Tag Archive: Imagine


Eros

Barenaked Ladies

If you’re my age (which is 31 – I can no longer be trusted), you probably remember the Barenaked Ladies. They didn’t fit any profile of rock stars, and you weren’t really sure if they were a gimmick band, a serious band, or somewhere in between. They had a gargantuan smash hit with “One Week” in 1998, which I bopped along to the first 100 times I heard it, and was completely sick of the 101st (which was in the same week as the 1st). Seriously, this song was everywhere. Besides being on my CD player (I’m one of the 4 million who bought Stunt), it was all over the radio, in movies and commercials, and blaring in the convertible next to me and my sister at a stop light. We were blaring it too, by the way…

Despite no one having heard of them one week before “One Week” came out, they had actually been around for 6 years, debuting in their native Canada in 1992 with Gordon. It had only three standout tracks: “Brian Wilson,” “If I Had $1,000,000,” and “Be My Yoko Ono.” The third is about a guy who wants his girlfriend to follow him around everywhere he goes, and would even break up his band and give up rock and roll stardom just to be with her. The lyrics include a pun on Ono (”oh no!”) and Ed Robertson doing an amusingly accurate imitation of Yoko’s trill voice effect.

To delusional Beatles fanatics who just can’t admit the truth or let things go, Yoko Ono is responsible for breaking up the Beatles. She’s a demonic witch who cast a spell on John Lennon, making him quit the band, keeping his spirit and his penis in a box for her own purposes and crushing his soul, meanwhile crushing everyone else’s souls by depriving them of the greatest rock and roll band that ever lived. Yadda yadda yadda…

Here’s the juice. John found something with Yoko that was bigger than the Beatles: eros. That’s one of the Greek words for love – the passionate, sexual and romantic love humans feel for other humans. I don’t just mean a roll in the hay, to use a rather innocent term. While sex is definitely involved, that’s only part of it. What John and Yoko had, and what literally billions of other couples have, is a deep, abiding and eternal connection that surpasses words. That connection is physical, emotional and spiritual all at the same time, and it is the most important and momentous thing a person can have with another person. Eros, despite what those Yoko-hating fanatics will tell you, is bigger than the Beatles.

“Oh My Love” captures a large part of the essence of eros. It’s a very simple and sweet song, disarming in the way it floats down slowly on the listener. The song is pretty short, so it’s easy to miss its soft and uncomplicated loveliness. John says his “eyes can see” and his “mind can feel.” It talks about trees and sky and clouds and wind (Yoko has been trying forever as an artist to film the wind), and how John never really experienced any of them before he met Yoko. The simplicity of the beauty here takes my breath away.

Eros, when misused, can turn to zilia, or “jealousy” to us American folk. John experienced that, too, and talks about it in “Jealous Guy.” Though it’s probably addressed specifically to Yoko, it’s really an apology from anyone who’s hurt anyone else in the past. This is probably John’s most naked and honest song, more so than anything on Plastic Ono Band. The first verse lays completely bare in the simplest of terms the progression that ends with John’s destructive behavior. John was always given to jealousy, and it sometimes manifested in the most violent ways. But when he met Yoko, something changed in him; not just his behavior, but his mindset, which gives rise to behavior.

But the ultimate statement of love between the two comes in the form of the song “Oh Yoko!” The arrangement is stupidly simple. The song has five verses, yet only one word is changed from verse to verse, and the chorus is merely one phrase repeated. But by God, if this isn’t one of the prettiest, most touching and gosh-darned lovely songs in the entire world. John reveals here that he just a huge, lovesick puppy dog. If this doesn’t melt your heart into a gooey and flower-smelling puddle, you may as well move to Tibet and become a monk.

days after John’s death, Rolling Stone ran this cover without comment

In all honesty, John’s had a lot of bumps in the road. His volatile personality with the press, his statements about Jesus, his egocentric habits, and his lack of respect for the Queen of England are unfortunate, but those things all fade. The things that last are his enduring spirit of harmony, his dogged quest for mutuality and peace, and of course his eros.

