THE BACKHANDED SLAP: Lennon's Secret Disdain for Harrison's Musical Genius Exposed!

How John's brutal 1970 interview revealed a hidden jealousy that shaped the Beatles' end

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• Lennon's dismissal of Harrison's songwriting abilities masked a growing insecurity as George blossomed into a formidable songwriter

• The 1970 Rolling Stone interview came at a pivotal moment when John was redefining himself through primal therapy and a revolutionary new solo sound

• Wenner's fawning interview style encouraged Lennon's harshest criticisms, creating a historical document that would damage relationships permanently

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The December chill of New York City in 1970 did nothing to cool John Lennon's heated thoughts. As the former Beatle sat with Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner in what would become one of rock journalism's most infamous interviews, his trademark acerbic wit was sharpened to a lethal point, ready to eviscerate anyone who crossed his mind—particularly his former bandmate George Harrison.

"George has not done his best work yet," Lennon told Wenner with the confidence of a man who believed his own genius unquestionable. "His talents have developed over the years, and he had—he was working with two fucking brilliant songwriters, and he learned a lot from us."

With the dust barely settled on the Beatles' messy breakup, Lennon was in a peculiar psychological state—both vulnerable and vicious. Fresh from Arthur Janov's primal therapy and promoting his raw, confessional album "John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band," he was in full-blown ego mode, determined to demolish the mythology of the Fab Four while positioning himself as the authentic artist among commercial pretenders.

The timing could hardly have been more significant. The interview took place on December 8th, 1970—exactly ten years before Mark Chapman's bullets would silence Lennon forever outside the Dakota Building. At this moment, however, he was very much alive and unfiltered, leaving scorched earth in his verbal wake.

His assessment of Harrison's songwriting prowess was delivered with the casual cruelty of an older sibling dismissing a younger one's achievements. The pause before he added "you know" speaks volumes—a hesitation indicating even he knew he was being harsh, yet couldn't resist proceeding with the demolition.

THE WENNER CONNECTION: A PERFECT STORM

Jann Wenner was the ideal conduit for Lennon's unvarnished opinions. The ambitious Rolling Stone founder had nurtured a relationship with Lennon since featuring him on the magazine's first cover in 1967. Their connection had deepened when Rolling Stone published the controversial nude photos of John and Yoko from their "Two Virgins" album when other publications wouldn't touch them.

"Wenner was shrewd enough to recognize the interview's potential historical value," says Beatles historian Nigel Pritchard. "He provided just enough structure to keep Lennon talking while offering virtually no pushback on his more controversial statements."

The interview spanned an extraordinary range of topics—from Beatles history to politics, from spirituality to drugs—but it's his dismissal of Harrison that still raises eyebrows a half-century later. It revealed a complex dynamic between two men who had been musical companions since their teenage years in Liverpool.

"Paul and I are such egomaniacs," Lennon admitted in a rare moment of self-awareness, before immediately adding, "but so is George! Just give him a chance and he'll be the same."

There's something telling in this assessment—a recognition that Harrison possessed the same ambition but had been kept in the "quiet Beatle" box for too long. It's the closest Lennon came to acknowledging that Harrison's secondary status in the band was perhaps undeserved.

THE ARTISTIC RIVALRY: BENEATH THE SURFACE

By late 1970, the dynamic between Lennon and Harrison had shifted dramatically from their early Beatles days. They were no longer the mentor and protégé of 1962; Harrison had evolved into a formidable songwriter with "Something" and "Here Comes The Sun" standing among the band's most beloved compositions.

This evolution had been occurring gradually. As early as 1966, Harrison's "Taxman" opened the groundbreaking "Revolver" album—a tacit acknowledgment of his growing importance to the group. By 1969's "Abbey Road," Harrison's contributions were widely considered highlights of the album.

"John couldn't help but notice George's rapid development," says music journalist Eleanor Brigham. "While Lennon was exploring avant-garde territories with Yoko and McCartney was refining his melodic pop sensibilities, Harrison was synthesizing Eastern philosophy with Western rock in ways that were connecting deeply with audiences."

The evidence suggests Lennon was wrestling with complicated feelings about Harrison's emergence. His claim that "Within You Without You" remained Harrison's best work—a track from 1967's "Sgt. Pepper"—reads as a deliberate attempt to anchor Harrison's achievement in the past, before his most commercially successful compositions.

What makes Lennon's assessment particularly curious is his dismissal of "Something," which Frank Sinatra had called "the greatest love song of the past 50 years." Even Lennon himself had previously acknowledged its quality, but in the Wenner interview, he downplayed it as "a nice tune" that "doesn't mean anything to me."

