Benefit concerts were nothing new. After all, folk musicians had performed at benefits for one cause or another for decades and benefit performances undoubtedly stretched back several hundred years. But this was different. As its permanent website notes, the Concert for Bangladesh was “the first benefit concert of its kind in that it brought together an extraordinary assemblage of major artists collaborating for a common humanitarian cause – setting the precedent that music could be used to serve a higher cause.”

Certainly, no one can say with without this concert events like No Nukes, Live Aid or Farm Aid would never have occurred. But Harrison’s approach helped create fundraising synergy. Rather than rely only on proceeds of ticket sales, the concert produced not only a three-LP box set — delayed in part because of the record companies of the various artists — but a movie that had worldwide release. As a result, not only did the two performances provide about $243,000 to UNICEF, the UN organization devoted to providing humanitarian relief to children affected by natural and man-made disasters, sales of the movie and album ultimately generated more than $15 million.

Yet at the core of it all is the music. The quality may be reflected in the fact the box set not only won the Grammy Award for Album of the Year, it reached number 2 on the U.S. music charts and number 1 on the U.K. charts. Not bad for a three-LP set — although Harrison took the three-LP All Things Must Pass to number one worldwide early in 1971. There are also certain moments that make the shows historic, some of which the general public never knew at the time.

What we did know was this was the first time Bob Dylan had performed in concert in two years. What we didn’t know is that Harrison wasn’t sure until moments before introducing him whether Dylan would show up. We knew Eric Clapton dueted with Harrison on “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” the song on the Beatles’ so-called White Album on which Clapton played lead guitar. And while simply listening to the song wouldn’t reveal it, actually seeing Clapton on film indicated he was out of it. What we didn’t know is that Clapton’s drug problems kept him from all the rehearsals and, as he writes in his autobiography, he has only “a vague memory” of playing the show and “wasn’t really there.”

That aside, there’s plenty to love on the album and film. Harrison picked a top-notch selection of his own music, blending some of my favorites from All Things Must Pass to his best known songs with the Beatles. There’s Leon Russell singing a chorus of Harrison’s “Beware of Darkness” that helps uncover the song’s blues roots. There’s “Bangla Desh,” the song Harrison released just before the concert and which closed both performances. On film, there’s s Billy Preston so taken up in “That’s The Way God Planned It” that he leaves his keyboards to dance front stage. There’s the opportunity to watch Ringo Starr and Jim Keltner play drums side by side (and to also see highly regarded but rarely seen bass player Klaus Voorman). These are just a few of the highlights from what was unquestionably a historic day.

By the way, ticket stubs for “Harrison & Friends” on the middle of the five seating levels at MSG sold for $6.50 and $5.50 at the time. Those two stubs, each less than four inches square, went on auction this week. The starting bid? $200.

Although I couldn’t feel the pain
I knew I had to try
Now I’m asking all of you
To help us save some lives

George Harrison, “Bangla Desh”

Three years to the day from the release of Magical Mystery Tour, the “quiet one” had the audacity to release a three-LP box set, believed to be the first in rock music history. Many might have thought two records were enough, since the third basically contained jam sessions (although those jams included most of the musicians from what would be known as Derek and the Dominoes). But even had it been limited to two records, the music was impressive.

All Things Must Pass “only” generated two hit singles: “My Sweet Lord” (which a court found Harrison “subconsciously” plagiarized) and “What Is Life.” While those two songs reflected Harrison’s ability to write about spirituality and love, respectively, All Things Must Pass displays great songwriting ability. Harrison covers a broad range, from rock (“Wah-Wah”) to even a country feel (“Behind That Locked Door”), not to mention songs like “Isn’t It a Pity,” “Beware of Darkness” and “Awaiting on You All” or the cover of Bob Dylan’s “If Not For You.”

There’s not really a weak tune in that entire bunch. Harrison clearly established that “Something” and “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” were not one-offs. Even on his spiritual side, Harrison displayed his adeptness at crafting the songs. He intentionally started the chant in “My Sweet Lord” by repeatedly using “hallelujah” before transitioning into a Hindu mantra. Not only was the former more familiar and acceptable to most listeners, Harrison said he was trying to “show that ‘Hallelujah’ and ‘Hare Krishna’ are quite the same thing.” Likewise, while the chorus of “Awaiting On You All” talks of chanting the names of the lord, Harrison explicitly mentions Jesus in the next verse.

