Sly Stone – keyboard programming, synthesizers, guitar, bass, keyboards, vocals
Rose Stone – vocals, keyboards
Billy Preston – keyboards
Jerry Martini – tenor saxophone
Cynthia Robinson – trumpet
Freddie Stone – guitar
Ike Turner – guitar
Bobby Womack – guitar
Larry Graham – bass, backing vocals
Greg Errico – drums
Gerry Gibson – drums
Little Sister – backing vocals
“When you’re dealing with a pathfinder, you allow that genius to unfold.”
Clive Davis, Vanity Fair 2007
There’s a Riot Goin’ On is a striking example of a pathfinder taking a road, both musically and personally, that tests every relationship to the brink and beyond to a place and time where tumult is inevitable and damage is dealt harshest of all to the protagonist at the center of it.
In trying to explain why the album sounds as it does, it becomes a study of the dangers of drugs, the wear-and-tear on Black lives lived in a white supremacist society, and the writhing mess of a capitalist music industry. At the intersection of all those things stands Sylvester Stewart (to his mother) and Sly Stone (to the world) replying in 1971 to Marvin Gaye’s musical question: What’s Going On.
But the groundwork for this new blueprint of soul and funk lies in its predecessor Stand! and, more importantly perhaps, the success it brought with it. Released in 1969 after three solid, if unspectacularly performing albums, it reached #12 on the Billboard Top 200, whereas none of the previous three albums had broken the top 100. Part of its success can be attributed to a moment that goes down as one of the most important in 20th Century musical history: the Woodstock Festival.
When Sly and The Family Stone took the stage at 3.30am on Sunday August 17, 1969, their lives and careers changed forever. Almost knee deep in mud and worn low by the ravages of a weekend of intoxicating substances and little sleep, the crowd was revitalized by the surging, infectious performance the band gave—a lengthy, exultant “I Want To Take You Higher” lit the touchpaper and the band never looked back. In fact, it was a palpable moment of realization for those involved, as well as those in the crowd. Larry Graham, the slap bass innovator, recounted in later years the fact that the band fully grasped their potential and realized what the awesome power of the fully operational group could attain.
But the savage irony of that realization is that the seeds were sown at that moment for the gradual dissolution of the group. For with success, came money and, somewhat inevitably, distractions. It may be a tale oft-told but it remains true—no one prepares you for success and all the trappings it brings. The distractions that afflicted Sly Stone in particular are well documented—for him it was cocaine and PCP that were his escape. Scanning through the interviews he gave to journalists in the early 1970s (which were few and far between), each and every single one of them makes mention of his cocaine habit.
Many and famous were the musicians who kept Sly company in those days—Bobby Womack, Miles Davis and Ike Turner were just some of the folks who indulged alongside him. Jeff Kaliss’ book I Want To Take You Higher – The Life and Times of Sly and The Family Stone is replete with tales that show just how deep Stone wallowed in cocaine and PCP. Ria Boldway (Stone’s on/off girlfriend) was clear that most visitors partook of the drugs “but nobody used like Sly, poor baby.”
Those drugs entered Stone’s orbit more readily when he moved to Los Angeles from San Francisco in the autumn of ’69. “There is a cloud flying over Sly from the time he moved down to LA,” Jerry Martini (saxophone player) recalled to Joel Selvin for his oral history of the group published in 1998. “Things really changed when he moved down there . . . it was havoc. It was very gangsterish, dangerous. The vibes were very dark at that point.”
It also transpired that part of the band’s appeal as a multi-ethnic promise of a future possible world was also under pressure. It is alleged by some (but refuted by Sly himself) that the Black Panthers and Stone’s sister Loretta urged Sly to dismiss Martini, Greg Errico (drums) and manager David Kapralik.
And then there were the internal band tensions that had been present since almost day one. Larry Graham and Sly tussled numerous times as the former challenged Stone’s authority. There were also rumors of Graham having affairs with Rose (Sly’s sister) and Sharon (Sly’s brother Freddie’s wife)—hardly a cocktail for healthy relationships and dynamic musical brotherhood. The upshot of all that was that Graham barely appeared on There’s a Riot Goin’ On, instead bass parts were played by either Stone himself or Rustee Alan who was more in line with James Jamerson’s luxuriously smooth bass playing than Graham’s newly minted slap bass techniques that had contributed so memorably to Stand’s success.
