble speaking, let alone singing. So all the lyrics were sung in a brusk, Dylan-ish style. Above all, he bent over backwards to devote much of his show to an art form that had no business on the Maple Leaf Gardens stage.

     The art form was the Ravi Shankar orchestra of Indian instruments, 16 in all, under the direction of presumably Mrs. Ravi Shankar. Until yesterday, Shankar himself had been conducting the orchestra on the Harrison tour, but he was waylaid in Chicago with an unspecified ailment and failed to make the Toronto engagement.

     Now, Shankar, like his orchestra, is an impeccable musician in his milieu. The milieu, unfortunately, is an intimate theater with a knowledgeable and appreciative audience. Harrison's audience of young swingers is far from knowledgeable and even farther from appreciative. They paid their $10 a head for a rock and roll concert, and that's what they wanted. 

    Shankar had bowed to the demands of his concert schedule, too. His delicate acoustic music remains acoustic but has been amplified and rearranged to underscore the beat and downplay the melodies. I guess it was inevitable that Indian music, having shaped the form of Western pop music, should find itself being altered by that Western music in return.

    Candidly, I have to admit that I enjoyed some of the bouncy passages. At no time, though, did music and singing from Shankar's ensemble fit the format most ticket holders had expected.  Out of two hours of playing time, Shanker's group was given 45 minutes. That seemed excessive. It also thinned the audience.

     Whatever Harrison's weaknesses are, the inability to pick good sidemen is not one. On guitar, he had Robben Ford, who is young but competent, just the kind of guy to cover up when George got tired of playing lead guitar himself.  On drums, Andy Newmark of Sly and the Family Stone. Tom Scott on a variety of saxes and woodwinds, giving just the right melodic touch to everything and others, not the least of them being Billy Preston.

     Preston doesn't worry much about art forms. He's a natural entertainer out of the gospel training ground. He plays all the keyboards, starting with piano and finishing with an assortment of synthesizers, better than anyone should. He sings with a heartfelt drama. He dances, and he can make even the deadest audience come to life. 

    For the first two hours, Preston stuck to the supporting role with Harrison, filling in marvelous keyboard riffs with ultimate reliability. Then, 10 minutes before the end of the show, Harrison set Preston loose, and Preston responded with a rousing "Nothing From Nothing" before following up with "Out a Space" that had everyone, including Preston, on their feet and dancing. In Preston's case, the dancing took him across the stage and back several times. Before anyone had a chance to sit down and recover from Preston, Harrison slammed into his best-known contemporary piece, "What Is Life," and capitalized on Preston's store of goodwill.

    For this sense of using the Preston created enthusiasm to his own advantage, Harrison deserves the greatest respect as a professional. But at the same time, the ease with which Preston shook the audience from its lethargically and brought it to its feet contrasts vividly with Harrison's own lack of character.

     I spent a couple of minutes trying to figure out what Harrison had contributed to the evening. Then I asked a friend what he thought of the show without a moment of hesitation; he replied, "Preston's incredible," and that pretty well sums it up. A pretty fair concert that would have been disastrous with feels Billy Preston to pull George Harrison's fat out of the fire.

 Billy Preston, incidentally, headlined a concert of his own at Toronto's Matching Hall earlier this fall. It drew less than 1/10 the number of people who turned out for Harrison, but Preston, of course, isn't an ex-Beatle.

Ex Beatle George was Delayed, but the Wait was Worth It

Ex-Beatle George was Delayed, but the Wait was Worth It

By Christine Brown

Detroit Free Press

December 5, 1974

    George Harrison was often called the silent Beatle, the man who stood off to one side and simply played dazzling guitar while John Lennon and Paul McCartney belted out their stuff, and Ringo Starr was cute on the drums.

    Now Harrison, like the other ex-Beatles, is quiet, no more.

    Stopping in Detroit on Wednesday in the middle of a 27-city tour, his first since a 1966 Beatles trip, Harrison and company kept 10,000 plus people fidgeting as they waited for his 5:30pm concert to begin, not knowing that they had not even left Chicago yet.  Tour people blamed mechanical problems for his arrival one and a half hours late.

    Harrison and his top-notch musicians ambled onto the stage shortly after 7pm to play a two-hour set that included everything from Billy Preston's "Nothing From Nothing" to some of Harrison's old Beatles tunes.

     The crowd forgot about the wait and was entranced by a skinny, blue-jean-clad man who represented a little piece of their history, if only because he helped dictate their hairstyle. 

    The Harrison concerts are an international musical smorgasbord featuring a mixture of Indian and jazz influences, a bit of the old Liverpool sound, and the Jazz—pop—rock of Preston and Tom Scott, who got the people to boogie even better than Harrison did. 

    Ravi Shankar, who brought Indian music and Krishna into Harrison's life, became ill Wednesday in Chicago, the tour spokesman said, but was expected to rejoin the tour in Montreal or Boston next week.     Shankar's 16 musicians, along with Harrison and his band, performed several well-received numbers, Jazzy things that seem to please even those who don't like their sitar straight.

