| There must be peace in knowing you are going to die. Oh, sure, all of us (except maybe teenagers, who are truly immortal) wake up with that stark fact embedded in our brains, but usually it’s embedded in a distant place. But there’s nothing like a Polaroid moment in which the Grim Reaper is exposed as the person standing next to you to make death seem more immediate.
"Give me plenty of that guitar," says George Harrison in the opening sound bite on Brainwashed (EMI), his first album in over 10 years – and as the listener, you know that Harrison knows The Reaper is the auxiliary engineer. On the surface, Brainwashed is classically my sweet George, starting out with as fine and flippant a melody as his last hit, "I Got My Mind Set On You." The music is bright, breezy and tongue-in-cheek. But as the picture continues to develop, metaphors ooze and allegorical journeys, spinning wheels and homecomings arch their necks over the pathway.
The difference between this album and The Universe, Harrison’s earlier exploration of spirituality, is the tone. Sure, at some points he talks of being down upon his knees and of having the Vatican blues, but that former, oh-so-’70s, preachy, bitchy, smarten-up-and get-enlightened tone is replaced with joy, humour and some eternally catchy melodies. Well, most of it is. Harrison always knew he’d rest in peace, ’cause "plenty of that guitar" is always the right choice on the metaphysical answer sheet.
When Harrison wrote the foreword for his book I, Me, Mine – which originally came out in 1980 and has been recently republished by Chronicle Books – he called it a little ego detour, which is a very deliberate statement from a man who had worked so hard to dissolve any ego that would stand between himself and God. Just before John Lennon was assassinated, Lennon railed at the fact that in over 300 pages, Harrison didn’t mention The Sarcastic Beatle even once. Obviously, Lennon was myopic. Harrison lived in the Lennon-McCartney shadow for years until he dissolved that shadow by rearranging the lighting in his life.
Some of those changes in light and shadow are celebrated here in the form of scribbled lyrics, arrangement sheets for songs and rare photographs. The book’s highlights are vignettes taken from conversations between Harrison and longtime Beatles’ press manager Derek Taylor. These snippets about everything from taking LSD to hanging out on the Formula One circuit provide glimpses into the rock inside Harrison that kept him sane while everything around him seemed nuts.
But, as with many autobiographies, the view is narrower than it would have been had it included quotes and memories from other people who bumped into Harrison’s life. There is no dirt dished on tiny matters like Harrison’s affair with Ringo’s wife, Maureen, no mention of the later reconciliations with former bandmates, and no fresh reflections since the book’s original publication date. But, as Harrison himself says in the tome, "It’s easier to see the books upon the shelf than it is to see yourself."
Which brings us to the matter of Paul McCartney, who may well be looking for himself in the CDs he has released or in the zeros in his bank account. But possibly, that’s giving him too much credit. Does he ponder The Great Wheel at all? Does he reflect on his life, his ethics and his journey, like Harrison did? If he did engage in this kind of soul-searching, wouldn’t he have noticed that his recent album, Back in the U.S. (EMI) is simply Wings Over America reheated, but this time without even the pretense of a real band?
I’m not knocking WOA – that childhood Cashmas release still takes me back to a time when I was misty-eyed and naive. But, yes, on Back in the U.S. you will find songs like "Blackbird," "Yesterday" and "Maybe I’m Amazed" – songs that were always available in more soulful versions on WOA. You will also find that more than half of the tracks are from the eight years of the Beatles era, not from Macca’s 32-year post-Beatles career. Could it be, Paulie, that some of your leftovers are a little stale?
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. You know, McCartney wrote "Freedom" (included on this double-disc set in heart-wrenching, well-indoctrinated choruses) in response to 9/11, and here, he’s doing the patriotic thing in releasing another piece of product. After all, if you don’t buy this CD, The Terrorists Will Have Won.
OK, I’m being a little harsh, because finally, after only appearing on vinyl as a live 45, here’s a version of "C-Moon," one of the sweetest, sauciest, most reggae-kissed Wings songs ever to grace a B-side. And you know, those Beatles songs have legs – for the most part, they’re outpacing us after 40 years. And, it’s not like these recordings suck or anything, it’s just that, well, they don’t exactly blow either.
By the way, if you’re crazy about microwaved careers, there’s also a three-hour DVD featuring these concerts. But if you buy the DVD, it’s possible The Terrorists Will Have Won, because likely it’s the chemical warfare weapon we’ve been dreading. I mean, if everyone in America is asleep, we’ll be easy pickings, right? |
