Customer Reviews
I Beg To Differ
Imagine was written and recorded in England well before the Lennons moved into the Dakota in NYC, so John could not have been sitting at his white piano inside the Dakota looking out over Central Park and composing Imagine. Whoever wrote the editorial review for this album REALLY needs to get their facts straight. Nice thought, though.
As far as the album goes, it's bearable. When I try to take the vocals out of the mix and listen to John and Ringo (and Klaus Voorman) laying down the groove musically, I can appreciate it. I mean, after all, you have half the Beatles playing together on record! .
A Sad but Perfect Tribute to Two Stellar Artists
When this (vinyl) album was first recorded & released, a mere months in the summer after "what happened" it not only took top honors in my 1981 "best of" ratings (beating out many other much loved 1981 releases), but was proudly, aggressively shared with everyone I knew. If perfection can be improved upon, leave it to Rykodisc to find a way. It is/was the most profound statement of both sadness & beauty & sheer honesty by an artist who knew all too well & good of such things. If a guest didn't care to hear it, they were none to graciously invited to leave, not just my home, but my life.
I may be old enough (having been born in 1957), but do not recall the death of John F. Kennedy. However, I will never, as long as I live, forget Howard Cosell's announcement of Lennon's death (during an otherwise forgettable - then as now - sports event). At the time, I was grieving my own personal loss of a "doomed-to-fail" relationship in Stockton CA. In the many, days & hours that followed after, through what I thought were my own tears for my own issues, the new quest to search & find high & low for everything in print (local & global newspapers, some from as far away as New York & London), the excellent Rolling Stone magazines, especially of the period [Annie Leibovitz's immediately legendary photos as published on & in the R. S. issue from January 22, 1981 of a naked John wrapped nakedly around a seemingly demure, loving Yoko, to the later published R. S. that featured on its cover the still grieving widow, behind what would become her trademark Porsche Design sunglasses (that even I wore, to flattering effect, I might add), cover of the October 1, 1981 issue]. You name it - and still own every piece of what I've accumulated, "till death do us part" & the collection grows with every passing new release and/or publication.
In early spring of 1971, at a Sunday school class of all places, I brought in & played not the popular A-side of the U. S. single release of "Power to the People" (which all other classmates wanted to hear) but the clearly more aggressive, admittedly jarring B-side of Yoko's "Touch Me" (which to this day recalls memories of unbridled anguish & pain).
Along the way, especially following Lennon's departure, I've been privileged enough to collect many prized pieces of art by Yoko, some reproductions, but one that, as far as I know is, if not original, must undoubtedly be have been a limited edition. Proudly displayed, usually in the front window of my current home, is a gift from Rykodisc for having purchased the entire Ono catalog directly from them: an apparent reproduction of a glass key ("to see the sky through") with a personally signed & dated tag by Ms. Ono, mounted on a sheer-transparent sheet of thick plastic, encased within a plexiglass box, so as to see the western setting sun peering in & through, but also the height of the blues of evenings, as well as often pitch black darkness of late nights' Portland skies; on occasion, I take the box with the key into the basement, where I have transformed what was advertised as a 3rd spare bedroom into, yet again, my personal music (record & CD listening), book-reading, computer & formerly viewing (as I originally had television/video equipment in this room, which has long since moved upstairs to the proper living room). When the Rykodisc re-issues were released, I lived in a duplex, where a second bedroom was transformed into my personal listening room, the "key in box" again sat on the sill of that room. Besides the many subsequent recordings that I've accumulated, I've also come to own books (a second edition dust-jacketed, cloth/board bound copy of "Grapefruit," from 1991 a soft-covered "Arias & Objects," on to the 1995 hard-bound, open-ended boxed "Instruction Paintings & just for completest's sake, the still dust-jacketed, hard-copy first edition of Jerry Hopkins' attempt at slandering her) & the like. More recently, along with the "Yes, I'm a Witch" & "Open Your Box" remix recordings I've collected the 2005 "Onochord" mini-flashlight & postcard used to promote yet another event.
