In a modest studio far from the roar of stadium crowds, George Harrison — the most introspective of The Beatles — offered his final gift to the world. It was not a planned farewell, nor a grand send-off. It was something much simpler, and far more profound.
On that quiet summer day in 1997, Harrison appeared on The George & Ravi Show — a VH1 special honoring his lifelong friend and collaborator, Ravi Shankar. There was no tour, no promotion, no spotlight seeking. Just George, his guitar, and a room filled with calm respect.
A Moment Without Noise
When asked if he might sing something, George agreed with his signature humility. Perched on a stool with his guitar, he performed two songs — both rich in reflection and quiet emotion.
The first was “All Things Must Pass,” the title track from his 1970 solo masterpiece. Stripped of production and sung with gentle weariness, it felt like a whispered truth — as though he was offering a final reminder that everything, even life itself, is fleeting.
The second song, “Any Road,” was new to most. Harrison had begun writing it back in 1988, but it had never been performed publicly — until this moment. With warmth and wit, the lyrics gently explored the journey of life. It would later become the opening track of his posthumous 2003 album, Brainwashed.
Humble to the End
When the final notes faded, Harrison smiled softly and said, “I could go home and practice a bit and do it properly.” The audience chuckled, but many felt the weight of what they’d just seen — a man at peace, giving all he had without pretense.
The Last Time
Unbeknownst to many, this would be George Harrison’s final public performance. In the years that followed, he would retreat further from the spotlight, focusing on family, friends, gardening, and spiritual reflection. He passed away in November 2001 after a long illness, surrounded by loved ones and, as ever, enveloped in music.
But that day in New York, with only a handful of people in the room and millions more who would later watch from afar, George quietly closed the curtain on his public life — not with a bang, but with grace.
His voice was soft, his playing unvarnished, but the message was eternal:
“All things must pass.”
And yet, in moments like this, some things — like George Harrison’s gentle soul — feel as though they never truly leave us.