Evidence of Stone’s addiction and subsequent unreliability post-Stand came in the shape of missed shows. During the year after their success, Sly Stone missed 26 of the 80 planned shows, but things may not have been quite so straightforward. For all that the drugs would inevitably contribute to the problem, there was the idea that some form of scam was being run by those around the group. If Stone was waylaid by someone, resulting in a missed show, it was alleged that that person got a split of the resulting financial payoff Stone was obliged to produce. When he was interviewed by David Letterman in 1983, he addressed the issue head on: “There’s no way to make three gigs in one night, if you only know about one.”
For all that that can be interpreted as diminished organizational memory brought on by the cocaine, there is also another more sinister reading of the statement that backs up the earlier notion of grubby, greedy hands somewhere along the line.
Recording sessions for There’s a Riot Goin’ On didn’t take place as soon as the record company wanted—they put out a greatest hits album in 1970 while they waited impatiently for new material. When it came to recording, Stone used The Plant Studios in Sausalito and the loft of his Bel-Air mansion but with one added curiosity. Sly also owned a Winnebago that was fitted out (somewhat chaotically) with recording equipment that added to the places Stone could hide himself away and create what would become Riot. It was a solitary endeavor for the most part though, something that was made possible by the advent of the most basic of drum machines.
The Maestro Rhythm King MRK2 had preset patterns that he would use in a new, exciting way as Greg Errico (a real human drummer!) grudgingly testifies in Kaliss’ book: “The machine. . . was a lounge instrument that the guy at the bar at the Holiday Inn might have used. Sly took the ticky-tacky, which started on the ‘tick’, and he inverted it, turned it inside out, into something the ear wasn’t used to. He took the texture and created a rhythm with it that made it very interesting.”
It’s no stretch to draw the developmental line from Sly through Prince and all the way up to Pharrell and beyond in wringing the soul out of a mechanized drum machine. Having flipped the preset, Stone would often then overdub with drums too and this method was used repeatedly over the course of the album, resulting in the dense, foggy feel that pervades. Members of the band would come at Stone’s behest, lay down the track according to his instructions and then he would record again over the top of it himself.
There were other times when tapes would be re-used too. In the mist of drug-fueled good times, Stone would invite girls to sing vocals for him before recording over the top of it later, to scrub their throwaway vocals down the drain, again contributing to the unique (at that time) grimily obscured sound that sprang from those sessions.
There is a tendency to draw harsh lines between Stand! and Riot in terms of the attitudes that prevail on each. Stand is often characterized as bright, upbeat and positive, while Riot is often shown to be dark, brooding and the start of a downward spiral. In truth, the seeds of some negativity are found on Stand! in the shape of “Don’t Call Me” and “Somebody’s Watching You,” so the distinction between the two becomes blurred rather than sharp and clear. Yet it would be churlish to say that Riot isn’t all of the things others suggest it is.
The music on Riot is funky, very funky, but it is of a totally different ilk to the funk others offered. Take James Brown’s work of the time with his new lineup that included Bootsy and Catfish Collins. Their brand of funk was expansive, punchy and dancing to it meant the chance to use huge movements—spins, pirouettes and leaping splits; arms and legs flung as extensively as possible. But it is hard to imagine those same movements in response to the deep, gloopy funk of Riot. Here the funk is wearing a strait jacket—the movements it provokes are limited in scope and scale, instead the neck bears the brunt of the groove.
It seems almost beyond comprehension that the group’s biggest song would come from this album, but “Family Affair” hit #1 on the charts and stayed there for three weeks. Recorded with Billy Preston on electric piano and Bobby Womack on rhythm guitar, it buried Sly’s guitar in the mix and featured his singing in an entirely different register. Gone were the urgent gospel-like vocals of previous years and in its place came a guttural, underplayed vocal that mirrored the gloomy approach to recording and the overall feel of the album.
The other singles released from the album were “Runnin’ Away” and “(You Caught Me) Smilin’” both of which did pretty well (reaching #23 and #42 respectively on the Billboard charts). But it is hard to imagine anything else being palatable as a single—the funk is so thick it wades through molasses and is unlike anything else of the time.
This is undoubtedly a great album that changed the course of soul and funk music. Its effects can still be heard today in many places—a listen to Van Hunt’s The Fun Rises, The Fun Sets (2015) alone for example will reveal the debt he owes to this album and the sounds Stone created along the way. D’Angelo’s Voodoo (2000) also dwells in the same swampy funk as Sly Stone’s brand of soul and his vocals echo Sly’s when he slides into his upper register too. But the painful truth is that although I recognize its sheer, unadulterated brilliance, I play it relatively seldomly—it never transcends my circumstances in the way other albums do. I have to be in a certain frame of mind to enjoy it.
