SHAUN DALE

For a lot of people, he was The Quiet One. There was the Cute One, the Smart One and the drummer, with big personalities that drew the focus away from the guy with the Gretsch. You had to look twice to notice George Harrison, and you had to listen carefully to notice the difference he made on the records. He only played what was exactly necessary for each and every song. No matter who wrote which Beatle song, in the end there was a moment on every one of them that belonged to George, and that made it perfect.

When it was all over, it was just starting for George. John may have developed a rep as the political one, but George put his talent and his money where his heart was in a way that made a tangible difference that no amount John's highly visible posturing ever would. Ringo and Paul may have had the first post-Beatle albums, but George was hot on their heels, and there's a powerful arguement to be made on behalf of All Things Must Pass as the best thing any of them ever did after the fall. Ringo may have gone Hollywood, but George was the real player in the world of film, producing work both challenging and entertaining. And now it's all over. Isn't it a pity?

When all is said and done, George Harrison was the one Beatle that encompassed all the Beatles. He was the one, really, that made them perfect. Did you notice?

BILL HOLMES

George is at peace...and John has help with the tricky guitar parts. To truly memorialize someone, do something in their honor and in their spirit. In George's case, perhaps make peace with an opponent, or forgive a debt or an insult. My plan, anyway.

RON SARANICH

What I remember most about George Harrison was the tremendous influence and impact his music, in particular All Things Must Pass, had on me at a time in my life that I was just beginning a lifelong personal connection to eastern spirituality. It was like he was singing directly to me and my heart as I took my first tentative steps towards my spiritual home. The combination of heartfelt, sincere and compassionate lyrics with wonderful musical backing make All Things Must Pass, in my opinion, the greatest work by "The Beatles," singularly or as a group. The fact that many of the songs on this album deal with love and the human condition (e.g. dying, the transient nature of existence, devotion, etc.) in mature, personal, yet easily understood terms makes this essential. Is there a greater love song than "What Is Life?" Yes, all things must pass, including George Harrison, but his contributions will live on inside all of us. No one sang about the one, the eternal, and the infinite better than Harrison. May he rest in peace knowing we have heard his voice and vision and continue on the way he pointed out.

DAN FORTE

I was fortunate enough to interview George Harrison for Guitar Player magazine in 1987, just prior to the release of Cloud Nine. It will forever rank as one of the biggest thrills of my career in music. By then I'd been a music journalist for more than 20 years; I no longer got nervous about meeting someone famous. But I had several out-of-body experiences while talking to George--looking into his eyes, listening to him tell a story, thinking about my next question, but at the same time feeling like I was standing a few feet away, observing this scene of me sitting next to him, thinking, "That's George's voice; that's the same smile as that scene in A Hard Day's Night!" He was a genuinely lovely man--sincere, witty, down-to-earth, and quite talkative for being "the quiet Beatle." He looked right into your eyes when he spoke (or listened), and gave you his full concentration. He also had a remarkable memory for details, and when talking about early heroes like Buddy Holly and Eddie Cochran still had the enthusiasm of a young fan. Best of all, I thought, was that he seemed respectful of his and the Beatles' legacy. Without poo-pooing it or seeming self-absorbed, he understood that this was indeed musical history, and important as such. He never seemed impatient when I asked minute details about songs, guitars, sessions. And when the interview ended after about two hours, he was extremely accomodating, autographing my copy of I Me Mine, a white pickguard that now resides on my mongrel Stratocaster, and (eat your hearts out) my copy of The White Album. (He even signed an autograph to "Barney & Elenore"--my parents--which is now framed with a photo of me ("the fifth Beatle") and George, holding a Rickenbacker and a Gretsch, respectively, that was taken before it was time to say farewell. It is displayed prominently at my dad's house.)

I was barely 11 and already a huge fan when I saw A Hard Day's Night. When I got home from the matinee, I disappeared by myself to the tomato field behind our neighborhood and pretended I was Ringo walking along the canal, or George (or John or Paul) running through the street as hordes of screaming girls chased me. When the remastered print of the movie came to town earlier this year, I took my 7-year-old grandson. It took him a while to get what was going on--there's a long sequence on the train before the music really starts--but before long he was transfixed, bopping in his seat. It's heartening to hear him recognize them when they come on the radio, or hear an oldie by the Kinks or the Hollies and astutely comment, "That sounds like the Beatles." And even after 38 years, when I hear "I Want To Hold Your Hand" on the radio--or "Paperback Writer" or "Taxman" or "In My Life"--I get excited. The jaded rock critic disappears and the 11-year-old kid is back--running through the tomato field with "Can't Buy Me Love" ringing in his ears.