     Harrison did two shows at Olympia stadium, and the late start, which pushed the second show start from 10 to 11:30pm, caused chaos on the snowy streets around the stadium as the first audience left around 10 o'clock and many who had tickets for the second show tried to scramble to what they thought was a 10pm concert. 

    Harrison said before this tour that if he flopped, he'd go back to London and hide out for several years. Although Detroiters didn't award him the constant maniacal screams that greeted the Beatles way back in '66. Their clamor for an encore after encore indicated they liked him solo in the Motor City.

Refund for Harrison Tickets

 Refund Plan Studied for Harrison Tickets

(No author given)

The Akron Beacon Journal

December 3, 1974

Refund information for the George Harrison concert scheduled for Monday night at the Coliseum will be forthcoming, said a spokesman for Belkin Productions sponsors of the concert. 

The concert was canceled because of impassable roads in the Coliseum area. The spokesman said there was no problem in getting Harrison to the Coliseum because the former Beatles "had his own chartered plane."

 Sheriff Major Howard Taylor, of post 3 in Bath Township, advised the promoters that the concert should be canceled. "The roads in the area were a mess," Taylor said. "I- 271 was blocked, and Ohio 303 had only one lane passable. I told the Belkin people that, in my opinion, the shows should not be held for the safety of the people."

 Two shows were scheduled at 6:00 and 10:00pm. Some out-of-state concertgoers became stranded on I- 271. Others from Cleveland and Columbus, where only a small amount of the snow fell, were already on their way.

 Both shows were sold out, meaning approximately 40,000 rock fans would have attended. A spokesman for Belkin Productions said it was very doubtful that the two shows could be rescheduled, even for early next year.

Harrison and Co. Come Together at the End

 

George performing during the evening show in Chicago on November 30, 1974

Harrison and Co. Come Together at the End But It's Just Too Late

By Lynn Van Matre

The Chicago Tribune

December 2, 1974 

    This has been a year, folks for rock reincarnations.  As 1974 opened, Bob Dylan came back from the recording dead. This summer saw Crosley Stills, Nash, and Young reunited, and Eric Clapton creeped back. And as the year drew to a close, singer-songwriter-guitarist George Harrison, set out on the road, the first of the Beatles to do so, and the first of the once Fab Four to perform in Chicago since the middle 1960s and so on. Blah, blah, blah

   And blah, it was pretty much how expectations regarding George's two Saturday shows at the Chicago Stadium had been running for anyone who'd been keeping track of his tour progress along the way. Harrison was hoarse, the reviews had run; reportedly, keyboard man Billy Preston had more than once stolen the show, and Harrison was unhappy about it. 

    But Saturday night at the stadium, Harrison seemed happy enough to have Preston at his side, show-stealing and all. And he should have been, for it was only during the last half hour of the show after Preston had rocked things up and danced up a mild storm that Harrison himself finally took off, and the whole thing came together in a finale that saved the evening and almost made up for what had gone before. And that took some doing.

     After Harrison and a heavyweight backup group that included Preston on keyboards and a dynamite horn section headed by Tom (LA Express), Scott finished "My Sweet Lord."  In fact, there wasn't an unlighted match in the place. A predictable enough response, of course, given Harrison's credentials. In fact, for a lot of people, just seeing some ex-Beetle in the rather wooden and wan flesh was enough. But the tribute was not wholly undeserved because the show's last few numbers really cooked, despite Harrison throwing a big dose of religion ranting before that, things scarcely simmered. 

    Harrison has long been an admirer of sitar player Ravi Shankar, and most of the first half of the show consisted of Shankar leading his percussive Indian orchestra in ragas and religious paeans while Harrison served as little more than side man. One of the hymns to Krishna, "I am Missing You," was intriguing, but after a while, the music began to merge into dreary sameness and became merely something to sit through while waiting for Harrison himself to step out.

     But Harrison never proved to be much of a showman dressed in a white shirt and upgraded bib overalls with picture buttons of gurus pinned on (like all the big rock stars turned religious fanatics favor); he looked tired and sounded it. He also sounded painfully, ruinously hoarse. Harrison may very well have been tired, having gone through the same show only hours earlier, but the double workout didn't seem to have affected Preston at all. He was even able to dance, which brought one of the biggest hands of the evening. The applause signs weren't even needed.

     Yes, the applause signs throughout the show as Harrison and crew slogged through selections from his forthcoming Dark Horse album and such oldies as John Lennon's "In My Life," some kids kept busy skittering around backstage holding corny hand-lettered signs along the lines of "Bless Billy Preston," "What a horn section" and the ever popular "applause." Apparently, someone thought George could use a little help. A case of throat lozenges and some judicial pruning of the Shankar portion of the concert might have been a more practical panacea for the proceedings.