Something in the way it feels, attracts me like a cauliflower | MARK HUGHES COBB

So last week's column worked, obviously, as Donno from "Big Sky" remains alive. Pretty certain the only reason that's true is because I personally pleaded with creator David E. Kelley for the formerly worthless slug's now not-so-worthless existence. Donno's rolling again, ready to make happy sandwiches and perhaps a life with his love Tonya, though she insists a kiss is just a kiss, when a guy might die.

While I'm on a power roll with eternity, please give me: a pony, preferably purple; a vintage Telecaster in black with red flame accents; world peace; a time machine to go back and fix, well, everything; a new Tron movie without Jared Leto; a Hollywood generally sans Leto; my young running knees back; my young running back back; and an answer for "How do I get your legs?" that doesn't annoy the nice kids at the gym.

Oh, and also I'd like a talent for keeping my guitars always in tune, and, while I'm at it, playing as I think I can play when I'm dreaming. It's not that I'm bad, exactly. I've gotten paid to play in rock bands, blues, folk, jazz and show ― a couple of orchestra-type gigs ― so I do all right.

Just not the way I'd like, which would be like, for example, the late Jeff Beck, who could make his instruments squeal, cry, wail, whine, ululate and several other verbs. Though he did sometimes play with singers ― Keith Relf in the Yardbirds, and some kid named Rod Stewart he picked for his the Jeff Beck Group ― Beck made more with six strings than Mariah Carey can at Christmas, at least more in the sense of artistic longing, exulting, thrilling sensations, sounds so visceral you could feel them shiver down to your bones.

And all he had to do was sit down and what, rehearse six-seven hours a day for forever years?

Yeah, maybe I'm OK with staying OK.

But it's not so cool losing your shortcomings in front of others. In 2019, the Prentice Concert Chorale put on a couple of Beatles tribute concerts, for which I was privileged to sit in, playing guitar, and singing lead on a few. I'll never forget how Leslie Poss, the Prentice Concert Chorale's director/conductor, approached me on the Bean-Brown Theatre stage after a hot summer night's performance of "Grease" ― I was admiring the Greased Lightning car; Leslie had just taken bows as the show's musical director ― and asked: "Hey Mark, what Beatles songs do you know?"

By which I understood her to mean what did I know well enough to sing and/or play. That's one of those questions answered easier by saying "What Beatles songs do you NOT know?"

The answer: "Revolution No. 9." Though with some backwards-running tape, an actual train, and a chorus of special effects makers, we could probably fake it.

More:Do not kill Donno: Let the redemption ride roll | MARK HUGHES COBB

For my turn at the mic, we settled on "Can't Buy Me Love," one of the early, most exhilarating blasts of fresh air, and "Something," George Harrison's ultimate love song, the kind that simultaneously refers to something specific ― or someone, probably Pattie Boyd Harrison, who also inspired "Layla," "For You Blue," "Bell Bottom Blues," "If I Needed Someone," "Wonderful Tonight" and "I Need You," so muse on that ― and can still feel utterly universal.

In Peter Jackson's "Get Back" documentary series, showing the boys pre-30, but post-fame, trying to work together again at Abbey Road, there's a hilariously revealing running gag ― though it's only funny in retrospect ― where John Lennon and Paul McCartney spend most of their time in collaboration, heads bowed together, talking, laughing, exchanging ideas, while Ringo Starr sits quietly behind the drum kit, mugging if he sees the camera, and George bounces up and down (metaphorically) trying to draw attention. Throughout the nearly eight hours, George grows increasingly frustrated, actually leaving the group at one point, though (SPOILER) returning a bit later.

Partly he's annoyed because they're still treating him like a kid brother, intent on giving him only one or two token songs per album, despite the fact that he's built up such a stockpile of gems that he'll soon burst out what's possibly the best of the post-Beatles solo albums, "All Things Must Pass."

One of the things he keeps trying to show the guys is "Something." Astounding how much musical matter was flying around the studio air, when a song of this magnitude can be half-lost due to inattention. At one point John does offer a helpful bit of lyric-writing advice, as George struggled to complete the line "Attracts me ... " John suggests: "... like a cauliflower." George laughs, throws in "... like a pomegranate." Tension temporarily broken, he moves on and, spoiler again, completes one of the songs so much-loved that Frank Sinatra, in covering it, frequently tried to credit it to Lennon and McCartney.

It sounds like damning with faint praise, but being mistaken for the most beloved, productive songwriting team in pop history could be viewed otherwise. George probably grinned as he cashed the royalty checks. His pomegranate song got taken on by not just Sinatra, but Shirley Bassey, Joe Cocker, Elvis Presley, Lena Horne, Smokey Robinson, Ray Charles, the O'Jays, James Brown and (checks notes) Liberace? Some figure it's been covered more than 200 times, making it the second-most-covered of Fab Four ditties, after "Yesterday."

"Something" works not just because of the wistful, yearning vocals, built over a simple five-note melody, the descending lines and that strikingly uplifting refrain: It's also noted as one of George's finest guitar works.

George and Ringo have often been underrated on their main instruments, due not to shortcomings, but to the times and settings in which they played. Guys like Beck, Jimi Hendrix, Duane Allman, Jimmy Page and Eric Clapton (Who, as George's pal, sat in a few times, most famously on "While My Guitar Gently Weeps") were burning up the frets, reinventing and exploring electric-guitar blues, but George, drawing more on rockabilly, surf and country-style finger-picking, played with greater cool, more restraint. It's the kind of guitar that's not meant to smack you in the face. George was playing as part of a band, collaborating toward a sound. As the virtuouso Richard Thompson noted, you should ideally always be playing the song, not your guitar.

Yet on "Something," George transcended, not in flash and dazzle, not in silly notes-per-millisecond shredding, but in touch and feel. Soul.

So for the rest of that summer, even while on vacation in Savannah, I carried Liz (my Taylor) around, hammering at that solo, something (it's nearly impossible to avoid) I'd never tried before, for some reason. It involves bends, twang and twiddly bits, and yes, I'm pretty sure those are authentic music words. The more I tried, the slightly closer I got.

As the fall concert approached, I chickened out, frankly, and when Leslie asked me about musicians to hire, I threw out Jonathan Harms, an astoundingly fluid and flexible guitarist. I'd seen him not just with Soapy Jones' Pink Box Burlesque and Mama Dixie and the Prize Inside combos, but as soloist for a wedding I was performing. Could I have played the parts for that show? Sure. Maybe. Probably. Could I play "Something"? Passably. I do read music, but slowly, like a second language. When lines dip into the bass clef, I need a translator.

Harms, wizard that he is, takes one glance at the sheet music, and plays the "Something" solo perfectly. Spot on. I wasn't jealous at all.

Honestly, no. It was a privilege then, and it will be again, as the Prentice Concert Chorale returns to the "Let It Be" Beatles tribute concerts this weekend, for which I'm again thrilled to play a small part. Performances will be 7 p.m. Thursday and Friday (Jan. 26-27) and again at 2:30 p.m. Sunday (Jan. 29), all at Grace Presbyterian Church, 113 Hargrove Road. The $20 tickets help support the Prentice Concert Chorale's classical work. We're using some old arrangements, some new, and I'm sure they'll all come together.

There will be more, and it will be ....

Reach Tusk Editor Mark Hughes Cobb at mark.cobb@tuscaloosanews.com, or call 205-722-0201.

This article originally appeared on The Tuscaloosa News: A little 'Something' without any cauliflower | MARK HUGHES COBB