Next: What’s the most epic record of all time?

Primal Scream

The Beatles died their first death in September of 1969 when John Lennon finally quit the band, but nobody knew it outside their tight circle. They were still on the airwaves with new music, since their final album Abbey Road was released that same month. John, at the behest of the other Beatles, had agreed to keep it a secret and not announce his departure publicly. In the meantime, John released “Give Peace a Chance” and “Cold Turkey” under the moniker Plastic Ono Band.

As late as April of 1970, the world was laboring under the delusion that the Beatles were still together, safe in the comfort that all was as it should be, despite the lack of a single release in 6 months. John had kept silent like he promised, but then Paul announced his own departure from the band, simultaneously releasing his first solo album, simply titled McCartney.

Paul beat John to the punch with the announcement of the breakup, put the attention solely on himself, and sold lots of records, the songwriting profits from which would go directly to Paul instead of the Lennon/McCartney team. With all three things, Paul left John royally screwed over. As you might have guessed, John was just a wee bit upset.

This latest act of selfishness on McCartney’s part was just the final straw in a long string of issues and complications John had endured throughout his life. They included the death of his mother, trouble at school, the death of Stuart Sutcliffe, his difficult relationship to his first wife Cynthia – and his physical abuse of her – and the baggage from the birth of his son Julian. That’s a lot of riders on the camel of John’s emotions. So what did he do? He screamed a lot.

Theoretically, primal scream therapy ought to work like a charm. You have a bad experience, you scream, you get it all out, and then it doesn’t bother you anymore. Arthur Janov basically says that we accumulate and hold on to traumatic experiences throughout childhood, and they manifest themselves repeatedly until they are finally let go of through some sort of release. That’s where the screaming comes in.

Despite John Lennon’s ringing endorsement (as well as that of a few other celebrities) that caused its popularity to spike in the early 70s, it fizzled soon afterwards due to the lack of definitive outcomes to prove its effectiveness. Real psychotherapists never put much stock in it, and it now exists as the quintessential psycho-fad.

John Lennon’s first proper solo album came directly out of his primal scream therapy. It was officially called John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band, and it was the very first time the world was looking at John and seeing all his baggage lying nakedly out there for all to see. It’s a complete mess, formless and unregulated, unified only by John’s unhindered exploration of his entire psyche. Imagine has form and appeal that Plastic Ono Band doesn’t, and also has the beauty, grace and focus John found through his experience with primal scream. POB was John in the middle of his scream, and Imagine was where he took a deep breath and said, “let’s see about moving forward.”

However, John was not above personal attacks. There’s just one on Imagine, but it’s a doozy. “How Do You Sleep?” sees John simply letting his vitriol fly, all directed at Paul McCartney. John’s pretty nasty here; he calls Paul “a pretty face,” says he’ll last “a year or two” on his own, and is still holding on to bitterness over the Beatles’ most commercially successful song being the Paul-penned banal toss-off love song “Yesterday.” He insults his prowess as a songwriter, something only a consummate song-spinner like John can feel comfortable doing. The only thing left is calling Paul bad in bed.

The other Beatles must have thought Paul had been a real douche-bag, too. George lent his talents on the slide guitar to “How Do You Sleep?” and guested on 4 other tracks. Ringo was hanging around the studio, but didn’t play. Paul was nowhere to be seen.

Next: John and Yoko – stupidly, sickeningly, beautifully in love.

Discernment

John Lennon had a way of seeing into the truth of things. All the masks people use to hide their true selves were just smoke screens to John. Not only did he not really have any of his own, but he could see past other peoples’ and get a glimpse of who they really were. It’s one of the reasons I admire him so much, for I share that quality. I see what a person projects sub-consciously as well as what they want me to see. Sometimes I’m pretty myopic about certain things, and I often have no idea what to do with my knowledge, but I can usually look at a situation and tell what’s really going on.

