Dark Horse was a true reflection of George Harrison’s dark mood.

Far less religious in tone than his previous solo albums, Dark Horse was nevertheless a low-key musical barometer of how far George’s mental outlook had disintegrated. Always big on irony, George recruited Pattie to sing back-up vocals on his cover of the Everly Brothers’ classic ‘Bye Bye Love’. The first single off the album, ‘Ding Dong’ had as its B-side the non-album cut ‘I Don’t Care Anymore’. Dark Horse was, in essence, George Harrison throwing in the towel, throwing up his hands and surrendering.

This was a difficult album for audiences. The solemn nature turned off those who had become accustomed to George’s sense of spiritual hope and, as had been the case with previous albums, the dearth of pure pop and rock cancelled out those who continued to hope against hope for a truly Beatles-type album from George. Consequently, while the single struggled to crack the Top 40 in the US and England, the album topped out at number 36 in the States while it failed to chart in the UK.

Following his 1974 tour, George and Olivia retreated to his England home. Press interest in George remained high and it was with increasing reluctance that he continued to do interviews, most focusing on the critical failure of both the tour and the Dark Horse album. While he stated that neither bothered him, his words rang false. To the world at large, George was either fooling himself or denying the obvious, which was that in the one area he could always count on for solace, he was now vulnerable.

Away from the public eye, George was now in a personal hell of his own making. His musical failures had dragged him into a deep depression and, while he was loath to admit it, the consensus was that Pattie’s leaving him had also cut deep. The change in George became evident throughout 1975. He could be wildly social when he wanted to be but George now rarely left his home and had cut himself off from all his friends. Reportedly, his drinking and drug use, already at a high level, increased and he became verbally abusive when provoked even by his closest friends. In his darkest moments George even began to doubt his religion.

Through it all, Olivia proved her loyalty and love, ignoring her lover’s boorish behaviour and often admonishing him for feeling sorry for himself and encouraging him to get on with his life. Admittedly, it was not easy for Olivia to stand by this difficult, often contrary man and no one would have blamed the young woman if she had bolted. But Olivia was a firm believer, despite their not being legally married, in ‘for better or worse, in sickness and in health’. And so she bit her lip, suffered in silence at her frustration and she stayed.

Eventually George cautiously ventured back into the recording studio. It was a tentative step. Admittedly, he was still shell-shocked at the failure of Dark Horse but, even in the depths of depression, George had been writing and felt that what he had justified another album. From a purely business point of view, he owed one more album on his Apple contract and with the seemingly never-ending legal entanglements with the other members of the Beatles, he was anxious to sever that tie finally, once and for all.

And so it was with widely mixed emotions that he went into the studio to record Extra Texture (Read All about It). The easygoing nature and interplay that had marked previous recording sessions was replaced by a straightforward, largely impersonal approach. The album was technically superior. Emotionally, with such songs as ‘This Guitar (Can’t Keep from Fighting)’, ‘World of Stone’, ‘Tired of Midnight Blue’ and ‘Grey Cloudy Lies’, the album was extremely maudlin and fatalistic and largely devoid of the usual religious elements.

Given this reality, it is surprising that Extra Texture (Read All about It) did respectably, with the album cracking the Top Twenty in both the US and the UK. The single ‘You’ did less well, reaching number twenty in America and a disappointing number 38 in the United Kingdom.

Not too surprisingly, there was little call for George to tour, and even less inclination on his part. George took the mediocre showing of Extra Texture in his stride and returned to a source of solace, tending his garden.

George, now in his mid-thirties, remained very much the reclusive personality into 1976. His public appearances became fewer and farther between. Word began to spread among the few friends George saw that he was not only emotionally distraught but that physically he was starting to break down. George did not take any of the concerns seriously until one morning he absently stared into a mirror. He did not like what he saw.

His eyes were an unhealthy yellow hue. His face was drawn and decidedly thin. He knew in his mind that he had lost a considerable amount of weight. George had to face the fact that he was not well. And in time of crisis, George turned back to religion. George went to guru Paramahansa Yogananda’s book Scientific Healing Affirmations, a Krishna-based tome postulating that physical ills could be banished through prayer.

