They strolled through the gardens of Clapton’s Surrey estate. George picked up a borrowed acoustic guitar—a Gibson J-200—and sat on a lawn chair in the weak English sunshine. The clouds parted. Just for a moment. And out came a riff so pure, so childlike, it felt like it had existed forever: dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun…
At 1:43, the guitar solo arrives. In a band famous for fiery leads, George plays something astonishing: a melody . It’s not fast. It’s not loud. It bends and sighs like a man stretching his arms toward the light. It is the sound of a knot untying itself. here comes the sun beatles
It is not a song about weather. It is a song about survival. They strolled through the gardens of Clapton’s Surrey