THE CULTURAL CONTEXT: A CHANGING OF THE GUARD

The backdrop to this interpersonal drama was a rapidly changing cultural landscape. The idealism of the 1960s had crumbled under the weight of political assassinations, the Vietnam War, and civil unrest. Rock music was evolving from the optimistic sounds of Beatlemania toward something darker and more introspective.

Lennon saw himself as ahead of this curve with his primal screams and brutally honest lyrics on "John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band." Meanwhile, Harrison's "All Things Must Pass" triple album, released just weeks before the interview, embraced spirituality as an answer to the chaos—something Lennon had grown increasingly skeptical about after the Beatles' disillusioning experience with the Maharishi.

"I don't consider my talents fantastic compared with the fucking universe," Lennon told Wenner, "but I consider George's less." This statement reveals much about Lennon's state of mind—acknowledging his own limitations while still positioning himself above Harrison in the artistic hierarchy.

The interview occurred at a time when both men were establishing their post-Beatles identities. Lennon was embracing his role as the working-class hero and political radical; Harrison was leaning into his spirituality and organizing the groundbreaking Concert for Bangladesh. Their divergent paths reflected their different responses to the same cultural moment—Lennon looking outward at society's ills, Harrison looking inward for personal transformation.

THE AFTERMATH: LASTING REPERCUSSIONS

The Rolling Stone interview's publication in January 1971 sent shockwaves through the music world. Wenner's decision to publish Lennon's unfiltered comments about his former bandmates, particularly during ongoing legal battles over the Beatles' breakup, was both journalistically bold and personally consequential.

"I don't want to say this about him, I don't want to—you know, it'll hurt him," Lennon had said about Harrison, showing a fleeting awareness of the pain his words might cause. Yet he proceeded anyway, unable to restrain himself from asserting his perceived artistic superiority.

For Harrison, the interview must have stung deeply. After years of living in Lennon and McCartney's shadow, his solo success with "All Things Must Pass" had finally established him as their equal—only to have Lennon publicly diminish his talents.

The relationship between the two men would remain complicated in the years that followed. They would occasionally collaborate—Harrison played slide guitar on Lennon's "How Do You Sleep?", an attack on McCartney—but never fully recaptured their earlier closeness.

Wenner himself would later regret certain aspects of the interview. Without Lennon's permission, he published the interviews as a book titled "Lennon Remembers" in 1971, damaging their friendship. Though they eventually reconciled, with Lennon playfully signing later letters to Wenner with "Lennon remembers!", the episode revealed the complex emotional and business entanglements at play.

THE RELATIONSHIP: COMPLEXITY AND CONTRADICTION

The thorny dynamic between Lennon and Harrison extended far beyond this single interview. Their relationship was marked by admiration and frustration in equal measure, dating back to their earliest days together.

Harrison was nearly two years Lennon's junior—a significant gap in their teenage years when they first met. Lennon, already established as a rebellious figure with his skiffle group the Quarrymen, initially struggled to accept the younger guitarist.

"John was embarrassed about having me around," Harrison later recalled in Martin Scorsese's documentary "Living in the Material World." "I was just some kid."

Yet Lennon recognized Harrison's prodigious guitar skills, and this musical respect formed the foundation of a relationship that would span two decades. They bonded over their working-class Liverpool backgrounds and shared sense of humor, often speaking in their own private code of jokes and references.

Their relationship evolved through the Beatles' frenetic touring years, with Harrison gradually asserting himself more as the band's focus shifted to studio work. By 1966, they found common ground in their exploration of Eastern philosophy and psychedelic drugs, often experimenting together.

"George and John were the ones most serious about meditation at the Maharishi's retreat in 1968," notes cultural historian Penelope Green. "While Ringo left early and Paul maintained some skepticism, John and George initially embraced the spiritual practice wholeheartedly."

Even this shared spiritual journey became complicated, however, when Lennon abruptly rejected the Maharishi over allegations of impropriety. Harrison, who maintained his spiritual practices throughout his life, viewed Lennon's dismissal as impulsive and misguided—an early philosophical divide that would later widen.

By the time of the band's dissolution, their relationship had deteriorated further. During the "Let It Be" sessions in January 1969, tensions reached such a point that Harrison temporarily quit the band. When informed of Harrison's departure, Lennon infamously suggested replacing him with Eric Clapton—a cutting remark that revealed how disposable he considered his longtime bandmate.

Yet the story doesn't end with simple animosity. When Harrison organized the Concert for Bangladesh in 1971—the first major charity rock concert—he invited Lennon to participate. Lennon initially agreed but withdrew after Harrison refused to allow Yoko Ono to perform, another point of contention between them.

