I Listened to (most of) Yoko Ono’s Discography so You Don’t Have to, or, a Defence of Yoko Ono’s Music

I am not here to discuss Yoko Ono as a person (Though I know that in the end I will). That is neither something that I feel I am qualified to talk about, nor is it something I think I can change anyone’s opinion on. What I am here to do is talk about Ono’s music, and why people should give her a second, or possibly a first, chance. I have decided to talk about Ono’s albums up until the 90s, because Starpeace is the last album of hers I own on vinyl and it marks the beginning of her second musical hiatus.

When an average person talks about Yoko Ono, they talk about her being somewhat of a “no talent hack” that simply leeched off of John Lennon’s success.There is nothing farther from the truth. Prior to meeting Lennon, Ono was a creative force in her own right. She was heavily invovled in the Fluxus movement, which is a sort of neo-Dada approach to art that emerged in the 1960s. Ono’s Cut Piece (1964–1966), in which she invited members of an audience to cut pieces of clothes from her body has been re-created and reimaged by other arists, such as Marina Abramović’s Rhythm 0 (1974). In addition, her 1964 book Grapefruit was another way to push the boundaries of art. The book is a set of artistic instructions that readers can recreate if they wish to make their own version of Ono’s art. Ono and Lennon met at one of her art exhibits.

Yoko Ono is no hack in the art world.

However, she didn’t enter the music world until she met Lennon. She had grown up learning music (her father a failed pianst turned banker), and dabbled in almost all other forms of media. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before her rebellious attitude towards art moved onto a rebellious attitude towards music. When one is asked what they think of Ono’s music, it’s generally met with a cringe, as they recall what they have been told about her music. What they’ll say is that all she does, really, is screech. It’s just screeching for an inhumanly long amount of time. I’d bet that most people who say that have never sat down and actually given Ono’s music a chance.

I will be the first to admit that Ono’s first few albums, done in collaboration with John, are not the kind of music most people will enjoy.

Ono’s first real foray into music was the disastrous Unfinished Music №1: Two Virgins. The album cover features the couple completely nude, and the controversy over the cover overshadowed the rest of the album. It’s exactly what the title says: unfinished music. It’s an experiment of the avant-garde, and it is Ono and Lennon pushing the boundaries of what could be considered music. It is simply two artists who have made a connection playing around with tape recorders for a half an hour. I adore it! I adore all 30 minutes of this album, and I wouldn’t have complained if there were another 30. However, I live for art that pushes the boundries of art, and this album isn’t for anyone. There’s a lot of Ono’s warbling, and a lot of them yelling at each other. It is an album of ambient noise. Even so, I find this album beautiful for what it stands for, which is the sounds of Lennon and Ono falling in love.

Unfinished Music №2: Life with the Lions, quite frankly, is an exercise in discomfort. The entire first half of the album is Ono’s iconic half-screech half-caterwaul while John plays guitar feedback. It’s like Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music on steriods. It also came years prior to Metal Machine Music, so if you want to be generous you could say that №2 is ahead of its time. The second half has one of my favorite Ono songs, “No Bed for Beatle John,” which is Ono reading excerpts from various newspapers about John Lennon. Her voice is gentle, and I find myself going back to listen to it time again.

And then “Baby’s Heartbeat” begins, and the listener is stuck hearing the heartbeat of one of the babies that Ono miscarried for five minutes. It is the most uncomfortable five mintues ever put to tape. It is hair raising, skin crawling, and wholly uncomfortable. It is followed up by two minutes of pure silence. It is meant to make the listener squirm out of their seat. It is a reminder that there can be such a thing as too personal. The last track is Lennon playing with a radio for 12 minutes, and then the album is mercifully over. I don’t think this album is without merit: it sets out what it is meant to do, which is give the listener a glimpse into the lives of two superstars. It just happens to be a unpleasant glimpse.

Their final experimental album, Wedding Album, continues with the theme of Ono and Lennon’s lives. It is avant garde at its finest. There are two tracks. One is Ono and Lennon yelling each other’s names over their heartbeats for nearly half an hour. I don’t find this track terrifying, like I do “Baby’s Heartbeat,” possibly because of their yelling. The second, and final, track “Amsterdam” opens with Ono singing “Let’s hope for peace” for ten minutes, and the final 20 is a mixture of interviews, various recordings from their “Bed-In,” and ends with Lennon singing. It reminds me a lot of Unfinished Music №1, with Ono and Lennon once again testing the limits of music while living their daily lives.

Her next two albums, Yoko Ono/Plastic Ono Band, which is the companion piece to Lennon’s Plastic Ono Band, and Fly are both experimental rock albums. I’m sure they cemented Ono as the screeching woman she’s known to be. Once again, these albums are not for everyone, and I find these albums are best listened to if one sees Ono’s voice as not singing, but as another instrument. I am constantly in awe of how much control Ono has over her voice. I can’t imagine having the control to be able to make half the noises Ono does, and I’m certain if I tried that I would destroy my vocal chords in the process. The best track out of the two albums is “Don’t Worry Kyoko (Mummy’s Only Looking for Her Hand in the Snow),” and it is a good sampling of the rest of what Fly and Plastic Ono Band have to offer. The best way to describe these albums is that they are a blend of avant-garde and proto-punk. They are also two albums that I could find myself forcing friends to listen to, unlike the previous three.

