This is an extract from an article by John Harris, published in Mojo magazine, issue 92, July 2001. I was reading this again last night, and thought I'd post it here for anyone interested. Work began on All Things Must Pass at Abbey Road in late May. Jim Gordon and Carl Radle had reunited with Clapton and Whitlock at a PP. Arnold Session, and were duly booked; George also used - among others - Ringo, Klaus Voormann, Billy Preston and Gary Brooker. In addition, he inflated the sound by employing Badfinger to play acoustic guitars and percussion. With horns from Jim Price and Bobby Keys, the work took on a Cecil B. De Mille aspect. Adding to that impression, though most songs were split between the Clapton-Whitlock and Ringo-Klaus factions, on a few ocassions the two bands played as one. Three keyboards, two drummers, six guitars...the rootsiness of Big Pink and John Wesley Harding were nowhere to be heard. And small wonder: Phil Spector, an integral part of Beatledom since his work on the Lei It Be tapes, was producer. All was not right with Mr Wall Of Sound, however. "He used to have 18 cherry brandies before he could get himself down to the studio", George said in 1987. "I got so tired of that because I needed someone to help. I was ending up with more work than if I'd just been doing it on my own." "Sometimes it became too much", Klaus Voormann confirms. "He was just laughing all the time. In the end, I think George was getting fed up with him, so he did some of it himself. He was getting very drunk. Crazy. He just didn't stick to one thing - he'd suddenly be off doing something that had nothing to do with the record." "Spector communicated with us a bit", says Badfinger's drummer Mike Gibbins. "He used to call me Mr Tambourine Man. He was an oddball. He spent most of his time laying under the console, listening. I thought he was sleeping half the time. But it was a big experience for me, being a Welsh bumpkin. We were in awe. It was a Beatle, for Christ's sake. Not to mention Clapton. Having said that, George was very nervous about the whole deal, playing with all those master players. He told me, 'I guess you've got to jump in the deep end sometimes'". Among the extras was one Phil Collins. "I was about 16 and I was in a very shabby band", he remembers. "I got a phone call - would I like to go down to Abbey Road and play percussion on George Harrison's new album? Of course, I leapt up in the air and got in my car and got to the studio. And there was Phil Spector, Ringo, Maurice Gibb, Badfinger, Billy Preston, George, Mal Evans and all these notorious people I had heard of. I was asked to play percussion on this track. I had never played Congas or anything like that before. Anyway, the way Phil Spector used to work would be to say, 'OK, let's hear the keyboards, the drums and the guitars play through the track'. And every time he said 'Drums' I played, figuring he meant me. Since I'd never played Congas, my hands were getting pretty bad blisters by the time half an hour had gone past. And then he said 'OK, let's hear the bass, the acoustic guitars, the guitar and the drums.' And he'd go through all these combinations from the control room. About two and a half hours later, he says 'Right, Congas, you play this time!' My hands were bleeding by then. He hadn't been listening to me at all." In July, after a long struggle with illness, George's mother...died in Liverpool, and the sessions were put on hold. To complicate matters yet further, Clapton was obsessing over Patti, as Bobby Whitlock...well knew. "At one point I said, Why don't you just go out and fight it out? I knew everything. Everybody knew it. George didn't give a s**t, but Eric didn't know that." A more benign distraction was the occasional presence of Hare Krishna devotees. "At one session, we were half way through one of the tunes, and a Hare Krishna guy jumped out of the piano," laughs Mike Gibbins. "He was hiding in there - in a big Steinway grand! He jumped out and started dancing. George had to shud the session down and kick him out. 'Hare Krishna!' **** off". "We'd be Playin', and here come these Hare Krishna guys, bouncin' in, slingin' out flower petals and givin' out peanut butter cookies", recalls Bobby Whitlock. "We were recordin'! I thought these guys were faries. With their bald heads and paint and s**t. They would just show up. George had a whole s**t oad of 'em, livin' out at Friar Park. They were all camped out in some kind of commune or somethin'. They were everywhere. Peanut butter cookies out their ***, I aint kiddin' you. The sessions ended just as autumn arrived. By then, Clapton, Radle, Gordon and Whitlock enlisted Duane Allmann and journeyed to Miami, where they would become Derek and the Dominoes and resume work on Layla And Other Assorted Love Songs. The album...had begun life during grabbed moments in George's sessions. For one reason or another, Eric's presence on All Things Must Pass remained a secret. "He's on nearly every track there is," marvels George today. "Like, the very first note on the album is Eric - I'd Have You Anytime. In those days, the record company - both mine and his - didn't like you to have your name on other people's records. Very possessive. If you look on the sleeve of the last Cream record, my credit is L'Angelo De Mysterioso or something. That was me. He just didn't get any credit because they said you're not allowed to." The album's cover photo was a delight. In a bleached-out, creepingly eerie photo, Harrison - looking like a green-fingered mystic - posed in wellies and hat. Surrounding him were four garden gnomes, seemingly in a state of either repose or exhaustion. Those looking for symbols duly took the hint: this was George's way of calling time on The Beatles. "The gnomes had been taken from Friar Park at one time, before George moved in," says the photographer, sometime Dylan associate Barry Feinstein. "Someone called him and asked him if he wanted to buy them back. He said, 'Yeah', so they dropped them off. The last day we were there, I went out on the back lawn and saw them there, and figured that was the shot. I got a chair, sat him down, and did some pictures with an umbrella, and some without. We finished within 20 minutes." And the gnomes represent The Beatles? "Yes. Well, that's what I thought when I saw them. I picked the gnomes because it looked like a good picture, and I thought symbolically that that's what it could be. Did I mention it to George? I really don't remember. But that was in my head. What else could it be?" Just four gnomes. "Yeah, but you know it was over with The Beatles, right? And that title All Things Must Pass. Very symbolic." All Things Must Pass was rock music's first triple album, swelled to such a gargantuan size by the 'Apple Jam' disc...thus, it came in the kind of box that was usually only required by opera labels. "It was a bloody big thing", says Tony Bramwell. "It took ages to deliver a hundred of them. You needed arms like an orang-utan to carry half a dozen. And it was a huge thing to plough through - we said to people, 'Listen to My Sweet Lord and then get into the rest of it as you go along. People were taken aback: 'God, what's that? A doorstop?"