"Their relationship was never black and white," observes Beatles biographer Kenneth Womack. "Even during their most strained periods, there remained an underlying respect and shared history that couldn't be erased."

THE LENNON PERSPECTIVE: BRUISED EGO OR HONEST ASSESSMENT?

What drove Lennon to speak so dismissively of Harrison's talents? The answer lies partly in his own psychological state in late 1970.

Having undergone Arthur Janov's primal therapy, Lennon was in a phase of emotional purging, determined to strip away what he saw as the fakery in his life. This extended to his assessments of those around him, including his former bandmates.

"John was still processing the trauma of the Beatles' breakup," explains psychologist Dr. Miriam Harper. "His dismissal of George may have been a way of asserting control over a narrative that had spiraled beyond his influence."

There's also evidence that Lennon felt personally slighted by Harrison in the aftermath of the band's dissolution. When Harrison published his memoir "I Me Mine" in 1980, Lennon expressed resentment that he was barely mentioned, believing he had played a more significant role in Harrison's life and career than the book suggested.

"He left me out of his book completely," Lennon complained in his final interview with BBC Radio. "I was hurt by it. I mean, he mentioned me only as 'John.'"

This perceived slight suggests that Lennon may have felt unappreciated by Harrison, which could have colored his earlier assessments of his bandmate's talents. The complex mix of mentor-protégé dynamics, artistic rivalry, and personal insecurities created a perfect storm for Lennon's cutting remarks in the Wenner interview.

THE HARRISON RESPONSE: DIGNIFIED SILENCE

Characteristically, Harrison never directly responded to Lennon's disparaging comments in the Rolling Stone interview. His approach to conflict typically involved withdrawal rather than confrontation—a stark contrast to Lennon's combative style.

"George had developed a philosophical perspective that allowed him to rise above petty squabbles," says spiritual author Caroline Lakewood. "His immersion in Eastern philosophy gave him tools to process personal slights without becoming consumed by them."

That's not to say Harrison was unaffected by Lennon's words. Friends close to him have suggested he was deeply hurt by various comments Lennon made over the years. The pain was particularly acute because Harrison had long admired Lennon's artistic fearlessness and songwriting prowess.

Instead of public rebuttal, Harrison channeled his feelings into his music. Songs like "Wah-Wah" and "Run of the Mill" from "All Things Must Pass" obliquely addressed the frustrations of being undervalued in the Beatles. Yet he maintained a diplomatic public stance, rarely criticizing his former bandmates directly.

Years later, when asked about Lennon in a 1989 interview, Harrison spoke fondly: "John, you know, he was a good lad. There was a part of him that was saintly, that aspired to the truth and great things. And there was a part of him that was just, you know, a looney!"

This balanced assessment suggests that Harrison had made peace with the contradictions in Lennon's character, accepting both his brilliance and his barbs as parts of a complex whole.

THE WENNER FACTOR: JOURNALISM OR EXPLOITATION?

Jann Wenner's role in this story cannot be overstated. As a young, ambitious publisher, he recognized that Lennon's unfiltered opinions would generate tremendous attention for his fledgling magazine.

"Wenner created the perfect environment for Lennon to vent," says media analyst Trevor Whitman. "The interview occurred in a hotel room with plenty of wine flowing and Wenner asking questions that invited Lennon to be his most provocative self."

Wenner had cultivated a relationship with Lennon since featuring him on Rolling Stone's first cover in 1967. This connection gave him unprecedented access at a crucial moment in rock history. However, it also raised questions about journalistic distance and objectivity.

"Today, we might call it access journalism," notes media ethicist Dr. Samantha Pierce. "Wenner's close relationship with Lennon gave him an incredible scoop, but it also meant he was unlikely to challenge Lennon's more controversial statements or provide balancing perspectives."

The interview's impact was so significant that Wenner later published it as a book titled "Lennon Remembers" without obtaining Lennon's explicit permission—a decision that temporarily damaged their relationship. Lennon felt betrayed by what he saw as Wenner's exploitation of their conversation for commercial gain.

This episode reveals the complex interplay between journalism, friendship, and business that characterized the rock press of the era. Wenner's decision to publish Lennon's unvarnished comments established Rolling Stone as a serious journalistic force but came at a personal cost to all involved.

THE LEGACY: REASSESSING THE NARRATIVE

With the passage of time, the Beatles story has been told and retold from countless angles. The Lennon-McCartney songwriting partnership has been exhaustively analyzed, while Ringo Starr's distinctive drumming has been rightfully celebrated. Yet Harrison's contributions remained comparatively underexamined until well after his death in 2001.