Clive Davis was well aware of Stone’s genius, both at the time and in retrospect, but the path that his genius took him on was far from what was wanted by any record executive. Though he would record another great album in 1973 (Fresh), the end of his productive road was almost in sight and Sly spent years in the wilderness of addiction, fighting for control of his work and wrestling his legacy back from unscrupulous record labels. If he had not been exploited in such a way and wasted so much energy on regaining what was rightfully his, who is to say that he wouldn’t have returned to releasing more incredible music? I certainly wouldn’t have bet against it.
01. Mother 5:36 02. Hold On 1:53 03. I Found Out 3:37 04. Working Class Hero 3:50 05. Isolation 2:53 06. Remember 4:36 07. Love 3:24 08. Well Well Well 5:59 09. Look At Me 2:54 10. God 4:10 11. My Mummy's Dead 0:49
Recorded: 26 September – 23 October 1970 Producers: John Lennon, Yoko Ono, Phil Spector Released: 11 December 1970
John Lennon: vocals, electric guitar, acoustic guitar, piano, Hammond organ Klaus Voormann: bass guitar Billy Preston: piano Phil Spector: piano Ringo Starr: drums
John Lennon's first solo album remains one of the most remarkable musical statements ever released by a major artist. With confrontation of various demons, a demolition of The Beatles' legend, and at times a painfully honest account of a troubled man struggling to deal with a reality he couldn't change, the album saw Lennon stripping away layers of defence and artifice, leaving his most raw, direct and heartfelt collection of songs.
During The Beatles' break-up Lennon and Yoko Ono had immersed themselves, at various times, in peace campaigns, heroin addiction, a work schedule filled with publicity stunts, and occasional musical excursions. However, as 1969 gave way to the new decade, they retreated from public view at Tittenhurst Park, their 72-acre estate in Ascot, Berkshire, where they became increasingly isolated.
The extent of their fame made normal public excursions troublesome, and the press commonly portrayed them as freaks. The pair had kicked heroin, but were both using methodone as a substitute. Ono had suffered two miscarriages in the previous two years, and had another in 1970, and was locked in a custody battle for her daughter with her previous husband, Tony Cox.
Lennon, meanwhile, was attempting to deal with the pressures surrounding The Beatles' break-up. Although he was the primary instigator, the disintegrating relationships between the four men, not to mention the ongoing legal and business wranglings with Apple and Allen Klein, took their toll. He had tried seeking solace in drugs, but found their effects to be little more than an ephemeral escape.
Enter Dr Arthur Janov. The American psychotherapist had sent Lennon an unsolicited copy of his book The Primal Scream, subtitled Primal Therapy: The Cure for Neurosis, based on the premise that people's neuroses were caused by repressed pain connected to childhood experiences.
Lennon was fascinated by the book, and is said to have read it in a single sitting. Ono summoned Janov to Tittenhurst Park from Los Angeles, in an attempt to help Lennon confront his unresolved formative traumas: losing contact with his mother after being sent to live with his aunt Mimi; her death in July 1958, when Lennon was 17 years old; and the sporadic, infrequent contact with his father during his childhood.
Janov conducted a number of Primal Therapy sessions at Lennon's half-built recording studio at Tittenhurst Park, but the chaotic state of the house prevented them from making progress. The sessions moved to London, where Janov made Lennon and Ono stay in separate hotels, but eventually Janov invited them to follow him to Los Angeles.
"They do this thing where they mess around with you until you reach a point where you hit this scream thing. You go with it – they encourage you to go with it – and you kind of make a physical, mental, cosmic breakthrough with the scream itself. I can compare it to acid inasmuch as you take the trip, and what you do with it afterwards when the drug's worn off is what you do with it afterwards when the drug's worn off. But there's no taking away from the initial scream. That's what you go for."
John Lennon, 1980
All We Are Saying, David Sheff
Lennon and Ono spent four months with Janov in America. They underwent two therapy sessions each week, either in groups or individually, several of which were filmed for research purposes.
"Even under a daddy I'm not going to be filmed, especially rolling around the floor screaming. So then he started to berate us: 'Some people are so big they won't be filmed.' He said he just happened to be filming that session. 'Who are you kidding, Mr Janov?' He just happened to be filming the session with John and Yoko in it."
