Extra Texture (1975)
1. You
2. The Answer's at the End
3. This Guitar (Can't Keep for Crying)
4. Ooh Bab (You Know That I Love You)
5. World of Stone
6. A Bit More of You
7. Can't Stop Thinking About You
8. Tired of Midnight Blue
9. Grey Cloudy Lies
10.His Name is Legs (Ladies and Gentlemen)
If Dark Horse was a stumble, then Extra Texture is the sound of Harrison attempting to steady himself—only to discover the pavement is still rather slippery. It begins with the faint promise of recovery, a slight upwards arc in songwriting and production, but quickly descends into one of the most inert and uninspired chapters in his solo catalogue. Still, it must be said: this is better than its predecessor. That this faint praise qualifies as progress is perhaps the most damning commentary of all.
The opening track, You, is a minor triumph. Buoyant, brassy, and unashamedly pop, it glides in with real momentum and hints at the kind of crisp melodic instincts Harrison once deployed so effortlessly. It is also, tellingly, a song resurrected from an earlier recording session—suggesting that the best of this record may already have had one foot in the past. Its melodic lineage traces directly back to What Is Life, and if it echoes familiar territory, it does so pleasantly enough.
Then, oddly, Harrison revisits the track in miniature at the start of Side Two—A Bit More of You, a recycled snippet inserted with a shrug, as if to admit the barrel is not only being scraped, but done so publicly. It’s hard to avoid the impression that Harrison, creatively depleted, stretched two-and-a-half decent ideas across ten tracks, layering them with languid arrangements and somnolent pacing.
The Answer’s at the End is the only other true highlight—melodically engaging, emotionally textured, and featuring a guitar performance that actually suggests Harrison was awake during the session. It’s also the last point on the record where inspiration seems present. What follows is a sequence of tracks so stylistically flat and rhythmically drowsy, one begins to wonder whether the album’s title wasn’t meant as a wry joke about the content.
This Guitar (Can’t Keep from Crying) revisits the spirit, if not the brilliance, of While My Guitar Gently Weeps. But where the original had fire and anguish, this one has only echoes. It’s not a sequel so much as a pale imitation. The sentiment is recycled, the structure uninspired, and the effect depressingly hollow.
The album’s finale, His Name Is Legs (Ladies and Gentlemen), is either a surrealist tribute to Bonzo Dog Band drummer Legs Larry Smith or a prank left in the mastering room by mistake. Either way, its inclusion is baffling. It bears no relation to the tone or themes of the rest of the album and feels more like a studio afterthought than a closing statement.
Throughout, the songs are curiously sluggish, performed with the energy of a rehearsal and the urgency of a bank holiday. The band plays politely, the production is passable, but the spark—the earnest ache or sly spiritual irony that once defined Harrison’s best work—is largely missing. Extra Texture doesn’t offend so much as it disappears. The songs float by inoffensively, a kind of sonic wallpaper, forgettable by design.
There are flashes—hints of a former master trying to make sense of himself in an era that no longer demanded it—but they are brief and infrequent. Extra Texture isn’t a catastrophe. But in its lethargy, it becomes something arguably worse: forgettable.
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