Olivia, always the practical member of the partnership, none too delicately insisted that George see a doctor. But George felt that prayer was the answer. And so Olivia watched helplessly as George began chanting a series of mantras designed to restore health. But as the days and weeks went by, and his condition seemed to worsen, George gave in to Olivia’s insistence and agreed to be examined by a real doctor.

The news was not good.

The years of physically abusing his body, particularly the ever-increasing use of alcohol and drugs, had resulted in significant liver damage and hepatitis. The doctor prescribed large doses of vitamins. George was scared enough at the diagnosis to immediately give up drinking and drugs. He once again turned to prayer. But his prayers were not answered and his health continued to suffer.

Olivia became frantic at George’s physical decline and did extensive research on her own for a possible answer to what had suddenly deteriorated into a life-threatening illness. Finally she contacted a California acupuncturist named Dr Zion Yu, who had a reputation of being able to cure any malady through this ancient science. George was predictably sceptical when Olivia suggested he see Dr Yu, but eventually he gave in. The couple travelled to California where George submitted to a series of acupuncture treatments. He noticed an immediate improvement in his physical well-being and, in a matter of months, was miraculously on the road to a complete recovery.

George’s state of mind also began to rebound in 1976. He entered the studio that year to record his next album, and his first for Dark Horse Records, 33⅓. The tone of the sessions was much more lighthearted and loose than they had been on Extra Texture, due in large part to the fact that George had settled into a less pompous and more easy-going approach to songwriting, and the fact that, for the first time in a long time, George was beginning to loosen up and enjoy himself.

Late in December 1975, he had taken the first step in getting back in the public eye when he did a guest spot on the popular BBC television series Rutland Weekend Television. In April 1976, he once again travelled to New York City where he sneaked into the chorus of ‘The Lumberjack Song’ during the City Centre performance of Monty Python’s Flying Circus.

But George’s spirits were about to go dark once again.

After years of behind-the-scenes legal wrangling, the lawsuit against George charging plagiarism in the ‘My Sweet Lord’/‘He’s So Fine’ case had finally reached the courts in January 1976. And so, when he should have been spending his time in the recording studio, George and a literal army of attorneys were spending their days in a crowded, rancorous New York City courtroom, listening with growing agitation and frustration as accusations and half-truths were bantered back and forth.

At one point in the trial, George took the stand and, guitar in hand, explained, in a mind-bending array of technical terms surrounding things like major and minor chords, how the song came into being. In all fairness, George’s memory of the origin of ‘My Sweet Lord’ had become vague in the ensuing years. But the story he finally presented to the judge appeared to be a fairy tale, with little reality.

According to legal accounts of the case George, Billy Preston and a group of faceless musicians and back-up singers conceived the early structure of the song while on tour in Copenhagen, Denmark. The transcript further reported that, a week later, George and Preston returned to a London recording studio and, in a recording session that George alleged he did not play on, Billy Preston and some other musicians came up with the basic musical structure of ‘My Sweet Lord’.

Nowhere in this version of the story did George make mention of the backstage jam with Delaney Bramlett, Bonnie Bramlett and Rita Coolidge. In fact, Delaney’s involvement in the scenario was nonexistent. Given that, Delaney was certainly surprised when, at a point during the trial, he received a telephone call from George and his lawyers.

‘They wanted me to fly to New York to testify,’ recalled Delaney. ‘But I had a previous engagement for the time they wanted me and they couldn’t change the time so I couldn’t go. So they got in touch with Bonnie and she went and testified. After Bonnie testified, the judge said her testimony was hearsay, and didn’t allow it.’

On 7 September 1976, US District Court Judge Richard Owens found that while he did not feel that George had ‘deliberately’ plagiarised the song ‘He’s So Fine’, there was substantial evidence that he did infringe on the song’s copyright. George was found guilty and ordered to pay damages in the amount of $587,000.