JOHN SEKERKA

I had the large foldout poster from "All Things Must Pass" on the back of my bedroom wall. It was dark, brooding and rather un-rock like. It was cool. George was cool. Even on a poster, George was hiding in the shadows. Growing up, The Beatles were IT. No denying that. You can poke fun all ya want at the times, but those songs last. Is anyone writing tunes these days that folks will be singing decades from now? Folks all over the world, in every nook and cranny and dental office and radio station and car stereo? Not bloody likely. What the hell was that all about anyway? How could the Beatles deliver it so quickly, so consistently, so effortlessly? And how could they lose it just as fast when not under each other's influence? It's a head-scratcher. George was cool, and he was an integral part of something remarkably special. And now there are two.

GARY "PIG" GOLD

It was sometime after Remembrance Day, 1963 in Canada. Just as I was defusing a few post-assassination tantrums (but only coz JFK coverage had pre-empted the Three Stooges on my local station), a friend's older sister put on a brand new record called "I Saw Her Standing There."

I heard the guitar solo, and the "Star Club" echo the fifth Beatle George had so expertly applied to it from upstairs at Abbey Road Studio Two.

For the first time in my life, little eight-year-old hairs started standing straight up upon the back of my neck.

Come the following February 9th, I'd see the guitarist himself in black-and-white action, hear that solo first-hand, and my archeology texts forever went back on the shelf, replaced by a makeshift Gretsch Country Gentleman immediately fashioned out of my dad's spare tennis racket.

My first "guitar," and my first (air) guitar solo. And my first guitar hero, lighting the way strong and true towards a future I really have to give him quite a lot of heartfelt thanks for.

"And you know what I mean."

God bless you, George.

W.K. BRINKMOELLER

George Harrison's influence upon the music of the Beatles was subtle, which is hard to imagine given that he was a playing member of the band. But that influence is undeniable, and a serious listen to almost any Beatles song will divulge that the so-called "Quiet Beatle" was making a big noise musically, and that those other guys were listening to him. Listen to his soloing style evolve from the skiffle-influenced, herky-jerky sound of the early songs up through his ultra-smooth work on his later albums and the Willburys. He collected musical influences like some people collect stamps.

There are, of course, far more technically gifted guitarists than George was, but no one played a solo like Harrison did. What was that style? It could be twangy like country, modal like Indian music, or as soaring and bluesy as Clapton, but it was George's distinctive style, and nobody else ever came near it. On every Beatles album, there would be hidden gems: the "Hairysongs," as Paul called them. Sometimes the songs were downright silly and sometimes they dealt with deeper thoughts than most people think a pop song ought to, but whatever the flavor, George's songs were always fascinating.

But aside from the musicianship, George was that rarest of superstars--a completely humble and unselfish human being. Above all else, George Harrison was a gentle soul, a man of peace. One of my absolute favorite George moments came in 1987. PBS did a special called "It Was Twenty Years Ago Today," about the release of Sgt. Pepper. There were interviews done with the three living Beatles and older filmed interviews with John. In one of the sequences, the subject was the times during which the album had been released. George's contribution was to say that when the album came out, people were really trying to change the world, put an end to war, and bring love into the world. Then he began to laugh. "Things have changed an awful lot since then," he said, "but that's still my story, and I'm sticking to it!" If only we all could do the same.

MELANIE CAMPBELL

I was a wee lass of barely 2 when the Beatles first performed on the Ed Sullivan show. Of course, being that young, I don't have a cognizant memory of this appearance. It wasn't long after that, though--maybe a year or two later--that I do have an actual memory of when the Beatles first meant something to me...

Cut to Mom & Dad's bedroom, and the portable record player. On the turntable was my brother's copy of "Meet The Beatles". Even at that young age, I had already figured out the basic mechanics of playing records. So "Meet The Beatles" was the first rock-n-roll record that I ever actually listened to, and I even had favorites on it. Mind you, I couldn't read at the time, but I could count. And I already had a grasp of the concept of "tracks" and where to put the needle so I could hear the songs I liked. And I didn't even scratch it up too bad, which insured my continuing health and well-being as far as my brother was concerned.

My favorite song wasn't "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" or "I Saw Her Standing There". My favorite tune was, believe it or not, "Don't Bother Me". I wondered years later how a song that basically says "buzz off" in a minor key (read: not normally considered cheerful enough to appeal to a 3-year-old) could have made such an impression on my little mind. It took me the better part of thirty years to figure it out, too. It was because of George.

As it turns out now, and I had no idea until the man passed, but "Don't Bother Me" was the first of George Harrison's contributions to the band's recorded catalog. Looking back now, it is obvious, too, that it is one of the best examples to spotlight what may be his greatest contribution to the Beatles. As has been noted here and elsewhere already, Harrison was a guitar genius in that he never played one note more than was ever necessary. Not only that, he practically invented the concept of "rhythm guitar as lead". And don't you know, the kids will pick up on the simple concepts in life every single time, and leave the complicated shit to the grownups. And "rhythm" is one of the first things you learn about in music class (remember?) When I think about it now, like that, it's not surprising at all that it was so appealing to such a young person. I'm sure I wasn't the only one, either.