John Lennon, 1980
All We Are Saying, David Sheff
Lennon told Janov he had grown up unhappy and isolated in the knowledge that his parents hadn't wanted him. He cried frequently, but, according to Janov, never screamed the words "Mama don't go, daddy come home". The Beatles were seldom mentioned, although Brian Epstein was discussed by the two men.
"I don't think anything else would work on me so well. But then of course I'm not through with it. It's a process that's going on – we primal almost daily. And the only difference – I don't really want to get this big primal thing going because it gets so embarrassing. And in a nutshell, primal therapy allowed us to feel feelings continually, and those feelings usually make you cry. That's all. Before I wasn't feeling things – I was having blocks to the feelings, and the feelings come through, you cry. It's as simple as that really."
John Lennon, 1970
Lennon Remembers, Jann S Wenner
Throughout his adult life Lennon was susceptible to the promises of various idols or lifestyles that were claimed to be panaceas, whether they be LSD, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, politics or macrobiotics. Like Dr Arthur Janov, none sustained his interest for much more than a year, and disillusionment frequently set in once Lennon found they couldn't provide what he was searching for. Although Janov wanted Lennon to return to Los Angeles to complete his therapy, he never did.
"At first I was bitter about Maharishi being human and bitter about Janov being human. Well, I'm not bitter anymore. They're human and I'm only thinking what a dummy I was, you know. Although I meditate and I cry."
John Lennon, 1980
In the studio
John Lennon and Yoko Ono returned from Los Angeles to England on 24 September 1970. Lennon was 28 pounds heavier than he had been before leaving in April, a change he put down to "eating 28 different colours of ice-cream" in America. Two days after their return they entered EMI Studios at Abbey Road, London, keen to begin work on some of the songs composed in Los Angeles.
"They were laughing, crying and holding on to each other. Holding on to each other so close. Two grown-up people, and yet it's as though they were children. Not because they were saying silly stuff, but because of their emotions. They were crying, then screaming with laughter, then crying again, one after the other."
Klaus Voormann, 2010
Uncut magazine
Lennon and Ono recorded two albums back-to-back with the same group of musicians: Klaus Voormann on bass guitar and Ringo Starr on drums, with Phil Spector or Billy Preston occasionally contributing piano parts. Lennon worked quickly, giving scant instruction to his band, content to present the songs in their most basic form.
"The simplicity of what Klaus and I played with him gave him a great opportunity to actually, for the first time, really use his voice and emotion how he could. There was no battle going on. He would just sit there and sing them, and we would just sort of jam, and then we'd find out how they would sort of go and we did them. It was very loose actually, and being a trio also was a lot of fun."
Ringo Starr
Classic Albums: John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band
The sessions lasted for one month, during which the musicians recorded both John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band and its more experimental counterpart, Yoko Ono/Plastic Ono Band. They also jammed a number of rock 'n' roll classics, including Hound Dog, Matchbox, Glad All Over, Honey Don't and That's All Right (Mama).
Phil Spector had been booked as the producer on the sessions, but most of the songs were recorded without him being present in the studio. After the sessions were underway, in October 1970 Lennon published a full-page advertisement in Billboard magazine which simply said: "Phil! John is ready this weekend".
"I have no real memory of Phil producing this record at all. I remember he came in later, but I never felt Phil was like, oh he produced this record. Really, the engineer took down what we did and John would mix it."
Ringo Starr
Classic Albums: John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band
On the sleeve credits Yoko Ono was described as playing the wind. Lennon later explained that she "played the atmosphere" on the record.
"She has a musical ear and she can produce rock 'n' roll. She can produce me, which she did for some of the tracks when Phil couldn't come at first. I'm not going to start saying that she did this and he did that. You don't have to have been born and bred in rock. She knows when a bass sound's right and when the guy's playing out of rhythm."
John Lennon, 1970
Lennon Remembers, Jann S Wenner
Although the subject matters of the songs were often honest to the point of discomfort, the John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band sessions were reportedly often jovial and relaxed. Spector and Allen Klein, according to Voormann, proved a particularly amusing double act: "We would almost be rolling on the floor with laughter. They were a comedy act, typical New York."
"Spector would tell these wild stories about Lenny Bruce dying in his toilet. They were always having breaks for long stories. It was a really jovial album to make, which is funny when you think what the songs are about."
John Leckie, studio engineer
Uncut magazine, 2010
Lennon recorded a live vocal with each of the takes, as he disliked assembling songs layer by layer, part by part, as The Beatles had done in their later years. Often his guide vocals would be replaced once the backing tracks were completed.