George was taken aback by the court decision and cynical in his comments in the wake of the decision. ‘I don’t even want to touch the guitar or the piano in case I’m touching somebody’s note. Somebody might own that note, so you’d better watch out.’

George would put his frustration to good use – composing the song ‘This Song’, a biting bit of satire centred around his legal problems. Unfortunately, the ‘My Sweet Lord’ decision would not be George Harrison’s last brush with the legal system.

Dark Horse Records had been only mildly successful to that point, and parent company A&M Records had been counting on George’s first Dark Horse release to pull the label into the black. And so when the 26 July 1976 deadline for delivering 33⅓ came and went, A&M president Jerry Moss was concerned. George assured Moss that the delays were both creative and personal and that he would have the finished master tapes any moment. Two months later George hand-delivered the tapes for the album to A&M’s Los Angeles offices.

To his shock and surprise, George discovered that A&M was readying a $10 million lawsuit against him because he had not delivered the album on time. Once he got over the fact that A&M had been quick on the trigger to jeopardise their professional relationship because the album had been late, he made the decision to take his album and his record company elsewhere.

None of this should have come as any surprise to George Harrison watchers. In his personal and professional life, the temperamental former Beatle had a history of taking offence and burning bridges without too much thought. In the face of the A&M threat, his more ruthless side surfaced. He knew that a former Beatle had a certain amount of cachet, despite a spotty solo career, that any record company would be happy to inherit. And so George took his completed album across town to Warner Brothers Records and made them an offer they could not refuse. They could have the new album and Dark Horse Records if they bought out his contract obligations with A&M. In return, George agreed to actively promote the new album with a cross-country promotional tour, something he had been loath to do with previous discs. Warner Bros. agreed and a deal was instantly struck.

George, on the promotion trail for 33⅓, was a different animal. Alternately witty, insightful and forthcoming even on the inevitable and detested questions about the Beatles, he exhibited none of the long-held beliefs that George Harrison had run from the public never to return. And it appeared George was now quite happy being in the spotlight.

A lot of his new attitude rested with the fact that George, much like his feelings about All Things Must Pass, was quite happy with the collection of love songs and pure pop ditties on 33⅓, which eschewed any hint of his religious fervour, and, as he readily admitted to the press, he was in a much better state of mind than he had been with Extra Texture.

Record buyers also saw the change and responded by making 33⅓ one of George’s most popular albums, ultimately spinning off three singles into the upper reaches of the Top 40.

George was also encouraged later in the year when a greatest-hits package, The Best of George Harrison, was released. Never what one would consider a Top 40 kind of songwriter, George was rightfully gratified that this selection pointed out that he was indeed a songwriter of some talent, fully capable of creating memorable music.

George was now in a place he had not been in a long time. Personally and professionally he was in bliss. His physical health had returned. His love for Olivia had deepened in time. Religion was returning to his life in a much more balanced way and his drinking and drug use was now down to seemingly manageable levels. George was beginning a new phase in his life.

Now was the time to lay his past to rest. He called Eric and Pattie, who in recent years had felt too uncomfortable with the situation to be more than token visitors, and invited himself to their house. After some awkward moments and a few drinks, Eric recalled what happened next.

‘George, Pattie and I were sitting in the hallway of my house. I remember George saying, “Well, I suppose I’d better divorce her.” He managed to laugh it all off when I thought it was getting pretty hairy. I thought the whole situation was tense; he thought it was funny. That [his attitude] helped us all through the split-up.’

George’s take on the break-up was consistent with his new mellow attitude. ‘Well, Eric didn’t really run off with her because we had kind of finished with each other anyway. And, you know, for me this is what I think is the main problem. I think the fact that makes the problem is that I didn’t get annoyed with him and I think that has always annoyed him. I think that deep down inside he wishes that it really pissed me off but it didn’t because I was happy that she went off, because we’d finished together, and it made things easier for me, you see, because otherwise we’d have had to go through all these big rows and divorces.’