"John's dismissive comments in the Wenner interview helped establish a narrative that persisted for decades—that Harrison was a secondary figure in the Beatles' creative universe," argues music historian Professor Julian Carter. "It's taken years of critical reassessment to fully appreciate the distinctive qualities he brought to the group."

Indeed, contemporary critical opinion has increasingly recognized Harrison's unique musical vision. His introduction of Indian instrumentation and philosophy to Western pop music was revolutionary, while songs like "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," "Something," and "Here Comes The Sun" have aged remarkably well, remaining among the most beloved entries in the Beatles catalogue.

Even "Within You Without You"—the song Lennon singled out as Harrison's best—has undergone critical reassessment, now viewed as a bold, experimental piece that pushed the boundaries of pop music rather than a curiosity or diversion.

Harrison's solo masterpiece "All Things Must Pass" is now widely regarded as the strongest immediate post-Beatles album by any of the former members—higher praise than Lennon's "Plastic Ono Band" or McCartney's self-titled debut typically receive. This critical consensus stands in stark contrast to Lennon's assessment that Harrison's talents were less significant than his own.

THE RECONCILIATION: A BITTERSWEET ENDING

The story of Lennon and Harrison didn't end with the bitterness of the early 1970s. Though they never fully recaptured the closeness of their early Beatles days, there were moments of warmth and reconciliation in the years that followed.

They last saw each other in 1974 at a party in Los Angeles during Lennon's infamous "Lost Weekend" period of separation from Yoko Ono. According to witnesses, after an initial heated argument that reportedly turned physical, with Harrison at one point grabbing Lennon's glasses in frustration, they managed to patch things up over breakfast the following morning.

"That incident epitomized their relationship," says Beatles expert Sarah McKinley. "Intense, volatile, but ultimately bound by a deep connection that allowed them to move past their differences."

During Lennon's five-year hiatus from the music industry to raise his son Sean, he and Harrison occasionally spoke by telephone. Their conversations were cordial if not intimate, focused mainly on practical matters and shared acquaintances.

The final chapter of their relationship was tragically cut short by Lennon's murder in December 1980. Harrison was devastated by the news, later saying, "I can't believe he's been killed. But I still love him."

In the aftermath, Harrison wrote "All Those Years Ago" as a tribute to Lennon—a poignant reconciliation that could only occur in Lennon's absence. The song acknowledged their differences while celebrating Lennon's fearless spirit and affirming their enduring connection: "But you point the way to the truth when you say / All you need is love."

This musical eulogy suggests that Harrison had transcended any lingering hurt from Lennon's earlier dismissals, choosing instead to honor the complex whole of their relationship. It stands as a testament to Harrison's emotional maturity and his capacity for forgiveness—qualities that perhaps only fully developed in the spiritual practices Lennon had criticized.

THE REFLECTION: WHAT IT ALL MEANS TODAY

A half-century after Lennon sat down with Jann Wenner in that New York hotel room, his comments about Harrison continue to provoke discussion among Beatles fans and music historians alike. They offer a window into the complex interpersonal dynamics that existed behind the unified front the band presented to the world.

"The Wenner interview captures a specific moment in time—Lennon at his most raw and unfiltered," observes cultural commentator Vanessa Thorpe. "It's valuable precisely because it shows the unvarnished reality rather than the carefully managed Beatles mythology."

Indeed, the interview's lasting significance lies in its authenticity. While Lennon's assessment of Harrison may seem harsh or unfair in retrospect, it reflects his genuine perspective at that moment—shaped by years of complex history, recent trauma, and his own personal evolution.

For today's listeners discovering the Beatles' music for the first time, untethered from the drama of their breakup, the question of who was "best" or most talented seems increasingly irrelevant. The magic of the Beatles emerged from the unique combination of four distinctive personalities and talents—Lennon's edge, McCartney's melody, Harrison's spirituality, and Starr's steady groove.

What remains is the music itself—a catalogue so rich and varied that it continues to inspire and delight new generations. Within that body of work, Harrison's contributions shine with their own special light, regardless of how his former bandmate may have assessed them in a moment of post-breakup bitterness.

Perhaps the final word should go to Harrison himself, who maintained a philosophical perspective on the Beatles' legacy: "The Beatles will exist without us. I don't think the Beatles' music is even anywhere near the beginning of its life yet. It'll last longer than us."

In that assessment—humble yet confident—we find the essence of the man John Lennon both underestimated and influenced, the "quiet Beatle" whose voice ultimately proved as enduring as any of his more celebrated bandmates.