George Harrison’s solo career was a fascinating blend of soaring peaks and unexpected valleys. After a triumphant post-Beatles launch with the monumental All Things Must Pass, he enjoyed continued success with albums like Living in the Material World. However, the latter half of the 70s and early 80s saw a shift in fortunes as chart dominance began to wane.
A triumphant return with Cloud Nine and the supergroup Traveling Wilburys reignited Harrison’s star, but his musical journey was cut tragically short. The posthumous release of Brainwashed offered a bittersweet conclusion to a career that, while often overshadowed by his bandmates, undeniably left an enduring mark on music.
Even the greatest artists have their off days, and George Harrison was no exception. This exploration delves into the less celebrated corners of his discography, ranking the weakest track from each of his studio albums.
“It’s Johnny’s Birthday” from All Things Must Pass (1970)
All Things Must Pass is a sprawling, majestic opus that showcases Harrison’s songwriting prowess in full bloom. Its double album format allows for deep dives into both introspective ballads and exuberant rockers. However, even within this masterpiece, there exists a curious outlier.
Tucked away at the end of the album, amidst the experimental Apple Jam tracks, is “It’s Johnny’s Birthday”. A breezy, throwaway tune that feels more like a casual jam session than a carefully crafted composition, it’s a stark contrast to the album’s otherwise ambitious and cohesive sound.
“That Is All” from Living in the Material World (1973)
Living in the Material World is a richly textured album that showcases Harrison’s spiritual evolution. Its blend of rock, folk, and world music creates a captivating tapestry. However, the album concludes with a somewhat unexpected and underwhelming track.
“That Is All” aims for a grand, meditative finale but ultimately comes across as overly saccharine. John Barham’s lush arrangements, while undoubtedly skillful, can’t quite mask the song’s descent into easy listening territory. It’s a gentle, inoffensive track, but it feels like a somewhat anticlimactic end to an otherwise ambitious album.
“Bye Bye Love” from Dark Horse (1974)
Dark Horse is a transitional album for George Harrison, marked by a raw vulnerability and a search for new sonic directions. Amidst its experimental tracks and personal reflections, one song stands out as a particularly jarring departure.
“Bye Bye Love” is a dramatic, over-the-top ballad that delves into the tumultuous waters of Harrison’s personal life. The song’s lyrics are a stark contrast to the album’s more introspective moments, and the rumor mill surrounding its recording adds an air of intrigue and controversy. It’s a track that demands attention, whether for its musical merits or its scandalous backstory.
“This Guitar Can’t Keep from Crying” from Extra Texture (Read All About It) (1975)
Extra Texture (Read All About It) is an album that finds George exploring new musical territories, incorporating elements of funk and R&B into his sound. However, amidst these experimental tracks, there’s one glaring misstep.
“This Guitar Can’t Keep from Crying” is a lifeless rehash of a Beatles composition, devoid of the energy and innovation that characterized Harrison’s best work. Its inclusion on the album feels like a wasted opportunity, a jarring reminder of the album’s overall lack of focus and direction.
“Learning How to Love You” from Thirty-Three and a Third (1976)
Thirty-Three and a Third is a criminally underrated album; it’s where the Quiet Beatle displayed his playful and experimental side. It’s a record filled with unexpected twists and turns, from funky grooves to psychedelic excursions.
Unfortunately, the album’s closing track, “Learning How to Love You”, is a jarring departure from its energetic spirit. A gentle, Rhodes-driven lullaby, it’s a surprisingly subdued and melancholic end to an otherwise upbeat and adventurous journey. While it’s a pleasant enough tune, it fails to leave a lasting impression and feels like a missed opportunity for a more dynamic conclusion.
“Here Comes the Moon” from George Harrison (1979)
George Harrison’s self-titled 1979 album marked a period of experimentation and evolution in his solo career. It’s a record that ventures into new sonic territories, showcasing a willingness to explore different musical styles.
However, amidst these bold explorations, “Here Comes the Moon” feels like a step backward. A rehash of a Beatles composition, the track fails to offer anything fresh or inspiring. Its presence on the album is puzzling, as if Harrison was content to coast on the laurels of his past rather than forging a new path.
“Baltimore Oriole” from Somewhere in England (1981)
Somewhere in England is a somewhat overlooked album in Harrison’s discography, a collection of songs that reflect a period of introspection and artistic exploration. However, the album’s journey to completion was far from smooth, with record label interference shaping its final form.
One of the casualties of this creative compromise is “Baltimore Oriole”, a cover of a Hoagy Carmichael standard. While the track is competently performed, it feels like a filler, a track chosen to appease rather than to inspire. Its presence on the album is a reminder of the artistic restrictions that often plagued musicians in the music industry.
“Mystical One” from (Gone Troppo, 1983)
Gone Troppo is an obvious departure from his usual introspective and spiritually inclined music. It’s an album that embraces a lighter, more upbeat tone, filled with catchy melodies and infectious rhythms.
However, the album’s attempt to reconcile its sunny disposition with Harrison’s deep-rooted spirituality leads to some incongruous moments. “Mystical One” is a case in point. The song’s upbeat, almost frivolous approach to a profound subject matter feels out of place, like a forced attempt to blend two incompatible worlds.
“Breath Away From Heaven” from Cloud Nine (1987)
Cloud Nine is a triumphant return to form for Harrison, an album that revitalized his career and cemented his status as a solo artist. It’s a collection of songs that effortlessly blend pop sensibilities with Harrison’s signature melodic flair.
However, even this stellar album has its moments of inconsistency. “Breath Away From Heaven” is a jarring departure from the album’s upbeat and infectious energy. Its angular, introspective nature feels out of place amidst the album’s more commercial tracks, creating a momentary lull in the otherwise exhilarating listening experience.
“Never Get Over You” from Brainwashed (2002)
Brainwashed is a poignant and reflective album, a fitting final chapter in George’s illustrious career. Its first side is a powerful collection of songs that delve deep into themes of spirituality and mortality.
While the album’s second side offers its own moments of beauty, it lacks the same emotional depth as its predecessor. “Never Get Over You” is a competent track, but it’s representative of the album’s overall decline in momentum. It’s a gentle ballad, but it fails to ignite the same passion and introspection as the songs that came before it.