john lennon

The Sentimental Journey of John Lennon’s “Imagine”

The Sentimental Journey of John Lennon’s “Imagine”

For many growing up in the 1960s, the Beatles‘ revolutionary music grew into revolutionary passion as the decade progressed. Although John Lennon became an icon of peace and love, glorified in popular culture through events like the “bed-in” for peace as much as his martyrdom by senseless violence, his place in the music scene was more revolutionary and incendiary than Middle American.

The “more popular than Jesus Christ” comment is only one pop culture example of how Lennon could attract global public attention with his message. Yet this message often made even his ardent followers a bit uncomfortable, not only by how the message was delivered but because it would require them to actively change their lives — and the direction of global politics. Many people revere their idealized version of John Lennon, but few today seem inclined to take his political message to heart.

The same is true of Lennon’s iconic song, “Imagine”. In the decades since his death, “Imagine” ironically has become associated not with revolution or anti-establishment protest, but with the warm fuzziness of a comfortable dream that increasingly is beyond our grasp. Its lyrics proclaim revolutionary concepts: a world without religion, humanity without the constrictions of borders and politics’ marriage with big business, no capitalist dream of greater production/profits coming from greater consumerism. Instead, Lennon’s vision seems increasingly simplistic and unattainable today, although even in 1971, it promoted a radically different reality than that found in the UK or US.

Among its many “uses” in popular entertainment outside the music industry, “Imagine” has been featured during the most poignant moments of beloved television series that celebrate Middle American values – late 1980s/early 1990s Quantum Leap and Glee – as well as the televised celebration of each new year in Times Square, an annual rite of hopeful penance and temporary banishment of cynicism.

“Imagine” a World Without War

In 1990, science fiction television series Quantum Leap broadcast an episode that would become one of the fans’ favorites and perhaps one of the most emotion-rending moments on television fiction. Even years later, fan forums and lists of favorite episodes include “The Leap Home, Part 1”, in which time traveler Sam Beckett (played by Scott Bakula) leaps into his teenage self and tries to right wrongs within his own family.

The leap takes place in 1969, during the last Thanksgiving the family would have together before Sam’s brother is deployed to Vietnam (a tour of duty during which he is killed). The series’s prevalence of war and its horrific separation of families is a recurring theme. In this episode, Sam naturally wants to save his brother from death on the battlefield. “War” is implied in another terrifying future scenario for adult Sam; his younger sister will someday face domestic violence from an abusive partner. Violence, separation, and death are often associated with war, whether on a foreign field or behind locked doors. Sam tries to imagine a future for his family without such strife.

A primary reason why this episode strikes such a sentimental chord among fans of all ages (who watched first-run episodes or enjoyed reruns or DVDs years later) is the use of “Imagine” to connect Sam with younger sister Katie (Olivia Burnette) emotionally. Pippa Parry, the webmistress of long-running, still-popular Quantum Leap fansite, Project Quantum Leap, explains why this song meshed beautifully with the television series’ philosophy and why, through Sam, “Imagine” is the perfect theme.

“Sam is the epitome of goodness and kindness, always trying to do the right thing and help people as much as he can. [He] reminds us all of what the human race could be like if we would all pull together.” In this episode, “Sam wanted desperately to please everybody; he wanted to save his brother from being killed in Vietnam and his father from having a coronary, and he also needed to reassure his little sister that her favorite Beatle (Paul) wasn’t dead. He nearly gave the game away by starting to say that it was John who was dead in the future, but Al stopped him just in time, so he went on to say that John wrote his favorite song, ‘Imagine.’ I’m sure this song evokes feelings in everyone who hears it, and for Sam, it had great meaning because he so wanted everything in his family’s life to be perfect.”

On 28 September 1990, when “The Leap Home, Part 1” was broadcast, the tenth anniversary of Lennon’s death was only a few months away. Because the “leap” took place during Thanksgiving 1969, the family-oriented holiday and theme of being thankful added special emphasis to the hopeful nature of “Imagine” as a generic wish for peace, not an anthem for radical sociopolitical change. Like so many Americans of his generation, Sam latched onto “Imagine” as a personal anthem, a motivational song by which he would live his life. Sam’s purpose for leaping through time was to “make right what once went wrong”, indicating his ability to imagine a greater future for others, even at the price of personal sacrifice.

