The Album Where Lennon Bares All Leaves Me Asking — Would I Ever Want to Listen to These Songs Again?
Many songs on this album are decent, but the big catch is that it’s all about John. These songs are deeply personal and pretty indulgent, a result of some alternative therapy Lennon was getting in California with Yoko Ono. Each song is from the first person perspective. He talks about his life, family, anxiety, politics, and fame. Some of the popularity stems from this — you really get to understand what John is thinking because that’s all he sings about.
This makes the material very awkward to listen to outside of the album, not to mention the duds. There isn’t one powerful single that can stand on its own merits. Trying to add any songs into my mega 70s playlist on Spotify makes little sense.
Lennon throws everything at the wall and finds things that sticks.
We are now entering the uncharted realm of post-Beetles work. I have discovered so many hidden finds in Sgt. Pepper, Revolver, The White Album, Abbey Road, and Let It Be that I’ve only written one review on those works so far; I’m just not ready to put those experiences into words. There is so much material. I need more time to let it sink in.
I was wondering how everything would work when they split up. It’s evident as a group that they covered each other’s blind spots. Lennon was iconoclastic and not afraid to tread into weird domains, but McCartney kept him honest and found ways to use lyrics and traditional pop to keep him grounded. Lennon’s second solo album is a solid go, but you can’t help but Imagine what some of the songs could have been With a Little Help From His Friends*.
*I hate myself for making this joke.