The screams at the end of Mother were overdubbed once the rest of the vocals were recorded. Each night, towards the end of the sessions, Lennon almost tore his larynx to shreds while attempting the part; he avoided doing it during the daytime in case it adversely affected his voice.
"This time it was my album. It used to get a bit embarrassing in front of George and Paul 'cause we know each other so well: 'Oh, he's trying to be Elvis, oh he's doing this now,' you know. We're a bit supercritical of each other. So we inhibited each other a lot. And now I had Yoko there and Phil there, alternatively and together, who sort of love me, okay, so I can perform better. And I relaxed. I've got a studio at home now and I think it'll be better next time 'cause that's even less inhibiting than going to EMI. It's like that. The looseness of the singing was developing on Cold Turkey from the experience of Yoko's singing – she does not inhibit her throat."
John Lennon, 1970
Lennon Remembers, Jann S Wenner
One song in particular caused particular problems for Lennon. Working Class Hero was recorded dozens of times, with Lennon's frustration building with each failed attempt. Ultimately he failed to complete it in a single take; the version on the album included a verse recorded in a different studio from the rest of the song, with a clear edit on either end.
Three songs, Hold On, I Found Out and Isolation, were rough mixes made at the end of the sessions for reference, which Lennon felt were good enough to include on the album. The tape speed was 7.5 inches per second, half that of normal mastering tape, leading to a slight degradation in sound quality.
The songs
By tackling so many subjects on his solo debut, John Lennon left subsequent releases with little in the way of tangible themes. Where is there to go when you've covered drugs, religion, sex, women's liberation, childhood, social inequality, love, and the breakup of the greatest band in the world? In his search for originality he turned to politics on Some Time In New York City, released a couple of albums with little or no message in Mind Games and Walls And Bridges, before eventually retreating into domestic harmony on Double Fantasy.
The writing of John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band proved cathartic for Lennon, allowing him to allay many of his demons, if only temporarily. Three songs in particular were key works in the collection: Mother, Working Class Hero, and God.
Mother began with the funereal toll of a bell, before Lennon tackled headlong the main cause of his pain: the rejection and loss of his mother and father. If listeners were expecting Beatle John, they were likely to be disappointed. Mother pulled no punches, featuring bleak lyrics and some of Lennon's most harrowing vocals.
Working Class Hero looked back to Lennon's school days, and expressed his belief that freedom from conformity needed to take place at a personal as well as societal level. Influenced by left-wing political thinkers of the time, the song encouraged revolution in the head as well as the heart.
While the lyrics provide much to ponder, the song's two uses of the word 'fucking' caused Lennon's record label EMI some discomfort. They threatened to censor the recording, but eventually told him they wouldn't allow the word to be printed on the lyric sheet. Lennon's solution was to substitute the word with an asterisk, but inserted the words "Omitted at the insistence of EMI" beneath, to make it clear .
"I put it in because it does fit. I didn't even realise there was two in till somebody pointed it out. And actually when I sang it, I missed a bloody verse. I had to edit it in. But you do say 'fucking crazy,' don't you? That's how I speak. I was very near to it many times in the past, but I would deliberately not put it in, which is the real hypocrisy, the real stupidity. I would deliberately not say things, because it might upset somebody, or whatever I was frightened of."
John Lennon, 1970
Lennon Remembers, Jann S Wenner
Lennon's acoustic guitar backing on Working Class Hero was felt by many to be inspired by Dylan, although Lennon later denied the connection. In the song God, however, he went further, adding Robert Zimmerman to the list of disavowed names.
"Like a lot of the words, they just came out of me mouth. It started off like that. God was stuck together from three songs almost. I had the idea, 'God is the concept by which we measure our pain'. So when you have a [phrase] like that, you just sit down and sing the first tune that comes into your head. And the tune is the simple [sings] 'God is the concept – bomp-bomp-bomp-bomp' 'cause I like that kind of music. And then I just rolled into it. [Sings] 'I don't believe in magic' – and it was just going on in me head. And I Ching and the Bible, the first three or four just came out, whatever came out.
I don't know when I realised I was putting down all these things I didn't believe in. I could have gone on, it was like a Christmas card list – where do I end? Churchill, and who have I missed out? It got like that and I thought I had to stop... I was going to leave a gap and say, just fill in your own, for whoever you don't believe in. It just got out of hand. But Beatles was the final thing because it's like I no longer believe in myth, and Beatles is another myth. I don't believe in it. The dream's over. I'm not just talking about The Beatles is over, I'm talking about the generation thing. The dream's over, and I have personally got to get down to so-called reality."