Although this episode underscores Sam’s need to re-imagine his family’s future, it also illustrates that the reality of what we can imagine often is difficult, if not impossible, to achieve. Quantum Leap sentimentalizes the song but highlights that to attain world peace, we need to do more than just “Imagine”. As Parry notes, “Unfortunately [Sam] ended up making his sister cry and realizing that he couldn’t re-imagine his life after all — so sad. Just thinking of this episode brings tears to my eyes.”

In the second part of this episode, Sam finds himself leaping into the front lines in Vietnam with yet another chance to save his brother. In later episodes, he continues to fight against oppression and violence to bring about a more enlightened, peace-promoting world. Sam continues his “activism”, even though he realizes that changing the world is a difficult, often thankless commitment.

The sentimentalism of “Imagine” in a series that promoted peaceful activism and the desire to help others improve the future nevertheless was tempered by the lead character’s difficulty in making reality fit the dream. In a small way, Lennon’s revolutionary theme within “Imagine” was kept alive — those who believe in the future described in this song need to act to make this vision real. Quantum Leap fans today, however, mostly recall their emotional response to a well-acted scene emphasizing family’s importance.

The 2009 use of “Imagine” within the television hit Glee indicates how much the song has become further sentimentalized but less activist during the intervening two decades since “The Leap Home”. Again, “Imagine” frames holiday sentiments surrounding Thanksgiving, whether a holiday being celebrated on screen or by the audience watching an episode. Ironically, “Hairography” was broadcast on 25 November 2009 — 40 years after the “leap” date of Sam’s Thanksgiving visit home. (Yet another bit of Quantum Leap trivia: John Lennon and Scott “Sam Beckett” Bakula share a 9th October birthdate.) On Glee, however, opposition to war/violence isn’t the predominant theme supported by “Imagine” — equality in social status or individual acceptance is emphasized.

The Haverbrook Deaf Choir begins to sing “Imagine”, but the New Directions glee club (the series’ stars) interrupt, an action that bothered some television critics. Liz Purdue wrote in her Zap2It review: “The deaf students perform ‘Imagine’, with sign language and one student talk-singing until Mercedes and the rest of Glee Club join in. Or should I say butt in? It’s lovely, and I understand the symbolism, but isn’t it a little insulting for them to just take over the other students’ performance?” Alden Habacon’s Schema review, however, called this musical moment “groundbreaking TV” because the deaf choir succeeded in “stealing the show [with] the heartfelt rendition of John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’.”

Although critical reactions to this scene were mixed, “Imagine” serves as a way for the deaf students — and eventually the multicultural New Directions singers, many who also face discrimination as a sociopolitical minority — to envision a category-free world. Glee re-imagined “Imagine” to fit its own sentimentalized purposes, but the episode had a powerful positive effect on many fans who watched that scene. As one blogger posted on Forum DVD Talk shortly after the episode ended, “That’s the second time “Imagine” got that kind of reaction from me by a TV show. The first was Quantum Leap.”

By 2010, “Imagine” had become the go-to song to evoke a positive emotional response to a variety of causes or, more generally, to the need for global improvement. As broadcast by cable and national networks, the annual ritual of New Year’s Eve in Times Square further cements “Imagine” as the all-purpose sentimental wish for a peaceful, prosperous future. The loudspeakers throughout Time Square play “Imagine” close to midnight, and Lennon’s voice can be heard above the revelers and stage performers – even over network announcers.

Audiences have become attuned to listening above all the noise for “Imagine”. It introduces the countdown before the ball drops – and another year lands heavily upon the crowds cheering in New York and watching from around the world. Replacing Guy Lombardo’s rendition of “Auld Lang Syne”, John Lennon’s “Imagine” has become a holiday tradition. Audiences don’t have to do anything; they merely can cheer the sentiment, and their resolution somehow to help create a better tomorrow most likely goes the way of most New Year’s resolutions.

Whether Thanksgiving or New Year’s, television, or real life, “Imagine” has become synonymous with heart-tugging emotion and, increasingly, a wistful desire for a better future. No one seems to mind that Lennon’s meaning has been co-opted for an ever-widening range of causes or watered down to a general desire for something better.

