Of all the Beatles, and indeed of most celebrities, John Lennon was one of the most forthright and honest artists. He was not afraid to voice unpopular opinions, and at heart he was a deeply felt humanitarian. His premier solo album, John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band, is among his best work, revealing his inner turmoil, and ultimately, his humanity.

John Lennon's life did not begin easily. His father left home before Lennon was born, and his boisterous mother soon left him in the care of her authoritarian older sister. Even as child he felt different from most others, a loneliness that would dog him for most of his life. When he was a teenager, Lennon entered into a happy association with his mother, only to have it cut short by her untimely accidental death. He found solace, expression, and success in rock'n'roll, but ultimately the Beatles' fame would isolate him from the world even more. He was simultaneously revered as a prophet of the new age and denounced as a godless charltan. With the break up of the Beatles and the conclusion of the revolutionary 1960s (its aspirations unfulfilled, at least in his mind), Lennon attempted to redefine himself. The artistic expression of this was released to the world in 1970, as John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band.

Perhaps one of his best solo works, Plastic Ono Band is Lennon exposed and unadorned, filled with brutal honesty and heartfelt emotion. It is a musical poem of pain and rage, and the structure of most of its songs can be divided along these lines. Lennon's compostions of despair and anguish are performed in a bluesy gospel style, his vocals never more heavily imbued with soul. His anger is released in rough rock'n'roll, with strident, distorted guitar riffs and a voice that nearly growls and spits the lyrics out. All the arrangements are simple and uncomplicated (Lennon on piano and guitar, Ringo Starr on drums, Klaus Voorman on bass), the songs' stark quality heighten the bare emotional impact of the lyrics. Only three of the album's incredible eleven songs will be discussed here (at least for now): Mother, Isolation, and God.

The tolling of funeral bells open the album and establish its somber tone; this will be no light-hearted musical endeavor, rather it is a portrait of a soul in agony. Mother introduces us to what Lennon believes is the primary cause of his life's pain: his virtual abandonment by his parents. In the first verse he tells his mother of his suffering ("I needed you but you didn't need me") and bids her farewell ("I got to tell you/Goodbye goodbye"). The second verse mirrors the first, this time it is the memory of his father he casts off ("Father, you left me but I never left you"). In the third, Lennon addresses the audience, sadly and with gentle affection, he urges us not to make the same mistakes he made ("Children, don't do what I have done/I couldn't walk and I tried to run"). This said, it would seem that Lennon has finally cast aside the mantle of parental abandonment and past trauma, yet this is illusion; in the end he screams for his parents to return and love him ("Momma don't go/Daddy come home").

The instrumentation for this song is merely piano, bass, and drum kit. The beat is slow and insistent, unsettling yet compelling. It reenforces the painful necessity that the lyrics impart. The piano gently conveys the tragedy of the situation.

In Isolation, the album's fifth composition, Lennon tells us of the separation he feels from the rest of humanity, of how vulnerable and exposed he feels under the intense scrutiny of the public ("People say we got it made/Don't they know we're so afraid/Isolation/We're afraid to be alone/Everybody got to have a home"). During the bridge, Lennon retreats from his indirect indictment of people, accepting that we are all human and that we're all "victims of the insane" world. In the last verse he confesses his anguish in that while he believes relations could be better between people (the isolation in this song refers not only to Lennon's "loneliness at the top", but to our individual loneliness as well), there may not be time left to accomplish this.

The slow, bluesy piano accentuates the tragedy of the verse. Starr's drumming is excellent; slow and not intrusive, filled with pauses that emphasize space (re: isolation).

Throughout the album, Lennon has given vent to all the rage and torment in his psyche, and an issue that demands resolution is finally examined: what will he do with all the hurt he has uncovered? God, the album's piece de résistance, stunningly answers this question.

A tremendous compostion of throwing aside shackles, of accepting death, and ultimately of rebirth. Lennon begins by addressing one of the most fundamental concerns of existence: what is God? God, he answers, is a deception, a "concept by which we measure our pain". This painfully illustrative statement reveals not only the immense hardships Lennon suffered (so great that he cannot believe in a just and kind God that would permit such things), but also points the way toward eventual salvation. This statement is of such import that he repeats it.

The middle of the song begins to pick up the momentum and it raises tensions. Lennon engages in a litany of denuciation of those ideas we desparately cling to for support, casting aside saints and saviors, magic, religion, and politics ("I don't believe in magic...I-Ching...Bible...Hitler...Jesus...Kennedy"). At the end of this list he hits upon the icons that influenced him immensely: pop superstars. He demolishes the myths of Elvis and Zimmerman (Bob Dylan); finally and most drastically, for the song has been steadily approaching this dreadful moment of reckoning, Lennon declares that he does not believe in the Beatles. There is a moment of stunned silence to allow the enormity of the statement to sink in, both for the singer and the audience.

In a quiet, drained, and relieved tone (for having finally voiced this) Lennon tells us he just believes in himself and his wife. The song's resolution is achieved in the third verse, where Lennon wearily accepts that the "dream is over", that the 1960s' high ideals are gone. He thrusts aside the 1960s' Beatles hero worship that was imposed upon him isolating him from everyone else ("I was the walrus/But now I'm John"). He urges us to find within ourselves the spiritual strength and self-sufficiency to endure ("dear friends/You'll just have to carry on") and make ourselves, and the world, better.

The music brilliantly captures the essence of the lyrics' emotions. The piano intro is, once again, bluesy, slow, and elegantly simple. During the bridge, abrupt and strident piano chords ring out in quick procession, building the tension. The melody of the intro returns in the third verse, slightly faster and upbeat, emphasizing the strength of the convictions revealed, while not lapsing into forced (or unreal) gaiety.

If there is one personal quality of Lennon's that stands out in this song, it is his humanity. Many others have (self-indulgently) given vent to their private grief, bitterly decrying those things that have failed them (eg Pink Floyd's The Final Cut), but Lennon remains singular in declaiming not only those external paragons, but his own myth as well. His reference to the audience as "dear friends" is indicative of his desire to deconstruct the gulf separating him (rock prophet/counterculture icon) from us (followers or vilifers), and to urge us to save ourselves from being let down by grand deceptions when the answers lie so close at hand (within ourselves).

It has been said that to truly understand the art, one must understand the artist. The reverse is also true. Lennon's Beatles work illuminated one aspect of him, Plastic Ono Band sheds light on another. It is intensely personal, honest and without pretension. It remains a frank and moving portrait of John Lennon, human being.

John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band: The Artist's Anguish ©1998

Bibliography

1. Du Noyer, Paul, We All Shine On, New York: HarperCollins Publisher, Inc., 1997.
2. Mellers, Willifred, Twilight of the Gods: The Beatles in Retrospect, London: Faber and Faber, 1973.
3. Riley, Tim, Tell Me Why: The Beatles: Album By Album, Song By Song, the Sixties and After, New York: Random House, Inc., 1988.

   

   
   
   

   

   ---