George and Pattie were officially divorced on 9 June 1977.

George entered a period of quiet reflection. He made occasional odd appearances in various capacities on other people’s records, playing an unannounced live set at a local pub, offering congratulations to race-bike driver Barry Sheene on the British TV series This Is Your Life and appeared in a cameo role with good buddy Eric Idle (of Monty Python) in a send-up of the Beatles – All You Need Is Cash – which aired on BBC television.

Easily in one of the most relaxed periods in his life, he was conspicuous by his gracious and outgoing nature in and around his Friar Park home. His first few visits to the local pub, the Row Barge, were a bit uncomfortable as he endured the stares of regulars. But the ice was broken one day when he was invited by one of them to join in a game of darts. He and Olivia became close friends with the bar owner and his wife, Norm and Dot, and would occasionally go out socially with them. Bar habitués were known to be invited to George’s house for a home-cooked meal. That he would often pick up the tab for the entire bar was a regular occurrence. He once stopped an interview with a local newspaper reporter to give him an impromptu lesson on guitar.

His personal life became complete in December 1977 when Olivia announced she was pregnant. George was thrilled and probably more than a little bit relieved. Although it had become less of an issue with age, George still felt incomplete that he had not had children, and his ego had bridled at the notion that he was the only ex-Beatle that was childless or, even worse, incapable of fathering a child. Now he felt complete.

It was in this rejuvenated state of mind that George stumbled into a second career: film producer.

‘It all happened purely by accident,’ explained George. ‘An English company had backed out on the Monty Python film The Life of Brian in pre-production and the guys, friends of mine, asked me whether I could think of a way to help them get the film made. I asked my business manager, Denis O’Brien, what he thought and he came back a week later and suggested that we produce it. I let out a laugh. It was a bit risky, I guess, totally stepping out of line for me but, as a big fan of Monty Python, my main motive was to see the film get made.’

George financed The Life of Brian, which went on to be an unexpected commercial success. In short order, Handmade Films was born. George was actively involved in the production of Time Bandits and, in the ensuing years, would finance such quirky films as The Long Good Friday, Mona Lisa and Withnail and I.

When he was not involved in financing films, George played at being the country squire as he beamed at the sight of Olivia’s swelling belly. He spent more time pottering about in his garden and was becoming more sociable, with a steady stream of friends drifting in and out of his home at all hours. George’s on-and-off-again romance with race cars once again returned and locals would regularly recall the sight of George spinning around town in his latest acquisition.

Cars were not his only extravagance as he moved into what could best be described as a period of semi-retirement. Although he loved his home in England, he had come to love Australia with its rugged arid lands and the tropical climes of the island of Maui in Hawaii. So it seemed quite natural to buy houses in both places, which he and Olivia could get away to when the weather turned cold or they needed a change of scenery.

During this period George also began writing songs and preparing to re-enter the studio. The songs coming out of George during this time were an unusual amalgamation of thoughts and emotions. The lyrics, as always, were reflective, but this time were full of hope and positive visions. George’s religious beliefs were once again uppermost but they were coming out in a simple, rather than heavy-handed manner. Musically, George also seemed inspired as he deviated from the expected elements of rock, pop and Indian influences and began entertaining highly divergent, often cutting-edge elements. That the album would be titled simply George Harrison said a lot about George’s feelings about his music and his world. It said that he was confident and happy. One of the benefits of this quiet time was that George was able to spend a lot of quality time with his father who, at age 65 and suffering the effects of a lifetime of smoking, did not have much time left. And so when Harold Harrison finally passed away in May 1978, George was predictably saddened but comforted by the time he had been able to spend with him towards the end of his life and the memories that would linger.

The months of Olivia’s pregnancy were a time of great joy and contentment for George. Almost daily he would caress his wife and put his hand on her stomach to feel the kick of life inside her. He kept his business commitments to a bare minimum and was never more than a telephone call away from Olivia.

