John Lennon, singer/songwriter, activist, and founding member of The Beatles, is one of the most important musicians of all time. His works are celebrated and revisited year after year, and many artists have taken on his songs themselves as a form of tribute. This necessitates the extension of a single piece of well-intentioned advice: Stop.
This is not a request made from a place of judgment. In fact, this writer has spent hours hunkered down in a recording studio piecing together one such rendition.
The songs are incredible, and they speak so strongly to so many listeners. Why would artists not want to cover them?
The answer is both simple and complicated: They just don’t have it. What is “it”? You may ask. It is a vocal delivery that is equal parts ferocious and tender. It is a deep understanding of the pain of the human condition, and a burning desire to move the needle, as it were. It is wit, musicianship, and an unflinching, infallible honesty that permeates each note the man ever played.
But covering someone’s work is an act of flattery, is it not? Yes. However, Lennon’s work is so ubiquitous, that the mission of spreading the message is essentially a fool’s errand. Imagine if one out of three indie bands tacked a haphazard rendition of a Mozart composition onto their new record. Imagine an ensemble of well-known Hollywood superstars staring longingly in your eyes through a screen while delivering the lyrics to “Imagine” as a misguided “we’re all in this together” sentiment upon the implementation of the first pandemic lockdown. You don’t have to imagine the latter, as it actually occurred last year, and it was somehow more painful to watch than it likely is to read about here.
The fact is, simply, that the bar is entirely too high. There exists many a cover rendition wherein the artist approaching the work being covered is clearly not on the same level as the artist behind the original work, musically or otherwise. This is the case most any time any artist attempts to take on a Lennon tune, with only a handful of exceptions. You know what you never hear uttered when folks get the opportunity to observe the Mona Lisa with their own eyes? What you never hear is: “Wow, this isn’t half bad! But I’ll bet people would really be interested to see my take on this concept.” That’s because no observer with a pencil, pen, paintbrush, box of crayons, or other artistic apparatus is under the impression that they can somehow improve upon the work of Leonardo da Vinci.
Covering John Lennon has essentially become a shortcut of sorts for artists looking to convey appreciation of culture and musical history, while doing as little work as possible of actually absorbing the information. The world simply has no need for another cover of “Working Class Hero,” be it from Green Day, Corey Feldman, or anyone else. The initial recording of the song struck all the oil we’ll ever need from that field, we can stop drilling any time.
Lennon himself – having passed in 1980 – has, for the most part, been absent for his own ascension in the cultural landscape to near-deity status. Consequently, he has also been absent for the widespread consumption and subsequent, extraneous, regurgitation of his work. During Lennon’s own lifetime it was less common to hear others trying their hand at his material. Those that did, however, include icons such as Elton John, The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, and David Bowie. These days the market is such that each passing birthday or anniversary of Lennon’s death is an excuse to recruit any willing, contemporary acts to knock out a series of questionable covers to be cobbled together for another tepid tribute album which will assist in the continued milking of his output for profit.
Lennon’s son, Sean Ono Lennon, in a 2020 interview with music critic Anthony Fantano, expressed his own concerns about reinterpretations of his father’s material. The younger of Lennon’s two sons suggested that artists attempting to present his father’s work – particularly more nuanced, substantive cuts such as “Imagine” – may not necessarily have much more than a tenuous grasp on the central idea of the music to begin with. Therein lies the issue: Rather than attempt to do justice to an existing idea that resonates with them personally, artists will often just slap their own name on a well-known piece of music and call it a day without getting to the heart of what actually makes the music meaningful.
This concludes this supplication. The music of John Lennon is substantive, beautiful, and plentiful. What we already have is more than sufficient, and there is little-to-no demand for more second-rate versions of this iconic work. Listeners more-or-less have full access to Lennon’s catalog, and with any luck, society will be able to appreciate this material for centuries to come. Aside from playing the music itself, the most adequate way one might imagine being able to honor the man would be to find your own truth. Write your thoughts, pick up an instrument, and bring something brand new to the world.