My only regret in this life is that I've yet to see her perform live. A scheduled, & ticketed "Starpeace 1986 Tour" stop in Universal City near Los Angeles CA was cancelled due to lack of sales; still, on May 17, 1986, she made it to the Dyansen gallery on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills to honor all in attendance, celebrities & common-folk alike with her presence at an exhibit of Lennon Lithographs & Serigraphs (a huge, spilling out onto surrounding sidewalks crowd, myself included). It wasn't until then, obviously after the fact, that I found out that the evening before a scheduled performance up the California coast in Berkeley (wouldn't you just know) went on as originally scheduled; if I'd have had any clue, I would have bought tickets for that show as well. Much later, in Spring 1996, when I was in the hospital, I found out, yet again after the fact of possibility, as I was confined to a hospital bed horribly underweight, that she took her "Rising Tour 1996" to Seattle. At least, in 1998, I had the simple low-key, yet still profound honor of meeting their son, Sean, at a crowded, hot & sweaty club in Seattle (the now defunct RKCNDY) promoting his first album, "Into the Sun", along with then little known Rufus Wainwright. Gathering all the courage I could, I secured both Sean's & Rufus' autographs (it was also Rufus' birthday, which I new, and apparently the band & Sean had filled his tour bus with balloons glore. As luck would have it, shortly thereafter, he made a subsequent tour stop at a gorgeous rose garden amphitheatre perched high above the City of Portland.
It wasn't until Ryko (admittedly surprisingly) reissued her recordings in 1997, that I came to the awareness that, while most of these songs were newly written following "what happened," many were also taken from previously unreleased and/or unrecorded compositions from the Apple days. Ryko also honored us with the bonus tracks including the infamous 1981 "Walking on Thin Ice" (that John was clutching the master of when he was cut down) in addition to a demo/home recording of "I Don't Know Why", in addition to a few songs from the "It's Alright" & "Starpeace" outtakes, making what was already a wonderful, blessed, shared tribute to a highly personal, if somewhat angry (and why not!) personal statement.
Now, in 2007, "Season of Glass" remains a classic, often listen to, cried along with, work by a brilliant, artistic woman. Unfortunately, as with the mis-educated public's understanding of the death of ("Mama") Cass Elliot, until Yoko is accorded both artistic & genius status that she so rightly deserves, it will forever be a cause of personal anguish, pain, and yes, perseverance for me to see her duly honored . . . hopefully prior to her, & my, demise.
On a personal note, Yoko was born in the same year as my beloved father (1933), and ironically, on the same day, February 18, as his beloved father (who also died within mere days of Lennon, in 1980). As with every other piece of vinyl I proudly own in my still seemingly vast collection (along side an even greater compact disc collection), every one of Yoko's Apple, Geffen, Polydor, etc. releases live, in dust-jackets, no less (included in those albums are original inclusions, such as the still folded poster [Yoko on the links?] & postcard [a hole to see the sky through] of "Fly," as well as the lyric-printed sleeves of "Approximately Infinite Universe").
I am just this May day, in 2007 listening to the brilliant remix collaborative release "Open Your Box," with each track I am once again reminded what a talent we, the entire world, have in Ms. Yoko Ono. I've recently said it, at the time of my 50th birthday, that I want nothing more than to visit New York City to view both the Dakota apartment building & also the "Strawberry Fields" mosaic in Central Park. I've said as recently as yesterday: I'm not dead yet. NYC will happen for me. Hopefully, somewhere along the way an actual experience of Yoko on stage will as well. Hope springs.
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A deeply moving experience, and to hell with the Yoko haters...
It's an immensely moving, substantial album that grows in depth over time. This was the first Yoko album I ever bought. This is a great album, one of Yoko's best, filled with anger, grief, sadness, and maybe, a little hope. It's a lot more straightfoward than Fly or Approximate Infinite Universe, but it is no less a work of art than those other two albums are. The songs here are achingly beautiful, many of which were written before John's death. Yoko poured her heart and soul into this album, and it really shows. I especially love the tenderness of Toyboat, Silver Horse, and Goodbye Sadness. Mother of the Universe is an amazing uplifting, spiritual song that ends the album. The anger and pain of No, No, No and I Don't Know Why are brilliant. I Don't Know Why is especially cathartic, when Yoko screams "You bastards! Hate us, hate me. We had everything". Most of you Yoko haters here still hate her, but she knows you very well, and she doesn't really give a rat's a** about you. I am really astounded at the ridiculously negative, hateful, short sighted reviews that do not address the music that is contained on this CD, but rather the woman herself. I doubt that even a handful of you have actually listened to this CD, and you probably don't intend to. You would rather just indulge in a common sport known as Yoko bashing. Yoko will probably not be remembered by any of you for her art, but for "the phone calls I never made/The letter I never mailed/And the stories I never finished telling anyone". No matter what she does, it's never good enough. Well, what she does is good enough for me. . . .
. You can see a complete list of all Yoko Ono discography, or go back to the Yoko Ono tabs
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