The Fatal Flaw of “Imagine”-ing

Perhaps “Imagine’s” fatal flaw that makes it irresistibly attractive as a national anthem or hopeful plea for a more generalized peaceful future is its gentle tone, singable range, and quiet approach. Through a simple tune and quiet delivery, Lennon can still lull the populace into thinking that his radical ideals are not only desirable but possible. He ensnares a wide audience in his musical net with the line, “I hope someday you’ll join us.” That inclusiveness hints that Lennon has/had the answers for those post-1960s flower children joining the workforce and, decades later, their children and grandchildren looking for a better tomorrow.

Of course, the better tomorrow Lennon envisioned vastly differs from the wishes of increasingly stressed out, technologically left behind, cash-depleted masses who long to be some of the “haves” rather than the “have nots”. Lennon’s lyrics portray the bliss of having fewer or no possessions; that reality is not perceived as blissful in the current global climate. Such disconnect between Lennon’s lyrics and languid melody is mirrored today by the continuing popularity of “Imagine” as an idealized, romanticized vision of the future versus its original message.

Even Lennon recognized the discrepancy between his meaning and the song’s popularity. In Lennon in America: 1971-1980, Based in Part on the Lennon Diaries, author Geoffrey Guiliani quotes Lennon noting the irony of “Imagine”‘s popularity. Lennon called “Imagine” an “anti-capitalistic” song, adding, “Now I understand what you have to do. Put your political message across with a little honey… Our work is to tell [apathetic young people] there is still hope and still a lot to do.”

The honeyed vocals of “Imagine” still inspire sweet sentimentality, but the song’s effectiveness as a revolutionary call to action has become muted over the decades. Whereas even in a memorable 1990 Quantum Leap episode Sam’s desire to change the future accompanied an emotional on-screen moment, more recent uses of the song emphasize hope and emotion over an active agenda for sociopolitical change. Lennon’s political message is losing ground, even as “Imagine” becomes further entrenched in American popular culture via television episodes and events.

Through “Imagine”, John Lennon’s legacy may become a permanent part of popular culture, not just of music or even political history and culture; however, its use on US television, through such idealistic mainstream fiction as Quantum Leap or Glee, as well as co-optation for sentimentalized public events like New Year’s Eve celebrations, ultimately may shift “Imagine” from an anthem for change to a dream that stands little chance of being realized. Consequently, it distances public perceptions of Lennon ever farther from his real role as an instigator of sociopolitical change.

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Editor’s Note: This article was originally published on 16 November 2010. Minor updates have been made.

John Lennon’s Minimalist Journey to Independence

John Lennon’s Minimalist Journey to Independence

By 1970, John Lennon struggled to break free from his former Fab Four image and transform himself into a more cynical, hard-edged solo artist. John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band, in particular, is known for its emotionally naked and brutally honest songs. Tracks like “I Found Out” and “God” deconstruct a multitude of sacred cows, from organized religion to naive hippiedom, to the idea of the Beatles themselves. However, Lennon’s metamorphosis from a lead Beatle to “just John” is not only apparent in the pronouncedly pessimistic lyrics of Lennon’s early solo career. The sparse instrumentation and minimal melodies from the Plastic Ono era testify to Lennon’s primal descent into cold, harsh reality as well. Some Beatles fans might have gently wept while listening to the song “God” as Lennon sang, “I don’t believe in Beatles.” Given the artist’s attempt to break free from the romantic sonic and compositional experimentation of the Sgt. Pepper era, though, the truth of these stark lyrics should have eluded no one.

When Lennon fans first gave Plastic Ono Band a spin in 1970, its opening strains clued them into the fact that they were going to hear something quite different from the Lennon of the past. Four strikes of an ominous-sounding bell lead into John singing, “Mother, you had me, but I never had you.” The instrumentation on “Mother” is notably sparse, with only piano, bass, and drums accompanying Lennon’s impassioned vocal about coming to grips with his troubled childhood. The piano arrangement through most of the song consists of block chords sustained for a measure at a time with very little rhythmic accentuation. Similarly, the bass sits on the tonic of each chord, lacking any ornamentation. Lennon’s lyrics are appropriately direct. When Lennon sings “mamma don’t go… daddy come home”, the listener can feel the raw pain in his vocal, since it’s unadulterated by artificially lush production values.

