Bringing in the pain
When therapy revealed some crucial truths to John Lennon, he decided we should all share them. By Jim Irvin.
“The most quintessential record he’d make.”
FOR HIS 1970 solo debut, John Lennon/
Plastic Ono Band (Capitol/UMC)
HHHHH – now pimped-up in 50th anniversary splendour, remixed and massively expanded – John Lennon offered up a short, sharp shocker, a howl of anguish at his love-starved upbringing and the expectations heaped upon his shoulders as the ’60s closed for business. Reaping the benefits of primal scream therapy, he carried the sessions into his songs, covering big topics in 10 succinct outbursts: God, love, class, justice, self-awareness, the loneliness of celebrity and the misery of parental abandonment. Bosh!
The bludgeoning, distorted Well Well Well, the swearing in Working Class Hero (“fucking”) and I Found Out (“cock”), the grief expressed in Mother and My Mummy’s Dead, the rubbishing of all belief systems in God, including a curt dismissal of his much mourned band (“I don’t believe in Beatles… The dream is over, yesterday”), served to test Lennon’s audience. They certainly didn’t consume this record with the enthusiasm they’d show the following year for Imagine. Yet it was the most quintessential record he’d make, using a spare, trio format to focus one’s attention on the unambiguous songs, drawing you in with their candour and then punching you in the face for getting too close, distilling everything Lennon had ever learned about the impact of rock music, its beauty and its ugliness, sounding both elemental and ahead of the curve.
Phil Spector’s production was brilliant, an object lesson in small band recording, every element earning its keep, beautifully emphasised by Paul Hicks’ clearer, punchier new Ultimate Mix. John’s voice sounds sensational throughout, shredding on Well Well Well, wistful on Love and Look At Me, acidic on Working Class Hero. This is the work that suggests Lennon inhabits the penthouse above the list of all-time great rock voices. He even does a quick impression of the Cookie Monster. Ringo Starr and Klaus Voormann sound amazing together, too.
The reissue lands in multiple formats, including a super-deluxe version containing six hours of music across 6-CDs and two Blu-rays that bump it up to 11 hours, with extra outtakes, jams and the sessions for Yoko’s companion album.
The complete menu is: Ultimate Mix of the whole album – also on the vinyl editions – with Give Peace A Chance, Cold Turkey and Instant Karma added. (The album’s original 1970 mix isn’t included.) Alternative versions and outtakes: Elements Mixes focuses on aspects of the songs, an a cappella Mother, a totally dry Working Class Hero, that sort of thing; one disc of “home” demos and two of Raw Studio Mixes without effects or reverb. (Intriguingly, this has Take 91 of Mother!); a disc following the evolution of each song in mini documentaries. Particularly striking is the development of God, from a piss-take at home through its broadening in the studio, Lennon still working out the lyrics and the best key, while Ringo rehearses his between-line fills. Then, after John decides he dislikes the direction it’s headed, he drafts in Billy Preston to add gospel piano, which he plays rather like Lincoln Mayorga on Ketty Lester’s Love Letters. Twenty rough rock’n’roll jams and studio warm-ups, including snatches of Mystery Train, Get Back and early try-outs of I Don’t Wanna Be A Soldier from Imagine are fun to hear. Finally, there’s everything the same line-up recorded for Yoko Ono/Plastic Ono
Band. An opportunity has been missed to bring together both the Plastic Ono Band albums in one matching package. Perhaps another time. It’s all too much, perhaps, but Lennon’s debut remains thrilling, challenging, direct and heartfelt. It’s only one of the abiding tragedies of his short life that he never bettered it.