 George Harrison George Harrison must have been so excited when he wrote "You," the song that opens his 1975 album Extra Texture. Listening to the infectious happy energy of the song, you can almost picture George running downstairs, clutching the sheet music proudly like an enterprising young boy with a copy of Grit magazine. "Olivia, Olivia! My talent is not gone after all! I've just written a love song!" At which point he is stabbed in the chest by an intruder whom he wrestles to the ground with a combination of superhuman strength, mystical Indian powers, and dry British wit. The hipster cognoscenti would be wise to start picking up on Harrison, actually. Few artists are so ripe for critical rediscovery. Especially given the recent reassessment of the Beach Boys' mid-70s output, it seems that people would be more open to sitting through a George Harrison album. That's not to say he made albums that have been widely misunderstood or unjustifiably neglected; certainly he did not break down any doors or explore bold new territories. But the albums are not nearly as devoid of quality as you'd be led to believe by the last 30 years of rock journalism. My contention is that no one has actually bothered to sit down and really listen to one. I mean, who is listening to disc 2 of All Things Must Pass? There's some amazing stuff on there. And that's the one George album anyone feels compelled to own in the first place; no one is championing a single moment of his career after that. But I still fondly recall listening to George Harrison and Somewhere in England on 8-track, and Extra Texture and Dark Horse on LP, back when my rose-tinted Beatle goggles led me to appreciate these albums as equal to any of the Fabs' better-assessed moments. Now, I'd hardly argue that Extra Texture is as "good" as any given Beatles album. But mark my words: if George ever does, as he's alluded to, reissue his catalog with bonus tracks, etc, people will definitely start jumping on them and claiming favorites. His songwriting is singular and not as immediately lovable/hate-able as Lennon's or McCartney's, so most have just chosen not to bother with George. But there's plenty on here to get into, and sonically, with overdubbed guitars, tambourines, and Arp all over the place, there is much for open-eared listeners to delight in. "You," of course, is phenomenal, could easily be on All Things Must Pass. "Can't Stop Thinking About You" is heartfelt and captivating, "The Answer's At the End" could be on a Band album. "This Guitar" is worthwhile, "His Name is Legs" is bizarre and kind of hilarious (in the vein of "It's Only a Northern Song"), "Tired of Midnight Blue" is a catchy thing not too far off from "For You Blue." Nothing on here is terrible, and at worst the album is merely listenable. It's head and shoulders above Walls and Bridges, that's for sure. I suppose it must be said that when you hit track 6 and it's already a reprise of "You" (called "A Bit More of You"), and the album has only 10 tracks to begin with, then maybe you're not on the most solid possible foundation. But quit your crying, it could have been a raga, you know?
Review by Tennie Dume |