One of my favourite moments in Pop occurs a minute or so into Something by The Beatles, when George Harrison sings, twice, ‘I don’t know’.
As the accompanying music swells, George, never the most robust of vocalists, has to strain a bit to answer his own previous line, ‘You’re asking me will my love grow’. The first time he replies there’s resignation in his voice – but the second time, arguably, some irritation.
As a member of the Fab Four in 1969, George Harrison could do pretty much whatever he liked. (He not only wrote and sang the sublime Something, for instance – he reeled off its exquisite guitar solo too.) But hey, nobody can read the future. By acknowledging in three short words – I don’t know! – that some issues can’t be categorically resolved, this world-historical icon showed he was also nakedly, constructively human.
Today, by contrast, the dominant voices within our politico-cultural complex seldom proclaim their uncertainty about – well – anything.
In the spoof rock-documentary This Is Spinal Tap, the band’s vocalist suggests that a visit to Elvis Presley’s grave ‘puts perspective on things’. ‘Too much f****** perspective,’ his guitarist demurs. For years we members of the public have likewise been subjected to far too much f****** certitude.
God alone knows what fiendish problems will go on arising to face the world in 2025 – but just watch our presidents and pundits rush to announce they have the solutions, while rubbishing everyone else’s alternatives. The occasional initial Harrisonesque ‘I don’t know’ might at least give all of us a little more room for manoeuvre.
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