To the extent any one has a “favorite Beatle,” there’s no doubt George was mine. It’s bittersweet that the anniversary date of this wonderful recording so closely coincides with the anniversary of his death. But Harrison didn’t change during that time. “Isn’t It a Pity” asks why we fail to love and care for each other. The statement announcing his death at age 58 concluded with a quote from Harrison, the last words of which urge us to “love one another.”

“Isn’t It A Pity,” George Harrison, All Things Must Pass

The subtitle, The Spiritual and Musical Journey of George Harrison, is well-chosen. While Liverpool, the founding of the band and Beatlemania are all there, that history largely serves to simply set the stage. The focus here is on Harrison’s spiritual interests and the significant role it came to play in his life and his music. Here Comes the Sun demonstrates that the Hindu religion was not a grace note but a major theme in Harrison’s life and music. And while Harrison’s death means Greene has a tendency to rehash much non-original material to show Harrison’s personal thoughts, his background provides some unique insight.

Greene was, like Harrison, a student of A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada. Prabhupada was the founder of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness, the largest part of the “Hare Krishna” movement. Harrison purchased an estate in London for use as a Krishna retreat that was named Bhaktivedanta Manor and recorded an album of Hare Krishna chants (on which Greene was one of the chanters and played harmonium) sung by members of a temple for which Harrison guaranteed the lease.

As such, Greene does not view or treat Harrison’s interest in Eastern religion as the dalliance of a wealthy but eccentric rock star. Instead, the book looks seriously at Harrison’s views and worship of Krishna and the role its tenets and practices played in Harrison’s day-to-day life. Greene takes us from Harrison’s first trip in India 1966 to his various return trips up to his death. He also discusses the philosophical and spiritual discussions Harrison had with Prabhupada and other teachers and devotees.

Moreover, it looks at how the philosophy found its way into Harrison’s music. Among other things, it introduced Harrison to and encouraged his study of the sitar. Perhaps more important, Krishna and Hinduism directly impacted his songwriting. While Harrison’s blending of Hindu beliefs and concepts is seen from his first solo release, the stellar All Things Must Pass. Greene shows some of the subtler aspects of its influence. One example is “My Sweet Lord,” the song with an overt religious tone and a Hare Krishna chant that was the first Beatle solo effort to hit #1 on the charts. Harrison intentionally started the chant out with repeated use of the word “hallelujah” before transitioning into the mantra because it is more familiar and acceptable to westerners. As Harrison said, “I wanted to show that ‘Hallelujah’ and ‘Hare Krishna’ are quite the same thing.”

A combination of the essential role of Krishna worship in Harrison’s life and his efforts to be subtle is seen in his appearance in the two shows of the charity concert for Bangla Desh. Everyone could see Harrison in his pure white suit. Yet few probably realized that Harrison had a tailor stitch the Om symbol in the lapels of the suit and embroidered the Hare Krishna mantra on the collar and cuffs. Yet Harrison was later accused of wearing his religion on his sleeve in the more traditional figurate sense of the phrase. During Harrison’s North American tour in support of 1974′s Dark Horse album, critics lambasted Harrison for proselytizing. Harrison, though, was unabashed.

You know, I didn’t force you or anybody at gunpoint to come to see me. And I don’t care if nobody comes to see me, nobody ever buys another record of me. I don’t give a shit, it doesn’t matter to me, but I’m going to do what I feel within myself.

This statement reveals not only the fervor of Harrison’s belief but another aspect of him that Greene brings out but does not explore as analytically. Harrison was plainly conflicted in many ways. While he loved his Beatle bandmates like brothers, Harrison detested the inability to shed that past. He felt trapped by the never-ending mania over and fascination with the Beatles and the public’s seeming inability to regard him and the others as anything but Beatles.

Harrison initially embarked on his spiritual quest to find refuge and solace from the never-ending spotlight of Beatledom. Greene’s work leaves little doubt, though, that Eastern philosophy not only helped bring peace and inner well-being to Harrison’s life, it contributed to some excellent music in ours.

George Harrison in Joshua Greene’s Here Comes the Sun