The rest of the record continues in a similarly minimalistic bent. Even the album’s most lyrically optimistic tunes, “Hold On” and “Love”, embrace musical simplicity and avoid romantic sentimentality. “Hold On” uses a bluesy guitar as its textural base as Lennon reassures himself and Yoko that “it’s gonna be alright”, as if to ease the primal pain of “Mother”. “Love” features a gentle, contrapuntal, classical-style piano. Lennon isn’t lyrically far removed here from such memorable McCartney tracks as “Here, There, and Everywhere” or “I Will”. However, rather than filling the arrangement with layers of sound, he brings the unassuming piano track to the fore, demonstrating a difference in aesthetic philosophy with his former musical partner in crime.

“Working Class Hero” and “Look at Me” feature only acoustic guitars for accompaniment. The lyrics of ‘Working Class Hero” have a complex, ironic connotation when juxtaposed with a strummed guitar style reminiscent of 1960s protest music. “Look at Me”, in which Lennon asks himself pointedly, “What am I supposed to be?” features a Merle Travis finger-picking style in the mode of “Julia” from the White Album. Even the tracks on Plastic Ono Band that ‘rock’ the most are sonically minimal. “Remember”, a tune inspired directly by Lennon’s therapy experiences, is driven by a repetitive rhythmic piano. “Well, Well, Well” features a distorted, bluesy electric rhythm guitar layered upon only one raucous, yet basic lead guitar track.

The two most lyrically cynical tunes on the album, “I Found Out” and “God”, are especially pointed in their embrace of minimalist principles. On “I Found Out”, Lennon effectively rejects the 1960s counterculture and the mythical idea of the Beatles themselves. In addition to taking one last dig at the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, the subject of Lennon’s White Album-era “Sexy Sadie”, he says that he’s “seen religion, from Jesus to Paul”, referring to both St. Paul and Paul McCartney, a saint himself in the eyes of many Beatles fans. The song’s relentlessly stark lyrics are accompanied at first only by a bluesy guitar playing the melody in unison with the lead vocal.

img-1571Design Face Eye by Geralt (Pixabay License /

“God” features a repetitive, gospel-tinged piano part played by Billy Preston. Lennon begins the tune with the audacious statement that “God is a concept by which we measure our pain.” He goes on to provide a list of people or concepts he no longer believes in. Alongside Jesus, I Ching, and Buddha, he lumps such 1960s idols as the Kennedys, Bob Dylan, and, most famously, the Fab Four themselves. While Lennon’s vocal is quite dynamic, changing in timbre and range to match the lyrics’ cynicism, the rhythm section stays relentlessly consistent, giving Lennon a stable musical palate from which to work. While this “faux gospel” tune could have easily turned into a full-blown production with organ and a choir, Lennon once again keeps the texture simple so that his virtuosic vocal is accentuated.

Plastic Ono Band is now universally regarded as not only Lennon’s most important post-Beatles effort but one of the greatest records in pop history. Many years removed from the record’s original release, it is difficult to imagine what an audacious artistic move it was for Lennon to make this album. Not only did Lennon run the risk of alienating his fans with the lyrics rejecting his past self, but his artistic principles stood in contrast to those employed during much of the Beatles’ career. In making the austere Plastic Ono Band, one source of Lennon’s inspiration was the “primal scream” therapy he was undergoing at the time.

The primitive nature of Lennon’s vocals and the confessional mode of his lyrics reflect his therapeutic experiences. The record’s musical minimalism in the arrangement and sonic texture support the “primal” concept effectively. The listener often has the feeling of being alone in a quiet room with only Lennon’s inner reflections. Lennon’s bold turn to the minimal, though, was not just a result of his lyrical introspection and personal circumstances. Rather, the former Beatle was placing himself in diametric aesthetic opposition to not only Paul, George, and Ringo, but the John of the Beatle era.

When one looks at the primary musical contributions Lennon made during the Beatles’ artistic and critical peak (circa Revolver and Sgt. Pepper’s), one is struck by the contrast with Lennon’s early solo work. Tracks like “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”, “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite”, and “Good Morning Good Morning” all reflect a fascination with sonic experimentation and a “fullness” of sound. While Paul is often credited with taking the band in the direction of larger musical forms and symphonic sonic principles, it is clear that John did his share to lead the group down this road as well.