John Lennon, 1970
Lennon Remembers, Jann S Wenner
God stripped away all vestiges of ideology and idolatry, until the central litany ended with the final declaration: "I don't believe in Beatles. I just believe in me, Yoko and me." It was intended to draw a line under the band that had led a generation through the 1960s, and did so with characteristic bluntness. The walrus was dead: here stands John Lennon, a mere mortal human being.
The album comes full circle with the brief coda My Mummy's Dead. A low-fidelity mono recording made in Bel Air, California, it was a simple four-line song based on a three-note descending melody, but was perhaps the most raw and emotionally-naked piece of songwriting he ever wrote.
Whereas John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band begins with primal howls of anguish, it ends with weary acceptance. If this was Lennon's bid for closure for the heartbreak of losing his mother, the effect was of numb emptiness rather than sorrow.
The release
Lennon and Ono recorded albums back to back with the same musicians. He considered calling his Primal and hers Scream, but they eventually chose their names followed by Plastic Ono Band.
The front covers, too, were near identical. Dan Richter, an actor who was working as the couple's assistant at the time, took the photographs using a cheap Instamatic camera. On Lennon's cover he is pictured lying on her body; on hers she is lying on his. "People don't know about Yoko's because mine got all the attention. The covers are very subtly different. On one, she's leaning back on me; and on the other, I'm leaning on her. We shot the covers ourselves with an Instamatic."
John Lennon
All We Are Saying, David Sheff
The back cover of John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band featured a childhood monochrome photograph from Lennon's schooldays, taken in the 1940s. Ono's counterpart release featured a similar shot of her.
John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band was released on 11 December 1970. In the United Kingdom it peaked at number 11. It fared slightly better in the United States, reaching number six.
One single was issued from the album. Mother, backed with Yoko Ono's song Why, was released in the US on 28 December 1970. It was not a success, peaking at number 43 on the Billboard Hot 100. "All these songs just came out of me. I didn't sit down to think, 'I'm going to write about my mother' or I didn't sit down to think, 'I'm going to write about this, that or the other.' They all came out, like all the best work of anybody's ever does."
John Lennon, 1970
Lennon Remembers, Jann S Wenner
Paul McCartney is often cited as the Beatle who had the most trouble dealing with the group's break-up. Although Lennon's bravado prevented him from admitting as such, he felt the weight of their legacy equally as he contemplated a solo career. Yet whereas McCartney was tentative in his first moves, Lennon was bold, presenting his naked self to his fans more brazenly than even the Two Virgins cover could have been.
John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band saw the closure of a chapter of Lennon's past, a fresh beginning with a blank page, and a cautiously optimistic look towards the future. His subsequent career had its highs and lows, both commercially and artistically, but never again would he release a collection with such consistent vibrancy, purity and revelation.
"I came up with Imagine, Love, and those Plastic Ono Band songs – they stand up to any songs that were written when I was a Beatle. Now, it may take you twenty or thirty years to appreciate that; but the fact is, these songs are as good as any fucking stuff that was ever done."
John Lennon, 1980
All We Are Saying, David Sheff
It is interesting that after the failure of the back-to-basics Let It Be/Get Back sessions, both John and Paul took the back-to-basics approach for their first solo albums. Although the emotional impact of the two albums couldn’t be much more different–“McCartney” being warm and comfortable, “John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band” being wrenching.
John uses the finger-picking pattern he learned from Donovan in India here on “Look At Me”. Very “Julia”-like.
He also uses a lot of pentatonic scales for melodies here, as he did with “Don’t Let Me Down” and “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)”. E.g. in “Well Well Well”, “Hold On”, and “I Found Out”. These melodies don’t sound quite like the blues and don’t sound quite like the Far East–something in between.
A lot of John’s Beatle songs, even as late as Abbey Road (“Because”, “Sun King”, the 6/8 part of “I Want You”), had unorthodox chord progressions that moved the song along maybe even more than the melodies did. Here the harmonic complications are for the most part stripped away. Stripped away also is the Beatles-era Lennonesque word play. This lets the literal meaning of the straightforward and emotionally-charged lyrics hold center stage.
My copy of the LP (bought in the US around the time of its release by my uncle) has the uncensored lyrics to “Working Class Hero” presented on the inner sleeve. No asterisks.
I think the only instrumental solo-type part is the piano on the fade out of “Love”. Instead of guitar solos or piano solos, he uses extended vocal/screaming parts sort of like in “Well Well Well”, “I Found Out”, and “Mother”. While this was no doubt the primal scream influence, it is also a lot like what he does on the full-length take of “Revolution 1”.