The technical term for that is “discernment.” John’s own discernment is no clearer than on the track “Crippled Inside.” Humans have all sorts of masks that they hide behind, and to someone like John (and me), they’re frustrating because they’re so pointless. It’s like an elephant holding up a little twig and saying “You can’t see me!” On “Crippled Inside,” John cuts right to the quick and leaves you with nowhere to hide. Its bouncy and music-hall melody make it easier to swallow, but it’s always gone down pretty easily for me; just like John, I don’t have any masks, either.

John’s frustration with the facetiousness and contrivance of scared little men comes from a simmer to a boil in “Gimme Some Truth.” The sentiment in this song is yet again something I completely understand. Seeing the truth of a matter makes it even more frustrating when people purposely try to conceal it. Politicians are the easiest to blame, and John has some pretty unkind words to say about them. When a politician says something, I know that what they don’t say is even more important than what they do. There’s often a hidden agenda behind their smooth words and breezy attitude, and a si9ngle statement probably doesn’t mean exactly what it says.

Politicians have the gift of spinning something until it revolves around what they want it to revolve around, but it usually doesn’t work on me. I know there’s some hidden side that they’re not discussing nearly every time they open their mouths. The direction they want it to go is usually along the lines of what their constituents and their political party wants to hear. Republicans and Democrats have packages of things they say, and you can almost predict what they’re going to say as if from a script. It just takes a little discernment to unravel their manipulation.

Taking a different than both “Crippled Inside” and “Gimme Some Truth,” the smoky, bluesy hypnosis of “I Don’t Want to Be a Soldier, Mama, I Don’t Want to Die” uses heart and soul instead of the blunt approach of the other two. Instead of talking plainly about lies and deceptions, John reveals on “Soldier” his existential longings, his desire to find his place and finally be comfortable in his own skin. He lists all the things he doesn’t want to be, but what does he want to be?

John and I may share a discerning nature, but John had a big advantage I don’t have, and that’s boldness. My interest in harmony and not starting fights is quite often bigger than my desire for complete honesty. John, on the other hand, saw harmony as something that had to be fought for. It wouldn’t just generate on its own, so we need to work to create it, and then work some more to maintain it. This is great wisdom, and all too often people let their own needs and desires trump the principles of peace, love and coexistence.

“all we are saying is give Jesus a chance!”

What’s ironic is that in fighting for peace and harmony, John Lennon was one of the most controversial figures of his day, generating a lot of discord. Isn’t that term strange? “Fighting for peace.” All in all, John Lennon may have been in the papers as out in front for the struggle for peace, but he didn’t actually create any harmony until his tragic and senseless death. While it’s not true that real artists aren’t appreciated in their own time, it is true that words aren’t usually enough to change people’s hearts. Sometimes things need to get a lot worse before they can get better, and it often takes something as horrible as a murder to put things on a different and more positive path. Just look at Jesus.

Yes, I really did just draw a parallel between John Lennon and Jesus Christ. Deal with it.

Next: it wouldn’t be a John Lennon album without a personal attack or two.

This is a simple but beautiful tribute by Coloradream to John Lennon and his music, life, love and legacy. All you need is love.

Strawberry Fields

The Washington Arch at WSP

For those 23 months I lived in New York City, I often found myself walking, enjoying the various parts and seeable sights that Manhattan had to offer. I had several favorite places to go. Washington Square Park was an obvious and easy destination; just a block and a half from our apartment, I could just take little stroll and be there instantly.

During the summers, there were two street performers there who were there at least three afternoons a week. They were called Tic and Tac; identical twin brothers from Harlem, the only way you could tell them apart was one of them always wore an American flag bandanna on his head. They often finished each other’s sentences, though I’m pretty sure that was just a script. They did a mostly acrobatic show with lots of audience participation, and witty repartee was a huge part of their act.

