If John Lennon deserves any credit at all for his assault on the ears of his fans with an avante-garde (that's French for 'pretentious garbage') work devoid of any aesthetic value, it's for his having had the courage to release what he thought at the time was 'art' in the knowledge that it would be universally panned. And panned it deserved to be. This should have remained a personal fun project between him and Yoko that stayed in the bedroom and never saw the light of day. If I were ever forced at gunpoint to listen to either this album again or Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music, I'd go for Lou's monstrosity any day. Yes, it's that bad.