The Ten Worst George Harrison Guitar Solos

George Harrison, the so-called “quiet Beatle,” has been canonized by know-nothing fans and rock critic fanboys as some mystical slide-guitar guru, a saintly arranger, a man who could conjure melodies with the grace of a saffron-robed monk. That’s the myth. The truth is, when it came to solos, George often sounded like a kid at Guitar Center trying to sneak in a few licks before the staff told him to stop touching the merchandise. Compared to Clapton’s fire, Page’s black-magic sorcery, or Mick Taylor’s lyrical blues work, George’s solos were polite apologies in six-string form. Here, then, are his ten worst soloing disasters, ranked from “eh, maybe no one noticed” to “please bury that tape in Abbey Road’s backyard.”

10. “Taxman” (1966) George’s big political statement — and he couldn’t even solo on it. Paul McCartney had to play the lead. Imagine writing the song, then watching your bassist swoop in to make it listenable. That’s like baking a cake, then being told by the neighbor kid they’ll handle the frosting because you’re just not up to it. Strike one. “If you can’t solo on your own song, maybe don’t put ‘man’ in the title.” —New Musical Express

9. “Something” (1969) Fans claim this solo is “romantic” and “tasteful.” It is not. It’s limp lettuce. Instead of soaring, George tiptoes around like he’s worried about waking up the downstairs neighbor. Clapton, meanwhile, was pouring molten heartbreak all over “Bell Bottom Blues.” One man bleeds on the fretboard. The other gingerly asks if you’d like some herbal tea. “It’s less ‘Something’ and more ‘Nothing much.’” —Melody Maker, 1970.

8. “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” (1968) The Beatles’ only guitar epic. Who plays the lead? Clapton. Because George knew his own solo would have made the guitar nod off. Outsourced passion, Exhibit A. Imagine being such a damp squib that you bring in your buddy to play the emotional centerpiece of your magnum opus. Clapton wept. George gently sulked. “Eric Clapton: George’s designated hitter.” —Rolling Stone, years later, still laughing.

7. “Here Comes the Sun” (1969) One of the most beloved songs in the Beatles’ canon, its acoustic shimmer is fetching, but there’s a reason there’s no solo. If George had tried one, it would’ve sounded like a dentist carefully probing a molar. Sometimes omission is mercy. “Nature abhors a vacuum. Harrison solos abhor existence.” —Rock Critic

6. “All Things Must Pass” (1970) This was supposed to be a spiritual triumph, a statement of cosmic transcendence. Instead, George’s noodling dribbles out like half-set Jell-O at a Krishna potluck. Notes stumble, phrases sag — the whole thing is one long sigh of missed opportunity. A title track undone by its own author. “The notes must pass, and mercifully they did.” —Creem Magazine.

5. “Piggies” (1968) The White Album is a zoo, and “Piggies” is its petting corner. George’s “solo” waddles in like a drunk uncle at Thanksgiving who insists on showing you his banjo skills. Clapton or Page could’ve roasted those pigs on a spit. George poked them with a plastic fork from a drive-thru. “More oink than ink.” —Anonymous EMI engineer, probably drunk.

4. “You Like Me Too Much” (1965) His early solos are textbook examples of “is he still learning?” This one sounds like a twelve-year-old’s first attempt at blues licks. The phrases are short, awkward, and whiny — like someone trying to play “Louie Louie” with mittens on. One wonders if George ever listened back to this and thought, “Yeah, nailed it.” “You like me too much? Not after this.” —Disc & Music Echo, 1965.

3. “For You Blue” (1970) George takes up slide guitar here, and the results are so weak that actual steel guitars should have unionized to block his entry into the trade. Lennon ends up carrying the song on piano just to keep the corpse twitching. “For You Blue”? More like “For You Booed.” “Sounds like someone left a kazoo on a radiator.” —George Martin’s inner voice, unspoken but deafening.

2. “Old Brown Shoe” (1969) This is supposed to be funky, but George’s solo is like a man in orthopedic shoes trying to dance at Studio 54. Painful, stiff, and utterly square. The solo lurches and plods with all the groove of a malfunctioning washing machine. Funk died a little that day. “Brown shoe, brown sound.” —Pete Townshend, allegedly, after smirking through a playback.

1. “Roll Over Beethoven” (Live, various years) The Chuck Berry standard should be a slam dunk for any lead guitarist. It’s rock ’n’ roll 101: snarl, swagger, attitude. George manages to turn it into a timid plod. His solo is so apologetic it should end with “sorry for bothering you.” If Berry had heard this version live, he would’ve demanded reparations. Rock deserved better.

Final Nail George Harrison wasn’t a bad guitarist—he was an OK rhythm player, a tasteful arranger. But soloist? Against Clapton’s fire, Page’s sorcery, or Mick Taylor’s silk, George was the kid at the talent show playing “Mary Had a Little Lamb” on one string. No wonder his guitar gently wept—it was embarrassed.

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