(The Praeger Singer-Songwriter Collection) Ben Urish, Ken Bielen-The Words and Music of John Lennon-Praeger (2007) (14 page)

Ono’s heritage. Most of the lyric is in English with the Japanese phrases

sprinkled throughout the song. As in “Oh Yoko!” from the
Imagine
album,

Lennon notes that calling out her name makes a difference in his life. It is a

cure for melancholy.

Lennon had begun work on the song two years earlier, with the lyrics tell-

ing the loved one to “call my name,” the song’s original title, for assurance

and comfort. “I’ll ease your pain” was the line instead of “aisumasen.” The

song might have worked better with that perspective, but the roles were

reversed when Lennon returned to the song, and the direct address of Ono

was added as well. Interestingly, by the time the album was released, the

couple had separated. Lennon might really have had something for which he

needed to apologize.

The second verse, in which he uses the word “pain” three times, casts a

look back at the primal scream therapy that informed his
Plastic Ono Band

album. Lennon sings of how hard it is to “feel your own pain” when the

hurts of the past rise to the surface, a phrase he had employed in the earlier

album’s “I Found Out.”

A sterling guitar solo continues to plead the case, ending somewhat

abruptly, as the lightly hypnotic flow of the supporting instrumental passage

locks on one note and fades. The hypnotic flow is no accident and in some

ways bears a sonic similarity to Lennon’s late-era Beatles song “I Want You

(She’s So Heavy)” from
Abbey Road,
also inspired by Ono. “Aisumasen” has

a rhythmic current not unlike a slowed down, semi-acoustic version of the

earlier song. The abrupt ending of “Aisumasen” sounds as if the apology

has been rejected and there is no point in continuing. Despite the slightly

unnerving abjectness of the song’s tone, it is one of the stronger cuts on

the album and would likely have been even stronger had Lennon kept the

original lyrical point of view.

Uninspired and uninspiring couplets of images that complement or

contrast one another make up the lyrical structure of the love song “One Day

(At a Time).” Lennon combines “weakness” and “strength,” “together” and

50 The Words and Music of John Lennon

“apart,” “apple” and “tree,” and “door” and “key” along with other images

in the song that celebrate his relationship with his “woman.” In the final

verse, he repeats four of the image couplings to summarily close the song.

The underpinning motto of the Alcoholics Anonymous support group

has been “one day at a time” for many years. For a while, it seemed to be

the most popular automobile bumper sticker. Lennon asserts that the same

motto is useful for a romantic relationship, but comparing a romantic unity

to a method for surviving the debilitating effects of drug/alcohol addiction

is a rather unnerving choice.

The production seems to try too hard, not succeeding in supporting or

complementing the song but working as if to cover up its shortcomings and

failings. Lennon sings in an oddly chosen, whispery falsetto that reinforces

the tentative nature of the lyrics. This is clearly what he was going for, but

what is not so clear is why. One almost wishes that he were being ironic and

mocking rather than straightforward. Keyboard and saxophone join in but

do not salvage a rather vapid effort. Strangely, Elton John covered the song

with Lennon on guitar for the flip side of John’s remake of Lennon’s Beatles

classic “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” the next year. Oddly, John managed

to match Lennon’s cloying performance. Odder still, a rehearsal recording of

the song on the
John Lennon Anthology
is not sung in the annoying falsetto,

and, while the song’s other weaknesses are still evident, it is far easier to take

at face value than the final version.

“Bring on the Lucie (Freda Peeple)” is an anti-authoritarian/antiwar song

directed at world leaders who send their sons and daughters off to fight.

Lennon seems to be rallying the band to battle as he calls them “over the

hill” before the great slide guitar work begins that anchors and buttresses

the sinuous rhythm of the song. Lennon’s vocals are emotive and powerful,

light years beyond the insipid performance of the previous number. The first

verse seems to be an address to a gathering of diplomats, such as might be

found at the United Nations, perhaps from the delegates of Nutopia. He

understands that this is the group that makes “all our decisions” and has the

power to change the world. Lennon does not care what countries they hail

from or what flag they wave. He wants them to act in unity to let the people

go. In the chorus, he asks the decision makers to “free the people” from the

chains of war and strife. Lennon encourages listeners to voice the appeal as a

“prayer.” Again, he underlines the power inherent in voicing a need out loud,

“let’s shout it aloud,” he sings.

As in “Give Me Some Truth” from
Imagine,
Lennon rejects the “game”

played by politicians. He compares politicians to Satan by labeling them by

the biblical number of the beast/antichrist (“666 is your name”); addition-

ally, others report that Lennon took to referring to Richard Nixon as 666.

Lennon offers an image of the diplomatic masturbation that occurs when

world leaders confer. He warns them that a new world is coming (“your time

What You Got, 1973–1975 51

is up”). Like a new Moses, Lennon is telling the powers that be to let the

people go.

In the final verse, Lennon offers a harrowing image of what these diplomats

have done to the people they represent. Those gathered at the conference

table “slip and slide ... on the blood of” those they have “killed.” The killers

are caught with their hands in the “kill” rather than the “till.” There are no

victors—and there will not be until the killing is stopped, as Lennon sings in

the final chorus.

“Stop the killing” he urges, while the vocal chorus still chants, “free the

people.” Like the previous year’s “John Sinclair,” where Lennon repeated

“gotta” with increasing intensity to the glissandos of the slide guitar, he now

repeats “do it” to a similar accompaniment with the same effect. Despite the

unexplained title of “Bring on the Lucie,” only sung as the song fades out,

this is one of the best tracks on a very erratic album.

