When George Harrison released Living in the Material World, in 1973, he appeared to be the brightest star among all the solo Beatles. The 1970 triple album All Things Must Pass, buoyed atop the charts by “My Sweet Lord,” had finally established him as the full creative equal to his bandmates John Lennon and Paul McCartney. Living in the Material World’s lead single, “Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)”—Harrison’s second no. 1—appeared to confirm his skills as a hitmaker, but it also hinted at the turmoil that would inform his second album. A line in the chorus— “Give me hope, help me cope/With this heavy load”—sends a ripple of unease running across the song’s sunny surface.
Harrison’s load weighed a ton when he wrote the bulk of the songs comprising Living in the Material World. The blockbuster sales of All Things Must Pass had allowed him to launch The Concert for Bangladesh, a pioneering all-star charity event whose accompanying album took home the Grammy for Album of the Year, but these successes were followed by rapidly escalating headaches. “My Sweet Lord” brought plagiarism charges against Harrison, and the funds generated by The Concert for Bangladesh became embroiled in lawsuits. Harrison’s marriage to Pattie Boyd began to unravel through a series of tawdry infidelities. Looming above it all was the breakup of the Beatles, a contentious, messy affair playing out in courtrooms and boardrooms.
Harrison details these legal woes in withering detail on “Sue You, Sue Me Blues,” a song whose prominent placement—it’s Living in the Material World’s second song—suggests the extent to which the singer-songwriter’s troubles shaped the album. (He mentions his former bandmates by name on the title track.) Such specific guideposts counter the spiritual yearning that courses through the record. Living in the Material World often feels caught between extremes that Harrison can’t quite reconcile. The allure of the music speaks to physical pleasure, but Harrison’s lyrics can feel stiff and didactic. His insistence on deliverance through religion can come across as preachy, even hectoring, but the songs can also be interpreted as directives to himself; when he sings “The Lord Loves the One (That Loves the Lord),” he’s not lecturing the audience, he’s trying to center himself at a time of personal uncertainty.
The pace throughout is languid and deliberate, giving the album a slightly dour feel. “Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)” and “Living in the Material World” provide deceptive notes of brightness at the beginning, and “Don’t Let Me Wait Too Long” and “Try Some, Buy Some” camouflage their tempos with ornate arrangements. But for the most part, Living in the Material World relies on ballads and stately pop performed so slowly that they can be mistaken for dirges.
The suppleness of Harrison’s production helps mitigate the album’s air of resigned introspection. Originally, he had planned to reunite with Phil Spector, who helmed All Things Must Pass, but Spector had squirreled himself away in a hotel, swilling cherry brandies to the point of incapacitation; Harrison ultimately decided to take the reins himself, nominally leading the sessions at Apple’s newly christened Savile Row studios but doing most of the tracking at FPSHOT, his home studio at Friar Park. He assembled a close-knit group of fellow travellers. Klaus Voorman, an old friend of the Beatles since their Hamburg days, joined a band that featured keyboardists Nicky Hopkins and Gary Wright, plus drummer Jim Keltner and, occasionally, Ringo Starr. Together, they retreat from the onslaught of All Things Must Pass, delivering an album that’s intimate in mood no matter how expansive in sound.
This 50th Anniversary edition of Living in the Material World emphasizes that intimacy with a stripped-back remix by Paul Hicks, who previously performed a similar task on All Things Must Pass; a bonus disc featuring alternate takes of every song on the album; plus the B-side “Miss O’Dell” and “Sunshine Life for Me (Sail Away Raymond),” a collaboration with most of the Band that Harrison gave to Starr for his Ringo album. Generally, the alternate takes offer little more than subtle differences, such as the lack of Indian instrumentation during the middle section of “Living in the Material World,” but the pair of non-LP songs add a dose of good cheer that’s conspicuously lacking on the original album.
Still, Harrison’s sorrowful sway can be quite alluring. And even on the record’s quietest moments—“Be Here Now” is so slow it can seem like it’s standing still—Harrison’s bandmates bring warmth and even a subtle swing that softens his tendency to drift into sourness. That musical empathy ultimately gives the album its sense of uplift, offering the feeling that there’s a light flickering somewhere in the dark. Seeking the spiritual, Harrison finds communion with his collaborators in the here and now.
