believes in himself, although he imme-
diately enlarges that certainty to encompass Yoko Ono. For him, that is all
that is real. Unlike Paul Simon, for Lennon there are no bridges over trou-
bled water that can mediate human pain. After his creed, or noncreed, listing
those whom he no longer believes or never believed, the melody shifts and
Lennon sings to the listener, who more than likely still embraces the Beatles
myth, “The dream is over.” He was the “dreamweaver,” but he states that
he is “reborn.” And, he tells listeners to go on without him. For him, there
is nothing else, and his listeners have to recognize they are alone as well.
Lennon “reborn” is no longer dreaming and no longer taken in by myths,
including those partly of his own making.
The album concludes with a brief but powerful song titled “My Mummy’s
Dead” that couples nursery-rhyme simplicity with stark emotional depth.
Lennon sings in a weary and quizzical manner about his mother’s death, and
the sound fidelity matches that of some of his later posthumously released
home demo cassettes. The effect is memorable and chilling. And such is how
the album ends, capturing the essence of psychological pain and intimating
at its persistence.
Yoko ono / PLastic ono Band
Most of Lennon’s fans at the time may have been glad that this compa-
nion album to John Lennon / Plastic Ono Band was not packaged with it as
a double record set, but perhaps it should have been, since both are emo-
tional soundscapes. In addition, the albums have similar front and back cover
images, and they share the same musicians and same spare style—in sound as
well as the exploration of raw emotion.
Lennon’s improvisational guitar work and the myriad of sounds he man-
ages to create must have been in his mind when he gave the Rolling Stone
interview two months after the recordings were made, for he truly does make
the guitar “speak” throughout Ono’s album.4 Each track conveys core emo-
tions with minimal or nonexistent lyrical components. The opening cut is
a powerful number titled “Why” with searing, cascading guitar work from
Lennon matching Ono’s vocals as she screams the title word over and over
along with nonverbal vocalizations. Firm support from Ringo Starr on drums
and Klaus Voorman on bass keeps Lennon and Ono solidly on track. As
much as any of Lennon’s numbers from his album, this cut embodies slicing
pain, and the couple’s musical interactions are a marvel to hear, in what is
clearly one of their finest joint efforts.
Of course, the inner rage of “Why” would have to be followed by the
languid but still tumultuous in its own way “Why Not.” Once again Len-
non frees his guitar playing and creates a wide variety of accompaniments to
Ono’s now echoed vocals. Other numbers use the natural sounds of birds
Gimme Some Truth, 1970–1973 25
and trains to augment the aural approximations of emotional and mental
states of being. Each song uses different musical foci, especially rhythmically,
to support the emotive content. “Greenfield Morning” and “Touch Me” are
the other standout tracks in an album that showcases some of Lennon’s most
adventurous and inventive guitar playing.
“Power to the PeoPle”
Not surprisingly, the psychological intensity of “Mother” was not exactly
top-40 pop material, and the single only made it to number 43 on the U.S.
charts. Lennon then turned back to the more outwardly directed and socially
conscious thinking of “Give Peace a Chance” for his next nonalbum single,
“Power to the People.”
At its heart, the song is another populist anthem, with an overall sound
similar to “Instant Karma!” due as much (if not more) to co-producer Phil
Spector’s return as to Lennon’s predilections. A chorus intones the title four
times as the sound of marching feet, similar to clapping, opens the record-
ing and sets the rhythm. Lennon’s
Piper Vaughn and Kenzie Cade