“Mr. Kite” in particular features layer upon layer of odd sonic effects and unconventional instrumentation to place the listener in the middle of Lennon’s psychedelic circus. “Strawberry Fields Forever”, one of the most introspective songs in the Beatles catalog, features a wall of sound to illustrate the “strange” nature of childhood innocence. The Dadaist “I Am the Walrus” swims in a river of psychedelic experimentation as well. In fact, Lennon references this song in “God” to clearly delineate the ‘old John’ vs. the ‘new John’, when he asserts, “I once was the walrus, but now I’m John.”

Although in many ways the minimalism of John’s early solo work stands in opposition to the experimental romanticism of the Beatles at their peak, Lennon’s burgeoning minimalistic tendencies coincided with the Beatles’ own disillusionment. Many have stated that the White Album represents the vision of four separate individuals rather than the unified statement of a single group. If this is the case, the White Album‘s John Lennon is interested in exploring a “less-is-more” philosophy.

“Julia”, for example, consists of only an acoustic guitar and John’s quiet vocal, a precursor to “Look at Me”. The emotionally naked “Yer Blues” features a simple, yet raucous texture, predicting “Well, Well, Well”. If Lennon’s minimalism was hinted at on the White Album, it was developed even more during the troubled sessions that eventually led to Let It Be. The whole concept behind this record, in fact, was a “return to roots” mentality. The Beatles wanted to get back to where they first started, four young lads from Liverpool playing rock ‘n’ roll music. Lennon joyfully contributed such simple tunes as “Don’t Let Me Down” and “Dig a Pony”. Let It Be‘s failure to establish artistic and critical credibility was at least partially due to Phil Spector’s completion of the project. A track like “Across the Universe”, originally intended as a quiet meditation on the nature of change, was bloated into an orchestral assault on the senses.

“Come Together”, the opening song on Abbey Road, arguably reflects Lennon’s embryonic minimalism more than any other Beatles tune. The combination of blues riffs and the sparse texture was surely a harbinger of things to come. Although Lennon had explored a less-is-more approach to composition and performance during his time with the Beatles, Plastic Ono Band represents John’s first chance to fully embrace his minimalist aesthetic and push it to its long-playing logical conclusion. Unencumbered by the need to compromise with other musical collaborators, John’s stark vision was revealed in its entirety for its first time upon the record’s 1970 release.

While John started his solo career with an embrace of simplicity’s chilling beauty, he did not follow this path for long. His follow-up record Imagine is infinitely more mainstream than his debut, both lyrically and musically. The opening strains of the title song feel like they could be a continuation of Plastic Ono Band. A single, unassuming piano begins the track before John begins his idealistic vocal. However, by the second verse, where John asks us to “imagine there’s no country”, a sentimental-sounding string section enters, leading the listener down the road more traveled. Overall, Imagine is a more settled record. John no longer asks the big questions about who he is supposed to be and how he can overcome his sainted past as a Beatle.

Overall, he expresses a state of contentment about his relationship, his music, and his life. While there are exceptions to this generalization (especially “Gimme Some Truth” and “How Do You Sleep?”), Lennon’s sophomore solo effort represents a retreat from cynicism. Listening to both records many years removed from their original release, it seems infinitely clear that the former is a landmark record of true artistic significance, whereas the latter suffers from a lack of unified vision. John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band is a boldly Spartan foray into realism, whereas Imagine is a more-sophisticated-than-average Hallmark greeting card for the masses.

While Lennon didn’t consistently embrace the minimalist principles of his earliest solo work for his entire career, the legacy of his artistic austerity is still with us today. Several contemporary indie bands have embraced the “less-is-more” attitude espoused by Lennon on Plastic Ono Band. The xx, a modish London band, embraced a minimalist aesthetic and presented emotionally direct lyrics on their own debut record. Spoon, over the course of several albums, have consistently and creatively reduced pop music to its most essential elements. Wilco, in their post-A Ghost Is Born incarnation, have returned to a more basic texture on records like Sky Blue Sky.

Certainly, Lennon wasn’t the first or the last to embrace minimalism as an artistic ideal in pop. However, because Lennon is such a prominent figure in contemporary music, his aesthetic choices lend validity to younger artists trying to get back to basics as well. Lennon successfully built upon musical principles established during his time with the Beatles, while pushing them in new directions, free from the crippling responsibility of living up to his image as one of the Fab Four. By the time Lennon died in 1980, many fans had long since stopped believing in the Beatles but had started believing in John.

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This article was originally published on 14 November 2010.

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