1971’s Concert for Bangladesh, an era-defining event and live album that set the template for the large-scale benefit concert as we know it today.
In the spring of 1965, while filming a scene set at an Indian restaurant (Help! film), George began toying around with a sitar belonging to some hired background performers. Fascinated, he purchased his own, and brought it to the studio for Rubber Soul, their next album, to accompany John Lennon’s “Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown).”
The pair met and discovered they were kindred spirits. Shankar began instructing Harrison on melodic structure and playing technique, as well as the underlying spiritual discipline. As Harrison’s interest grew more sincere, he became so preoccupied with the sitar that he essentially abandoned the guitar for a period. George found new meaning in Indian music and philosophy. Times changed—the ’60s ended, the Beatles broke up, Western mainstream interest in Indian music subsided—but George remained. His friendship with Shankar would prove to be one of music’s richest.
In the summer of 1971, the pair were in Los Angeles finishing the soundtrack of Raga, a documentary about Shankar’s life that Harrison and Apple, the Beatles’ multimedia conglomerate, were helping finance and distribute. But Shankar’s mind was elsewhere.
The Indian subcontinent had been divided into two independent nations in 1947 after decades of British colonialism. Each of them housed a religious majority: Hindu India and Muslim Pakistan. The partition triggered a massive, horrifically violent wave of migration; the division of Pakistan into two non-contiguous territories, one on each side of India, was especially precarious. Although East Pakistan had a slightly larger population, the government was based in West Pakistan, over a thousand miles away, resulting in many political, cultural, and economic disparities. In March 1971, East Pakistan declared independence, adopting the name Bangladesh, and West Pakistan responded with a brutal attempt to quell the movement for autonomy. Over the next nine months, between 300,000 and 3 million Bangladeshi people were killed in a military and militia campaign that has since been recognized as a genocide.
Millions of refugees poured into India, straining an already exhausted system.
As a Bengali himself, Shankar wanted to plan a benefit concert to raise awareness and funds for the refugees. He hoped that one of his famous friends, perhaps George or actor Peter Sellers, might be willing to introduce the show and help bring in a little money—maybe $25,000 if they were lucky. When Shankar told George about the unfolding humanitarian crisis, the guitarist immediately volunteered his services. George suggested that they raise the stakes and release an accompanying film and album. things moved quickly from there. Harrison spent the following weeks planning the concert and enlisting friends to perform,it was decided that the Concert for Bangladesh would take place on August 1 at Madison Square Garden. There would be two shows, an afternoon set and an evening set, both of which were recorded for the album and film. Tickets were all $10 or less and sold out in a few hours.
At the top of each performance, Harrison emerged to address the audience. With Shankar, he implored them to listen to the performance of Indian music that opened the show with concentration and respect. “Through our music, we would like you to feel the agony and also the pain and lot of sad happenings in Bangladesh and also the refugees who have come to India,” Shankar explained. Their instructions were prescient: After the musicians—Shankar on sitar, Ali Akbar Khan on sarod, Kamala Chakravarty on tambura, and Alla Rakha on tabla—tuned their instruments, the audience burst into applause.
“Thank you, if you appreciate the tuning so much, I hope you will enjoy the playing more,” Shankar remarked.
With that, Shankar and Ali Akbar Khan launch into “Bangla Dhun,” an emotional instrumental piece that draws on Bengali folk melodies. The duo’s rapport is instinctive and familial, having played together since they were young adults; Khan was both Shankar’s brother-in-law and the son of his guru. The two maestros begin the piece with a brief alap, an improvisational, contemplative exploration of the raga’s melodic possibilities. Chakravarty’s tambura drone and Rakha’s tabla join as the players transition into a medium-tempo gat, the more structured portion of the composition. About halfway through, as the pace increases to a breakneck drut laya, Shankar and Khan’s playing is so heated it seems to erupt into fireworks.
Up next was Harrison, who was admittedly nervous to lead the show. “Personally, I prefer to be a part of a band, but...it was just something that we had to do in order to get the money and we had to do it quick so I had to put myself out there and hope I’d get a few friends to come and support me,” he said at a July 27 press conference. When the lights came back on, it was clear how modest he was being: He had recruited a 24-piece band that included Ringo Starr, Eric Clapton, Leon Russell, Billy Preston, Klaus Voormann, the Apple band Badfinger, a horn section, a seven-piece soul choir, and more. All agreed to perform without a fee.
In a white two-piece suit with the Om symbol embroidered on the lapel, Harrison exudes a radiant maturity; it’s staggering to remember that he was only 28 years old.
The Concert for Bangladesh also marked the first time that Harrison performed songs from All Things Must Pass, his triple-album opus from the year prior. During “My Sweet Lord” and “Awaiting on You All,” two of All Things Must Pass’ most overtly religious songs, you can hear his yearning for connection with a higher power reach the rafters of MSG. Both songs espouse the belief of Harrison’s beloved Hare Krishnas, that through “chanting the names of the lord...you’ll be free,” and the gospel choir and Preston’s high-voltage organ playing heighten their joyousness. The acoustic “Here Comes the Sun”, the amazing “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”, “Something”...
Bob Dylan played long-dormant folk classics like “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “A Hard Rain’s a-Gonna Fall.”
The concert closed with a performance of Harrison’s recent charity single “Bangla Desh,” often regarded as the first of its kind. Harrison begins by offering some narrative context: “My friend came to me with sadness in his eye/He told me that he wanted help before his country dies...Now I’m asking all of you to help us save some lives.” Then, George starts sing "Bangla Desh”.
The Concert for Bangladesh was a clear and immediate success. Ticket sales raised around $243,000 for UNICEF, nearly ten times Shankar’s initial expectation. Overnight, the name Bangladesh and its people’s plight became known to the world, which was the sitarist and organizer’s priority. But the celebratory bubble burst quickly. The album was beset by delays and issues with taxes and performance rights; proceeds from its sale were held by the IRS for years. “It was uncharted territory, the scale of it,” Apple employee Jonathan Clyde told The Guardian years later. “The money did eventually reach Bangladesh, although perhaps not in time to help the refugees at that point.” The Concert for Bangladesh topped the charts and won a Grammy for Album of the Year.
The Concert for Bangladesh’s successes—its camaraderie, humility, and triumphant money-raising—established the framework for large-scale benefit concerts as we know them today. Fundraising magnate Bob Geldof reportedly reached out to Harrison for advice when planning 1985’s multi-continental Live Aid event. (Harrison’s advice: “Do your homework.”)
With star-studded lineups that ensure broad news coverage, benefit concerts continue to be an effective (and popular) way for celebrities to raise money and awareness for a cause. The Concert for Bangladesh was a musical triumph and a momentous collaborative effort. In 1972, alongside Allen Klein—the late-era Beatles manager who was partially responsible for the concert’s financial disarray—Shankar and Harrison were awarded UNICEF’s “Child Is the Father of Man” award for their fundraising efforts. Shankar, had come to view his collaborator as family. He later said, was “my student, my brother, my son, all combined.” If Harrison’s earliest interest in Indian music had involved some trendy, The Concert for Bangladesh demonstrated that his commitment—to the music and the people themselves—had blossomed into something deep and profound.
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