What can one say about George Harrison’s epic All Things Must Pass except Holy Moly! Eighteen songs—plus the bonus album Apple Jams’ additional five songs—All Things Must Pass is nothing if not ambitious. Clearly Harrison had a backlog of songs, many written and rejected during his Beatle years; and with his rekindled interest in the guitar, he also had a bevy of new songs. Not just songs, but good songs, with styles and diversity that ranged from folk to hard rock to country and western, with most songs, however, sprinkled with, and in some cases dipped in gospel. Indeed, one of the few drawbacks to the album is its’ portentousness; something which would infect many of Harrison’s solo outings. Lyrically solemn, and co-produced, nay over-co-produced by Phil Spector, whose wall-of-sound nearly obliterates any budding cheerfulness (except, perhaps, in Apple Scruffs), listening to All Things Must Pass in one sitting is arduous. But like other “difficult” art, it’s also rewarding.
Side one is composer Harrison at his best. A beautiful guitar solo highlights I’d Have You Any Time, the opening track co-written with Bob Dylan. That leads into the instantly recognizable acoustic guitar opening to My Sweet Lord, a song with three whole notes that are reminiscent of the Chiffon’s He’s So Fine, costing Harrison plenty. (Question: Since every blues song, either credited to Eric Clapton, Bob Dylan, Stevie Ray Vaughn, etc. are essentially the same song, based on a three chord progression, how are they not infringing upon someone’s copyright?)
The musical feud between Lennon and McCartney, with the hidden and often overt lyrical bombs hulled at each other is well known. But it’s interesting that Harrison got into the fray first. The All Things Must Pass album cover alone, could be seen as a declaration of a Harrison’s breaking free from the Fab Four (the four gnomes), but if that’s reaching, the lyrics to Wah-Wah are surely about Harrison’s frustration at being a Beatle. The awful, muddy, wall-of-sound production not withstanding, Wah-Wah is a terrific rocker, with a cool guitar riff, and, what sounds like a great guitar solo, but who can tell with all that reverb?
Another glaring song written about the turmoil that was the disintegration of the Beatles is Run of the Mill, found on side 3. The tune itself would feel right at home in the Rubber Soul-ish era, but the lyric, particularly the stanza about “carrying the blame” seems pointed directly at McCartney. But in the same stanza, where Harrison sings “Tomorrow when you rise/Another day for you to realize me/Or send me down again” could be aimed at John, the Beatle who couldn’t be bothered to participate in the recording of Harrison’s Beatle tune, I Me Mine. (Itself a not veiled statement to the selfishness of his fellow Beatles.)
It’s hard to understand how the Beatles’ passed up Isn’t It a Pity, which is, in my opinion, one of Harrison’ s greatest songs (including those recorded by the Beatles). It’s such a good song that Harrison has two different versions of it on the album; one great and the other, classic. Of course the “classic” version is the long, slow one, which closes out side one of the album. It’s placement right after the aggressive Wah-Wah provides a bittersweet lament at the dissolution of, not the Beatles, but of their friendships. The long fade-out, which culminates with the blending of the lyrics “What a pity” with Hey Jude’s “Na-na-na-na” is as brilliant as it is heartbreaking. And how great is it that it lasts one second less than the Beatles’ anthem. My Sweet Lord may be Harrison’s most famous post-Beatle song, but Isn’t It a Pity is his best.
This is where the pause to turn an album over works to the album’s benefit. The album flip acts as something of a pallet cleanser, letting you savor the fade of Isn’t it a Pity, while also preparing you for the dynamic guitar riff opening side two’s What is Life. Catchy as all get-out, lyrically it’s interesting, because, unlike so many of his other post-Beatle songs, What Is Life could either be a straight love song, or, yet another spiritual. Written while he was still with the Beatles, apparently Harrison never offered it, which is a shame, because What Is Life has Beatles written all over it.