If Lennon meant to use the concept of mind games to unify the album, he

did so only by implication and inference, such as in the previous song, and

not through any overt application. One of the few times the mind games

motif is explicit and might work as part of a unifying theme or principle for

the album is with the cut “Nutopian International Anthem.” The original

album cover explained that Nutopia was a conceptual state of no location or

laws “other than cosmic.” Lennon and Ono had declared the state of “New

Utopia” earlier in the year, on April Fool’s Day. The anthem also exists as a

concept only, represented here by a few seconds of silence. Presumably, the

listener should think about the anthem, or the state of Nutopia, during those

seconds and those thoughts are, then, the anthem itself. A few seconds of

silence being a relatively common occurrence, the number has the potential

to be Lennon’s most often performed composition, albeit unintentionally

and likely without garnering royalties. Mind games indeed.

“Intuition” is another insubstantial effort that never comes alive. Lennon

sings about the power of trusting his instincts “in order to survive” but does

not seem to have much to say about it beyond his basic belief in them. The

song tries for an upbeat feel to parallel the positive message but, while com-

petent, lacks any genuine verve.

The first verse relies on formulaic truisms, claiming his intuitions “take me

for a ride” through the “game of life.” Lennon has to “struggle in the night”

until the “magic of the music seems to light the way.” It is not quite clear

what his intuitions have to do with those situations, though it is implied that

they help him cope. The second verse is a little better for avoiding the overly

commonplace phrases, but an unintentional admission may come when

Lennon remarks that he sometimes will “lose communication with nothing

left to say.” That may have been the case here, but he decided to go ahead

and say it anyway. The performance is good but nothing special; the material

is lackluster and sinks the song.

52 The Words and Music of John Lennon

“Out the Blue” is much better, a moving piece about the awe of finding

true love unexpectedly. The song begins with a simple, melancholic, acoustic,

finger-picking guitar introduction and a restrained Lennon vocal. The song

then shifts to a happier country blues sound declaring the inevitability of

“two minds, one destiny,” which is intensified by a gospel chorus. The sound

swells and continues to build throughout the song, as Lennon’s voice gets

stronger and more assured as well, finally demonstrating a sort of joyful con-

tentment with love having come “out the blue.”

The lyrics have intriguing passages, such as when the love “blew away life’s

misery” and brought “life’s energy.” Lennon sings that all his life has been

“a long slow knife” in one of his more poetic images of emotional anguish. A

fine honky-tonk–styled piano solo leads to the somewhat obscure line “Like a

UFO you came to me,” but the song survives it, delivering a more satisfying

emotional impact than might be supposed.

“Only People” presents a more optimistic view than “Bring on the Lucie

(Freda People).” Lennon says that the masses can “change the world.” He is

rallying the “million heads” to communicate their desire for peace to those

who have the power to make it happen. There is hope for change if people

will walk “side by side” and communicate the wishes of the common folk.

The future looks bright, as long as we can avoid a “pig brother scene.” That

is, there is hope as long as protesters do not get their “million heads” bashed

in with nightsticks, as occurred at a number of demonstrations in the late

1960s and early 1970s.

This rollicking number that captures a celebratory and positive mood was

inspired by an aphoristic line of Ono’s, the deceptively simple observation

that “only people change the world.” A buoyant pace is kept spinning by both

mellotron and acoustic piano with some charging but not oppressive work

from the percussion and rhythm guitar. Lennon might have been attempting

to recapture a bit of the anthem-like magic of “Power to the People” with

this track, and, if so, he managed to succeed. A rallying call to keep up the

good fight, the song makes up in assured energy what it lacks in profundity.

Once again the lyrics have some clichéd phrases that to a small degree

weaken the song’s force and message. But this time they also further the

sense of democratized unity and, therefore, do not seem to be empty of

meaning in the song’s context. In addition, Lennon alters some of them. For

instance, having your cake and eating it too becomes “bake the cake and eat

it too.” This song fades out, indicating that the struggle to change the world

continues.

“I Know (I Know)” and “You Are Here” are songs of love written by

Lennon for his spouse. The nurture, growth, and maturation of love are the

subjects of “I Know (I Know).” Lennon’s narrator realizes that the romantic

relationship with his love is a living thing as time goes by. As the couple works

at getting to know each other more, their love grows. As they see how each

views the other, they understand how they need to change to grow closer.

What You Got, 1973–1975 53

The song stands out as lyrically superior to and expressing a more complex

maturity than most of the songs on the album. The song’s repetitive title

highlights the fact that the lyrics indicate that knowing the self creates a

deeper knowledge of the other, and vice versa. Lennon admits his past

failures regarding his love, but states his increasing understanding and grow-

ing awareness of what he has done in the past and what should be done in

the future. Twice Lennon sings, “Today I love you more than yesterday,” a

variation on Spiral Starecase’s number-12 hit of 1969, “More Today than

Yesterday.” The song has an unexpected ending, as Lennon intones, “No

more cryin’” four times. The line could be imploring the wronged loved one

to stop crying, or to promise the self and/or beloved that there will be no

more need for tears. It is a potent ending that heightens the song’s power.

“You Are Here” is more precise in its lyric about the story of John and

Yoko. He marvels at how two people from “distant lands”—specifically

“Liverpool” and “Tokyo”—have found each other. And it does not matter

whether they are geographically together, because, as Lennon sings, “Wher-

ever you are, you are here.” She is always in his heart.