With the death of their father, the always good relationship between George and his older brother Harry became even stronger. For a time, Harry had actually moved on to George’s estate and was acting as a de facto security guard for the seemingly endless fans who would squeal in delight at the mere sight of George wandering peacefully in his garden.

On 1 August 1978, George, at the quite advanced age, for fatherhood, of 38, was a bundle of nervous energy and conflicting emotions as he paced the halls of the Princess Christian Nursing Home in nearby Windsor. Olivia had gone into labour that day and would give birth to a son. True to the couple’s collective spiritual and religious leanings, the child was named Dhani, which is Sanskrit for ‘wealthy’.

George’s protective nature immediately escalated upon the birth of his son. George instantly ran out and bought a brand-new Rolls-Royce, coloured blue of course, so that his wife and son would not be bounced around on the ride home from the hospital. Overcompensation was the order of the day once the happy family returned to Friar Park. George insisted that his son not leave the house, and even those few friends and relations who were allowed to see the baby were not allowed to touch him. Harry, long used to his younger brother’s eccentricity, was astonished by George’s latest bit of nuttiness.

‘I was a bit surprised,’ Harry recalled laughingly. ‘I mean, I’ve got two kids of my own. But it must have been three or four months before he would even let me touch the baby.’

George and Olivia married in a private ceremony on 2 September 1978. It was a simple ceremony, attended only by Olivia’s parents. After a joyous honeymoon in Tunisia, George returned to England happy and re-energised and anxious to get back to the studio.

George’s change of musical direction was thoroughly embraced by his fans. The album did respectable if not spectacular business and clearly reinforced George’s reputation as the most preductive ex-Beatle and one still quite capable of producing viable music.

Throughout the years, George’s relationships with his former mates in the Beatles continued to be varied. The long and winding legal entanglements surrounding the dissolution of the Beatles and Apple Records had long soured his relationship with Paul. By the late 1970s, after years of strained phone calls, their feelings towards each other had begun to soften. And once Ringo had got over his justifiable anger at George’s affair with his wife, the pair amicably made up and became quite close.

George’s relationship with John easily had been the most complex and difficult. John’s new, often outlandish life with Yoko had long been an irritant to George’s more spiritual ways. Musically, they were also often at odds. But through it all they had managed to maintain a strong friendship. They had started out all those years ago as student and teacher. Now that they were equals in all ways, their love for each other was even stronger.

His relationship with Eric and Pattie had also improved. The discomfort they felt in earlier times had not completely gone away, but there was a mutual love and respect that overrode the darker moments and they were now quite capable of being in each other’s company and being comfortable. So much so that when Eric and Pattie decided to get married on 27 March 1979, George and Olivia were at the top of the guest list. For reasons that remain unknown to this day, George and Olivia chose not to attend the wedding.

But when Eric personally extended an invitation to George and Olivia to attend a belated wedding reception on 19 May at Eric’s sprawling country estate, they did show up and, according to those present, George was quite gracious in congratulating the happy couple. The party turned out to be an all-star collection of rock’n’roll personalities that included Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, Mick Jagger, David Bowie and George’s longtime idol, Lonnie Donegan. At one point in the festivities, the assembled musicians mounted a makeshift stage and began an impromptu and, by all reports, rather sloppy jam session.

It quickly became evident that Eric had succeeded in doing something that nobody else had been able to do; to get three of the four Beatles back together to play. George saw the irony in it all but was having too good a time rocking out to Chuck Berry oldies and the Beatles songs ‘Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’, ‘Magical Mystery Tour’ and ‘Get Back’ to think about it all too deeply.

Most saw George’s arrival at the party for Eric and Pattie as a not too surprising reflection of George’s loving and highly evolved personality and that, in his mind, all things did truly pass. When he heard about that incident, Delaney Bramlett agreed with that assessment but also claimed that, even in the kindest way, George had an ulterior motive.

‘That had to be sweet George’s slap in the face,’ he recalled laughingly. ‘In the most positive way, I think it was George’s way of getting even. It was his way of saying, “I’ve got balls enough to play at your wedding party.”’