Speaking of offering tunes for The Beatles, their Anthology 3 collection contains Harrison’s solo demo offering of his song All Things Must Pass. As can be heard on various “Beatlegs” from the Let It Be sessions, The Beatles had worked on the song a bit. But by the rather lethargic playing, it’s clear that there was little interest from the group. Lyrically both fatalistic and optimistic, the song, as recorded and produced on Harrison’s album, is not nearly as dreary as the demo and Lads’ versions. Speeding the tempo a bit helps, and, for once, Spector’s over-producing somehow puts the focus on Harrison’s basic melody and lyric.
Let It Down, a song the Beatles briefly worked on during the Let it Be Sessions, , a Dylan cover, more decent songs rife with that portentous religiosity (Awaiting on You All being the best), the jaunty, jubilant ode to the die-est of die-hard Beatle fans, Apple Scruffs, and the only throw-away tune on the LP, I Dig Love, fill out the album(s) proper. The final song, Hear Me Lord, is another song rejected by the Beatles during the Let It Be sessions. An unabashed hymn, it’s frankly hard to imagine what Lennon would have made of it, and it’s not surprising that Harrison saved the song for himself.
Hot on the heels of Harrison releasing his masterpiece, Lennon releases one of his own. A mere two weeks separate the massive, way-over-produced (but nevertheless brilliant) All Things Must Pass and the hauntingly sparse and brutally honest John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (hereafter Plastic Ono Band). Both albums are credited as being co-produced by Phil Spector, but, while his hands are all over the knobs on Harrison’s album, it’s hard to believe Spector had much, if anything, to do with the production of Plastic Ono Band. Piano playing? Yes. Mixing? Perhaps. Producing? Except for the abundance of echo, Spector’s signature wall-of-sound is decidedly missing. This lack of “production” is essential to the overall effect of the album. Horns just won’t cut it on Working Class Hero.
The first solo Lennon album I’d gotten was Imagine, and that, coupled with the various solo singles and his work with the Beatles left me woefully unprepared for Plastic Ono Band. Known as the Primal Scream album (because Lennon had recently been going through, but never finished, primal therapy), the album hit me like the proverbial ton-o’-bricks. Close to sixteen when I got it, the fatalistic, pessimistic (with some exceptions) songs didn’t just speak to me, they spoke for me. Perfectly timed, smack-dab in the heart of my teen-angst years, Plastic Ono Band solidified everything I knew to be true: Everything sucked. Except for love. (As a woefully shy teen who could barely look a girl in the eye let alone talk with one, I wasn’t so sure love really existed. But I’d given Lennon the benefit of the doubt since he was so right about everything else sucking.)
Basically, when it came to Plastic Ono Band, pretty much every song, I imagined, was about me:
Mother. She and I were just starting what would be a few years of our love/hate relationship.
The title Hold on John was simply changed to Hold on Kev. (With the lyric “Hold on Yoko” being changed to the name of the girl—who shall remain nameless—I had a crush on at the time).
I Found Out. Well I did. And with Lennon’s help, I found out even more.
And then there’s Working Class Hero. Forget the commentary on the middle and working classes, this was a song about the hierarchical clique structure in High School. Not one but two F-bombs about summed it up.
Isolation. Yep.
Remember. It’s interesting how, at sixteen, one can pine for the better days.
Love. As mentioned, I had my doubts. But girls were just all so great… It was fun to dream it was real.
Well Well Well. Great song, but the screaming at the end was all that was necessary.
Look At Me. Not sure how he did it, because we’d never met, but Lennon wrote this one specifically for me.
God. Now here was a song. My religious beliefs were never strong, and pretty much gone by the time I’d heard the song. For me, Lennon’s definition of God was spot on. As was the tossing aside of idols; that worked for me, too. Until… Then (and even now), while bellowing along with the song, I just couldn’t bring myself to sing “I don’t believe in….Beatles.” Because I did. I did believe in Beatles. And still do. The Beatles especially kept me sane, along with Alice Cooper, Bowie, Zeppelin, Floyd, etc. including Dylan (I could sing, “I don’t believe in Zimmerman” but wouldn’t if it were “Dylan.” Hey, my teen-angst singing, my rules.) But nothing got me through those years better than Plastic Ono Band. The album is surely one of my Desert Island Disc selections. In fact, it’s the first.