I like how he plays a droning 7th note together with the pentatonic melody in “Well Well Well”. Nice lead guitar playing.
The John Lennon / Plastic Ono Band Sessions
Mister Claudel MCCD-391-395
101. Mother - Demo 102. Mother - Alternate Take # 1 103. Mother - Alternate Take # 2 104. Mother - Rough Take # 1 105. Mother - Rough Take # 2 106. Mother - Instrumental Backing (with voice over) 107. Mother - Monitor Mix 108. Mother - Acetate Rough Mix 109. Hold On - Rock version Take 1 (breakdown) 110. Hold On - Rock version Take 2 111. Hold On - Take 1 112. Hold On - Take 2 113. Hold On - Take 3 114. Hold On - Take 4 115. Hold On - Take 5 116. Hold On - Take 6 117. Hold On - Takes 7, 8 & 9 118. Hold On - Take 10 119. Hold On - Take 11 120. Hold On - Take 12 121. Hold On - Takes 13 & 14 122. Hold On - Takes 15, 16 & 17 123. Hold On - Take 18 124. Hold On - Take 19 125. Hold On - Takes 20 & 21 126. Hold On - Glad All Over (jam) 127. Hold On - Takes 22 & 23 128. Hold On - Takes 24, 25, 26, 27 & 28 129. Hold On - Take 29 (fast version) 130. Hold On - Take 30
201. Hold On - Take 31 202. Hold On - Take 32 203. Hold On - Monitor Mix 204. I Found Out - Demo # 1 205. I Found Out - Demo # 2 206. I Found Out - Alternate Rough take # 1 207. I Found Out - Alternate Rough Take # 2 208. I Found Out - Alternate Rough Take # 3 209. Working Class Hero - Alternate Take - Well Well Well (coda) 210. Working Class Hero - Censored version 211. Isolation - Alternate Take # 1 (breakdown) 212. Isolation - Alternate Take # 2 213. Isolation - Alternate Take # 3 214. Isolation - Rehearsal 215. Remember - Piano Demo 216. Remember - Rehearsal / God (coda) 217. Remember - It'll be me (improvisation) 218. Remember - Take 1 219. Remember - Take 2 220. Remember - Take 3 221. Remember - Take 4
301. Remember - Take 5 / Tutti Frutti (coda) 302. Remember - Takes 6 & 7 303. Remember - Take 8 304. Remember - Takes 9 & 10 305. Remember - Take 11 306. Remember - Take 12 307. Remember - Take 13 308. Remember - Takes 14, 15 & 16 309. Remember - Take 17 (Rough Mix) 310. Love - Demo 311. Love - Acoustic Rehearsal 312. Love - (You're So Square) Baby I Do not Care 313. Love - Rehearsal # 1 314. Love - Rehearsal # 2 315. Love - Rehearsal # 3 316. Love - Rehearsal # 4 317. Love - Rehearsal # 5 318. Love - Rehearsal # 6 319. Love - Piano Rehearsal 320. Love - Take 11 321. Love - Take 12 322. Love - Improvisation 323. Love - Take 14 324. Love - Take 15
401. Love - Take 16 402. Love - Takes 17 & 18 403. Love - Take 19 404. Love - Take 20 405. Love - Take 21 406. Love - Take 22 (engineer mistake "Take 21") 407. Love - Take 23 408. Love - Take 24 409. Love - Take 25 410. Love - Take 31 411. Love - Take 32 412. Love - Take 36 413. Love - Takes 37 & 38 414. Love - Stereo Remix 415. Well Well Well - Demo 416. Well Well Well - Alternate Rough Take 417. Look At Me - Demo Take 1 418. Look At Me - Demo Take 2 419. Look At Me - Rehearsal 420. Look At Me - Alternate Take 421. Look At Me - Alternate Rough Mix # 1 422. Look At Me - Alternate Rough Mix # 2 with overdubs 423. God - Demo # 1 424. God - Demo # 2 425. God - Demo # 3 426. God - Demo # 4 427. God - Alternate Take # 1 428. God - Alternate Take # 2
501. God - Monitor Mix 502. My Mummy's Dead - Demo # 1 503. My Mummy's Dead - Demo # 2 504. Yoko Ono Poem Game 505. When A Boy Meets A Girl - Demo # 1 506. When A Boy Meets A Girl - Demo # 2 507. Long Lost John 508. That's All Right (Mama) 509. Glad All Over # 2 510. Honey Do not - Do not Be Cruel - Matchbox 511. Something More Abstract 512. Between The Takes 513. Slow Blues 514. Fast Rocker 515-Acoustic improvisations 516. Power To The People (1971 Session) - Rehearsal 517. Power To The People (1971 Session) - Alternate Take 518. Power To The People (1971 Session) - Alternate Rough Take # 1 519. Power To The People (1971 Session) - Alternate Rough Take # 2 520 Power To The People (1971 Session) - Rough Mix 521. God Save Us - Demo 522. God Save Us - Alternate Take # 1 523. God Save Us - Alternate Take # 2 524. God Save Us - Acetate Version