Rockefeller Center was another common destination. Besides loving the architecture and design of the outside and the spectacle of the shops, there was the TODAY Show. I had started watching Matt, Meredith, Ann and Al in the mornings on TV shortly after arriving in New York, and once I got my bearings in the city (and the willingness to get my carcass out of bed, dressed and up to 48th St.), I watched the show live on the plaza many times. I even appeared on camera once; it was raining that day, so I got to be right behind where the hosts film the 8:30 segment. Meredith even recognized me when I came back, probably because I proudly wore my Red Sox hat in enemy territory (Meredith is a huge Sox fan). I’ll admit it – I fanboyed a little.

But without question, my favorite spot in Manhattan is a park bench in Central Park, on the east side at the 72nd St. entrance. There’s a circular flagstone mosaic on the ground flanked by several park benches; it simply says IMAGINE in the middle. This is Strawberry Fields, a memorial to John Lennon, right across the street from the Dakota, the posh apartment building where he lived for the last part of his life, and where he was murdered.

I went there on Lennon’s birthday, and on the anniversary of his death, but I would also just go there, just because. I found myself drawn there sometimes. Some magnetic force compelled me. It could have been Lennon’s spirit, but I think it was something bigger – music in general , maybe.

I have great respect for John Lennon, perhaps more than any other rock star. Even the term “rock star” conjures up images that Lennon seems somehow above. He lived his life as a warrior for peace and a living example of the power of love. His zeitgeist is one of enduring hope for millions of people.

That is not to say I agree with everything he said, or even match up with him in thought and deed. He is someone I greatly admire and respect, but not someone I seek to emulate. His life was filled with turmoil, and he spent most of it hurting the people closest to him. For a long time, he allowed the demons of his past to affect his present, thus determining his future. He broke away from his demons when he married Yoko Ono, but in that he proved himself even more un-emulation worthy by cheating on his wife.

Imagine – John Lennon – 9/9/1971

The biggest bone I have with his mindset is expressed in the title song of his 1971 solo album, Imagine. It’s the most popular and iconic song of his solo career, and it has become a totem and a symbol for anyone who seeks to create harmony out of discord. My own experience with it has been different, though, and my perception of “Imagine” comes a little out of left field.

I first heard the song when I was about 7 years old. I was not supposed to be watching MTV (my parents had disallowed it for me and my sister) when I saw the music video. Besides what I instantly thought was an excessively pretty piano riff at the beginning, the first lyric is “Imagine there’s no heaven.” As a 7 year-old Christian with Christian parents, I couldn’t imagine there not being a heaven. When he followed with “It’s easy if you try,” I did actually try. And you know what? It bummed me out. If there was no heaven, there was no God. Even my immature brain could make that connection. And to my young mind, an existence without God was no existence at all. That’s still true for me.

Now that I’m a grown-up (whatever that means…), I understand that the heart of John’s message in “Imagine” is tearing down all the walls that divide people and eliminating all the things people use as weapons against each other. In order to have peace, we must no longer think in a singular way, but instead have the best interests of all people at the forefront of our minds. Things like religion, country and possessions force us to focus on what is only our own and not care about anyone else. We can also use those things for purposes they weren’t intended for, to hurt one another.

So John’s approach is this: if those things cause us to be like that, then why don’t we just get rid of them? What would happen if we did get rid of them? Can you just imagine??? That, in and of itself, is a pretty positive message.

I’ve taken quite some time to come to this, but my own approach is different. John wants to get rid of those things, but I think they’re essential parts of who we are. In particular, religion is woven into our human fabric; it’s our way of understanding God. There can’t be God without there being religion, because he would have no way of talking to us, and that’s not the kind of God he is. We can’t get rid of religion anymore than we can get rid of oxygen.

So what, then? Are we doomed to a selfish, destructive cycle we can’t break out of, repeating the same mistakes over and over? Well, no. Evil things have been done by people in the name of religion, but that doesn’t make religion evil – it makes the people evil. But even people can’t be truly and completely evil. They still have a God spark somewhere inside them, and that gives hope to each one of us.

Sermon over.