Not that Harrison was the only simple, basic ingredient in the mix--it really was combination of the four of them that was so magic, you know--but you get the idea. The crazy thing is, because he was so understated, it was kinda easy to take him for granted. Maybe being tagged "the quiet Beatle" was more prophetic than anyone realized at the time. Why talk at all when you can play a guitar like that? True genius lets the art speak for itself without calling attention to it outwardly. The guy had this concept _nailed_. And that's what I'm going to miss most: the tasteful, caring way that George Harrison inserted just the right melody, slide lick, chord, bent note, or even feedback right where it needed to be. No more, and no less. And he always seemed to do it without a bunch of theatrics or pompous self-aggrandizing, in all of his work. It was a style that he carried forward into his post-Beatles output, and the style, like the man, just got better with age. What a legacy, huh? "Less is more" is always such a challenge, and nobody did "less" with "more" impact than George Harrison.

DJ JOHNSON

I was five when The Beatles played the Ed Sullivan show in 1964, and I knew from that moment on that I wanted to play guitar. I had to settle for playing the broom for many years until my parents gave in and got me a guitar and amp. It was mom and me against dad. He took us to the drive-in to see A Hard Day's Night, and being a Marx Brothers fan with a wicked sense of humor, he actually laughed a lot, but whenever a song came on, he turned the speaker off. You can imagine the scene inside the car. Bedlam. He didn't allow us to listen to Beatles music in the house, either, but he worked swing shift, and when he'd go to work, mom and I would watch from one window as his car pulled out of the driveway, then run to the other window and wait to see him turn the corner and drive down the road. Then we'd race to the radio and turn on either KJR or KVI and spend the rest of the afternoon switching back and forth, sure to hear a few dozen Beatles songs.

For my birthday that year, my mom gave me Meet The Beatles, and even at the age of five I listened differently than most people did. I absorbed it, listened to what George was doing and how it related to what John was doing and kicked the walls in frustration over not being able to duplicate the sound on that damned broom.

The two guitarists who electrified me all those years ago are both gone now. I've had a few days to sort out my thoughts and I'm still feeling very conflicted. Intellectually I know that life goes on, that George Harrison was just another human being, and that his passing was bound to happen soon. Emotionally, I can't believe it happened, I can't believe that it could happen to HIM, and I'm occasionally surprised to notice the world continuing on as if nothing happened at all. Which all makes me feel like an unstable fan of the worst kind, of course. I kept having little crying jags over the weekend. Just short things, mostly sudden welling up and momentary inability to converse. Then I listened to a recording of his acoustic demo for "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" and I just lost it. The big one, as it were. I'm hoping I'm cried out now, but still there's that conflict. And I never met the man. How do we get so attached to people we've never met? Or talked to or written to or anything of the sort. The closest thing I've had to communication with George Harrison is to close my eyes and smile through one of his lyrical guitar solos that I've heard a million times and still love and, at the conclusion, whisper "niiiiice..." My life, my experiences and my perception of the world as a musician have made me who I am. Watching The Beatles in 1964 made me a musician. It's a bit late, but thank you, George.

JASON THORNBERRY

He's hugely famous, so it shouldn't matter that much to me, but it does. I look a bit like a cross between my mother and George in about 1966. I don't actually look a thing like my dad, and my mom was always a really big Beatles fan. Here's to wishing. Now I can't believe he isn't going to pop up on TV and talk in that distinctive, knowing voice of his anymore. I'm really going to miss him. That's what everyone will say too, and I'm pretty sure he understood the impact he had on the planet.

RUSTY PIPES

I always felt connected to George, a fellow Pisces. His strong philosophical side certainly changed me, but I enjoyed him most musically. His guitar work was always undervalued, but George could ROCK. All of the early Beatles work depended on his lead licks so much that I doubt they could have gotten very far without him. I played I Saw Here Standing There for his rocking aspect the other night at my DJ gig; it was gratifying to see that it still makes everyone jump up. I always loved the psychedelic power of Harrison's own tunes like Within You Without You, Baby You're A Rich Man and Blue Jay Way too. The rarest Beatle splinter album in my collection is from George, Electronic Sounds from 1969 on the Zapple label. I also have a copy of the Wonderwall soundtrack that I prize highly. Recorded in Bombay in late 1967 there's some wonderful collaborations with Indian musicians. I never saw that movie, but he certainly had the best stuff on Yellow Submarine. When it was re-released I took my kids to a show and was thrilled to have it turn them into Beatles fans. They aren't taking George's death as hard as me though. What a lousy way to go, but there's a funny thing about cancer--you don't mourn as much because you're happy that the person has been freed from suffering. A piece of me is very sad but I'm glad to have heard his music and to have been a part of the cultural shift he helped put in motion. George Harrison is forever. I hope maybe we'll meet on the next turn of the Wheel.



We welcome you to share your thoughts and feelings with us. It's cathartic. Just use the e-mail link and type from the heart. Meanwhile, thank you for reading our thoughts and memories regarding George. It's been very hard for us all to concentrate on much of anything else since his death, so getting this issue out was something of a miracle. Now we go back to business.