Mr Claudel's latest work is the third series of culmination of John's solo album demo, outtake, rough mix, monitor mix. It becomes a session sound source of "the soul of John". The first John 's solo album "Soul of John" is a simple instruments organization, so powerful power is overflowing with it, therefore, the charm of John has been condensed in the state of a historical name album known as a famous album . The lyrics content is also poetic and beautiful, and it contains the abyssal meaning as if subliming the world of haiku. Each songs range from personal things such as "mother", "enlighten" "loneliness" to "Baby Dylan-like songs such as" working hero of working class "and extremely private things like" mother's death " "Primary Therapy" (Primary Therapy)), which had been overwhelming to the influence of the primary therapy) has also been reflected dramatically.
John's early childhood picture is used in the back jacket of the original album, the concept that the life span of my heart is traced from childhood by primary therapy is projected in part of the album by the primary therapy I will. A sort of crazy John, whose first song starts with 'Mother', lyrics appear in father, and finally ends with 'Mother's Death', noticing his own madness and acting in a pseudo manner It is an album as if I am suffering from myself, it is an album where my heart hurts. In addition to this child's jacket there is John in early childhood, mother Julia, now father Fred who is a poisonous parent now, mother aunt Mimi etc on the face of the board, cute and brilliant John, how have you grown I can make you think about how we became John Lennon.
This work covers the sound source of such a historical name board on five disks, if it is this, it is a decision board, not only the songs on the album but also demo sound sources of the same period and singles only for the same period Including the first appearance sound source, there was none of the titles aggregated so systematically so far. Especially this time the first appearance "Power to people" alternate take is a sound source from acetate, which has not been fully announced until now.
The first John Lennon solo album has had its fair share of acclaim. It was well-reviewed upon its release, and reached the top ten in both the US and UK, despite the absence of a major hit single. In the 40 years since it has routinely turned up in all those critics’ lists of best-ever albums, albeit way, way below the most admired Beatles sets. It’s firmly established as one of those grown-up rock classics that grown-up rock fans should own. But here’s the rub: Plastic Ono Band is still grossly underrated.
One suspects that Plastic Ono Band’s standing might be somewhat more elevated if its maker was still alive. But this 40-minute, 11-song exercise in stark sonic claustrophobia and bitter autobiographical purging doesn’t fit with the sentimentalised posthumous image of Lennon as Utopian dreamer and modern-day Jesus. The biographical context doesn’t help – anyone could be forgiven for imagining that a record inspired by Arthur Janov’s primal scream therapy and Lennon’s twin obsessions with Yoko Ono and his dead mother Julia would be hard work at best, and a bunch of self-indulgent avant-garde ravings at worst.
But the reality of Plastic Ono Band is that it contains eleven of Lennon’s most accessible and gorgeous melodies and riffs; it’s pure Beatles, but with the layers of studio sophistry stripped away to reveal the nub of the confessional crux. The heartbreaking scream of loss that is Mother. The mirror image of My Mummy’s Dead and its invention of all things lo-fi. And, in-between, the savaging of aspiration in Working Class Hero, the pinched proto-punk fury of I Found Out and Well Well Well, the fear and self-loathing of Remember and Isolation, the poignant grasps for comfort within Love and Hold On, and the slaughter of gods, monsters, The Beatles and the false idols of the 1960s in the peerless God, which is still, very possibly, the most thematically ambitious and courageous rock song ever recorded.
All this, and a sound sculpted by Lennon, Ono and Phil Spector which drops you smack dab in the middle of a room at Abbey Road studios feeling the most famous man of his generation bare his soul and flaunt his demons to a world which didn’t want that much information. Plastic Ono Band’s greatest achievement is that, the more Lennon reveals about himself, the more universal his themes become. It’s this mysterious magic that makes Lennon’s solo debut a definitive work of art about how, and why, the personal and the political are one and the same.
