The 1950s genre that birthed Traveling Wilburys’ biggest hit
George Harrison? Talking about skiffle in the Traveling Wilburys? For God’s sake, tell us something that we don’t already know.
Yes, of course: I’m being tongue-in-cheek about it – the whole point is that none of Harrison’s career, from The Beatles to the Traveling Wilburys to anything else in between, would have existed if the skiffle hadn’t come first. He knew it, and by proxy, we all then knew it, too. It was part of his lifeblood – simple as that.
With the genre rushing through his bloodstream in almost every moment from life to death, it was only a matter of time until it made its way into the heart of each of his endeavours. As part of The Beatles, that opportunity presented itself fairly easily, given that the rest of the band were also raised on the same sweet skiffle nectar. In the Wilburys, however, it took a little more fine-tuning.
When he did eventually strike gold within those ranks, he immediately knew that what he had stumbled upon was far too good to ignore. It was the perfect conditions – a song that suited the style of the band, was still original, and paid homage to the skiffle scores he loved so much. In Harrison’s world, ‘End of the Line’ was like winning the lottery.
Indeed, the former Beatle once plainly described the song as being “back to my roots, skiffle, really,” and there was no better way of cutting through the noise. Except, he also had to snap back to reality – he was no longer a 14-year-old listening to records in his bedroom, and this was not the ‘50s. He had other things to consider.
Namely, that involved the black hole enigma that was his Wilburys bandmate, Bob Dylan, who has infamously never been an easy man to impress. But to Harrison’s credit, he saw this as an advantage. “That’s the good thing ’bout when there’s other people in the group,” he said, before adding, “I was trying to think of a song that would feel a bit like something of a Bob Dylan tune. So naturally I got on D, the chord D.”
As it happened, it was this combination of the skiffle voices and a guitarist’s intuition that landed him just in the perfect sweet spot where he wanted to be. From there, it was almost as though the melodies came falling from the sky like some divine blues intervention, and Harrison could see the path forward so clearly now.
Nonchalantly as ever, he summarised it by saying, “And then, after half an hour, we knocked it into shape and wrote the words.” I repeat – it was as simple as that. Of course, for budding musicians the world over, the concept of smashing out a hit like ‘End of the Line’ in a matter of 30 minutes was the stuff of pure fantasy. But for Harrison and his friends, it was just another day.
This is not to say that a band like the Traveling Wilburys ever took their positions for granted. The whole point in them coming together was that they intrinsically knew they were the best of the best, and every song they subsequently put out was an exercise in flexing their powers. In Harrison’s case, though, skiffle was the heart of that – and he let it shine through at every chance he got.
