Somewhere in England (1981) 


 

  1. Blood From a Clone
  2. Unconsciousness Rules
  3. Life Itself
  4. All Those Years Ago
  5. Baltimore Oriole
  6. Teardrops
  7. That Which I Have Lost
  8. Writing's on the Wall
  9. Hong Kong Blues
  10.Save the World

 

Of all George Harrison’s solo efforts, Somewhere in England occupies an awkward and largely unloved corner—less overtly disastrous than Dark Horse, but not by any means a return to form. If anything, it is an album whose most interesting feature is the backstory behind its release: a rejected original version, a forced retooling by Warner Bros., and a final product that somehow manages to feel both compromised and uninspired.

The opening track, Blood from a Clone, sets the tone—a petulant jab at the record label’s meddling, but lacking the wit or bite to make its complaint land effectively. Harrison had, by this point, grown used to writing songs about people annoying him—critics, executives, even his own fans—but here the snarl is dulled, and the satire lands with a thud. It is music as memo. What follows is largely a shuffle through half-hearted ideas and faded melodies. The arrangements are flat, the performances sluggish, and Harrison himself sounds disengaged, as though simply fulfilling an obligation. The production, soaked in early-'80s sterility, does nothing to revive the material. One is left with the impression that Harrison was, quite simply, somewhere else—both literally and mentally—when this album was made.

The record’s one commercial triumph, All Those Years Ago, is of course the much-noted tribute to John Lennon, recorded in the immediate wake of his murder. It features Ringo on drums and backing vocals from Paul and Linda McCartney—an ersatz Beatles reunion, at least on paper. But nostalgia does most of the heavy lifting. As a song, it is serviceable, but curiously dispassionate given the weight of the subject matter. The melody never quite matches the emotion implied in the lyrics. That it climbed the charts says more about timing than merit.

Elsewhere, Teardrops emerges as the most palatable track, a polished, radio-friendly pop tune that almost justifies its inclusion as a single. Ironically, it was one of the “replacement” songs hastily written to satisfy Warner Bros.’ demands for something more marketable. That it stands as one of the album’s few bright spots is perhaps all one needs to know about the imagined quality of the original submissions.

Speaking of which, two Hoagy Carmichael covers—Baltimore Oriole and Hong Kong Blues—arrive mid-album like guests from a different party. Their inclusion is puzzling. One assumes Harrison meant them as tributes, but within the context of the record, they function more as curios—charming in isolation, but completely out of step with the surrounding material.

The remainder of the album drifts by without urgency or distinction. Songs begin, linger, and conclude without ever really going anywhere. Harrison’s vocals sound weary, his guitar largely anonymous, and the overall mood is one of listless obligation. It is the sound of an artist going through the motions, out of love with the machinery of his own career. In the end, Somewhere in England is, regrettably, something inconsequential: a faint, flickering signal from an artist who, for the moment, had little left to say and even less desire to say it loudly.

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