Thirty Three and a Third (1976) 


 

  1. Woman Don't You Cry For Me
  2. Dear One
  3. Beautiful Girl
  4. This Song
  5. See Yourself
  6. It's What You Value
  7. True Love
  8. Pure Smokey
  9. Crackerbox Palace
  10.Learning How to Love You

 

By 1976, George Harrison had settled into an unusual space among the ex-Beatles. Unlike Lennon or McCartney, whose solo careers seemed perpetually tangled in expectation and ego, Harrison appeared to operate on a plane of his own making—indifferent to critical reception, largely unmoved by commercial pressure, and clearly more preoccupied with personal philosophy than pop stardom. If anything, Thirty Three & 1/3 is the most fully “Harrison” of all his solo records—modest, spiritual, slightly odd, and quietly excellent in places.

This is not a landmark album. There are no anthems here, no towering statements or grand declarations. What we’re given instead is a remarkably even-handed set of songs that suggest a man at peace with his gifts and limitations. The songwriting is consistently tuneful, the arrangements rich with 1970s polish—occasionally a touch too rich, in fact. There are moments where the production threatens to overwhelm the material, as if a few too many session musicians wandered into the room and were never asked to leave. But Harrison’s unmistakable voice—nasal, earnest, unpolished—and his effortless slide guitar cut through with refreshing clarity.

The tone is warm, reflective, and occasionally playful. For an artist so famously immersed in Eastern spiritualism, Harrison’s dry British wit is rarely acknowledged but often present. This Song, a cheeky response to the My Sweet Lord plagiarism lawsuit, sets a comic tone that lands somewhat awkwardly—it’s clever, yes, but hardly compelling as a single. Nevertheless, its presence signals something rare: George having a bit of fun, even if it doesn't always translate to the grooves.

Elsewhere, the material fares much better. Dear One and Pure Smokey are elegant and understated, both brimming with the kind of spiritual sincerity that marked his earlier work, but now delivered with a lighter touch. The devotional language remains, but the sermons have softened. This is less a lecture and more a conversation—one that invites the listener in without demanding they convert.

True Love, an unexpected foray into Cole Porter territory, should by all accounts be a misfire. And yet, it works. Somehow Harrison’s delicate reworking avoids pastiche and manages instead to reveal his affection for the melody and sentiment beneath the standard. It feels oddly sincere, as if sung more to amuse himself than to please the market. Crackerbox Palace, another highlight, showcases Harrison’s playful surrealism and gift for melody, while Woman Don’t You Cry for Me offers a rare jolt of rhythmic energy—funk-tinged and infectiously loose. Neither song aspires to profundity, and that’s precisely what makes them enjoyable. There’s no pretense here, just sound craftsmanship and a clear sense of self.

If Thirty Three & 1/3 did not set the charts ablaze, it nevertheless marked an artistic recalibration. After the uneven excess of Dark Horse and the drift of Extra Texture, this album reminded audiences—and perhaps Harrison himself—of why he was loved in the first place. He was never the most charismatic of frontmen, nor the most consistent of songwriters. But he was, at his best, deeply human, spiritually curious, and capable of moments of quiet brilliance.

Here, at 33⅓ RPM and 33⅓ years old, he found his groove again—modestly, gently, and with a wink.

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