We’ve all heard the stories, I think, as the years have passed since his awful death. John Lennon was a misogynist. John Lennon’s obsession with Yoko — and his huge ego — broke up the Beatles. John Lennon lived much of his post-Beatles life in a druggy haze and became a pathetic figure who wouldn’t make a move without consulting an astrologer and the I Ching. John Lennon lost his edge — nothing he did post-Beatles compares to “In My Life” and “Strawberry Fields” and “A Day in the Life” and even “I Am the Walrus.”
To this I say: Whatever.
John Lennon was a genius — and his human frailties were at the heart of his genius. And I think he was, when the ledger sheet’s assets and debits are balanced, a good-hearted and peaceful man, and a true advocate for that simple but elusive goal: just giving peace a chance.
And when John Lennon died 35 years ago, I cried and cried and cried. It was just so ironic, so sad, so fucking sad…
Just think…John Lennon would be 75 years old. He was, incredibly, just 40 when he was gunned down.
And, by the way, it’s just not true his post-Beatles work didn’t compare.
Yes, here’s what I consider his most beautiful song: Take four of “Strawberry Fields Forever:”
But tell me this song isn’t great…
Chanting the mantra: Peace on Earth.
Rest in peace, John Lennon.