John Lennon's Walls and Bridges (1974)

The idea of what the world was like when I was around but too young to remember it is fascinating for me, so I’ve decided to write a series of posts on music from 1974, the year of my birth. I hope the blend of music, history and memoir will be interesting for readers, and I would love to hear others’ reflections on the times and the music, either in the comments section below or via Twitter here. I’ve been picking up vinyl from 1974, and I’ve decided to start with John Lennon’s Walls and Bridges.

 

Lennon’s fifth studio album was released in September 1974. That was four years after The Beatles broke up and one year after the last U.S. troops left Vietnam. A month before, Richard Nixon had resigned as president, and a month later Muhammad Ali would defeat George Foreman in the “Rumble in the Jungle.” Those were the times and they outline a cultural matrix that has since faded as new scandals, new wars and new superstars have come to dominate our immediate cultural background.

As far as Lennon albums go, Walls and Bridges is more on the personal than political side, with lyrics inspired by his separation from Yoko Ono (“Going Down on Love”), girlfriend May Pang (“Surprise, Surprise”), and feelings of personal weakness (“Nobody Loves You”). Accordingly, the album artwork features an excerpt from a book detailing the Irish origins of his last name, drawings he did as a child, and pictures of him making funny faces.

Foldable flaps allow the listener to join in the fun.

Musically, Walls and Bridges has a disco-funky side which is on full display in “Whatever Gets You Through the Night,” a song Elton John helped round out by stepping in to play piano. Later, the album presents quiet reflections like “Old Dirt Road” and occasionally turns dark, as in “Steel and Glass.” This last is my favorite song on the album. Actually, I first encountered it as performed by Candlebox on the 1995 tribute album Working Class Hero. According to legend, the song is about Beatles manager Allen Klein, but I hear a dirge for soulless, high-power professionals everywhere:

               There you stand

               With your L.A. tan
               And your New York walk
               And your New York talk
               Your mother left you
               When you were small
               But you’re gonna wish
               You wasn’t born at all…
               …steel and glass.

Another favorite is “#9 Dream,” which I seem to remember from my childhood. It’s a strange song based on a dream Lennon had and containing nonsensical lyrics like “Ahhh! Böwakawa poussé, poussé!” It’s also quintessential Lennon in its intimacy and beautiful, unforgettable melody.

 

Lennon has always been the Beatle who resonates with me most. Perhaps it has something to do with hearing the album’s songs as I was going through my early childhood drama. (“#9 Dream” was released as a single the day before I was born, so it may very well be the first Lennon song I heard, on the car radio on my way home from the hospital.) Or maybe I’m just a bit like Lennon. My parents named me John after John Lennon, I feel an affinity to his creativity and sensitivity, and I have similar views on social issues. I’m even married to a Japanese woman, which has always made Lennon's final studio album before his death, Double Fantasy (1980), especially poignant for me.

Lennon wasn’t the only ex-Beatle to release an album in 1974, but I’ll get to the others when the time comes. The Seventies were a time when old masters evolved, but also a time when new masters, and new sounds, rose to prominence. Next stop: E.L.O.’s Eldorado.