Some Time In New York City, Ono and Lennon’s final collaboration before their withdrawl from the public eye, has one glaring flaw: it is overproduced. That is common of Lennon’s last few albums (I can barely listen to Rock ‘n’ Roll). Ono’s few solo songs on the album, though, are the stand out tracks. “Sisters, O Sisters” is an upbeat bop, and “We’re All Water” is a fast paced jam that doesn’t sound like any other Ono tracks—and her caterwauling works best with rock music. The third and fourth sides of album are from a live performance. Side three is two live recordings of previously released Ono tracks, “Cold Turkey” and “Don’t Worry Kyoko…”, and side four is another live recording, this time of the couple along with The Mothers Of Invention. Ono only provides backing vocals, but it’s Zappa, so of course it’s amazing. There isn’t much pure Ono on the album, as she mostly provides backing vocals or sings along with Lennon. Frankly, if someone was to ask me my opinion on Some Time…I’d tell them to listen to those two Ono tracks, listen to the live half, and skip the rest.

Ono’s last two solo albums before she became pregnant and gave birth to Sean, Approximately Infinite Universe and Feeling the Space showcase Ono at her most “mainstream,” if one can call anything Ono did mainstream. Her music takes on an openly feminist slant, unsurprising after the shitstorm that is Woman Is the [Censored] of the World.” (Not only is Ono the first punk, she’s also the first riot grrrl.) The real standout track on Universe is What a Bastard the World Is — Ono complaining about the box she and so many other women find herself in. Universe… is simply a fantastic album. Every song is strong, and I would point to this as the best place to start with Ono’s music. Feeling the Space is also an accessible album, and it is a foreshadowing of the kind of music Ono will end up making post-Lennon. I cannot express how much I love Ono’s singing voice — it is delicate, in a way completely opposite to what people think of when they think of Ono. I cannot recommend either of these albums enough, and it’s a shame that they’ve been buried by Ono’s bad reputation.

And then Ono stopped making music, and then Lennon stopped making music, and they raised a child for a couple of years.

On Ono’s final album with Lennon, Double Fantasy, Ono shines as an musician. When I talk about Double Fantasy, I call it half an Ono album and half a Lennon album, because that is what it is. They each get seven songs, and while some of their songs act as a call and response, they do not feature on each other songs. Both artists are at their strongest here, together while apart, and while John’s songs on this album are good (“Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)” is gut-wrenching), Ono is where the album shines. Her first track, “Kiss Kiss Kiss” sets the stage for the rest of her songs. Ono has a lovely soprano voice, and the song ends with her faking an orgasm, showcasing the higly personal nature of the album, much like the couple’s earlier work. The strongest song on the album, in my opinion, is also the final one. “Hard Times Are Over” is an example of irony at its cruelest: Ono is exhilarated that she and John have finally found happiness, yet, months later, Lennon is shot and killed.

I see Double Fantasy as a concept album about Lennon and Ono’s marriage, and while I believe that to be its greatest strength, many see it as it’s greatest weakness. It is an album about happy people in a happy point in their lives singing about happy things. They have made it through the rough patches that couples go through, and are ready to spend the rest of their lives together, telling each other that the future can only be full of happiness. I listen to this album and fall for their idealized version of each other, and wonder if I will ever find love the way that this album makes love sound.

And then Lennon dies. Ono funnels her grief into Season of Glass, one of the saddest albums ever recorded. Lennon’s bloody glasses are on full display on the cover: Ono’s way of remembering her husband and a way of begging for peace. All 14 tracks are Ono trying to come to terms with Lennon’s death — this was released in June of 1981, barely half a year after Lennon passed, and it shows. It takes all of the joy of Double Fantasy and turns it on its head, and shows a woman wondering how the world could be so cruel. On “Even When You’re Far Away” Ono laments that “We don’t know how to love without fear.” I find myself crying ever time I listen to this album. It is so powerful emotionally, even if one thinks that John Lennon was the biggest bastard of all time. “No, No, No” opens with three gunshots and a screech, and the rest of the song is dissonant and frantic as Ono tries to come to terms with what has happened. She yells at Lennon from beyond, saying that “you promised me/I don’t remember what you promised/I know you didn’t keep it.” I see this album as a companion, or possibly the forgotten second vinyl, to Double Fantasy. As sad as it makes me, I listen to it again and again, because it is a beautiful album, and I believe that everyone can benefit from listening to it.

It’s Alright (I See Rainbows) is half a continuation of Season of Glass and half Ono learning how to live with grief. This album is very much new wave Yoko Ono, and I wish I could personally shake the hand of whoever suggested that Ono used a synthesizer. Side one features tracks such as “Never Say Goodbye,” “Loneliness,” and “Tomorrow May Never Come,” allowing for Ono to say her last goodbyes to Lennon. Side two opens with Sean Lennon telling his mother that she must “wake up,” which is an opener to the rest of the album: Ono must move on, and learn how to live without the man she thought she would always have. The first track of the second side, and half the title of the album, “It’s Alright,” is Ono reminding herself that she will one day feel closer to right again, and that “when you feel down/Hold your heart and say its gonna be alright.” The last track, and the other half of the title, “I See Rainbows,” is Ono beginning to return to the happiness she felt on Double Fantasy. The last lines on the album are “I see tomorrow/I see us sending rainbow thoughts,” and it is a reminder than no matter how hard times get, tomorrow will always come.

The first posthumous Lennon release, Milk and Honey, is a true companion piece to Double Fantasy. In this case, though, Lennon has been dead for years and all of his songs were recorded during the Double Fantasy sessions. Ono’s songs, not so much. It is much like Double Fantasy, but instead of them both being joyous over the future, Lennon is trapped in a happier past with songs like “Grow Old With Me,” and Ono is singing to the memory of her husband. It doesn’t have the same emotional depth or strong songwriting as the earlier Double Fantasy, and it feels stagnant, rather than Season of Glass and It’s Alright (I See Rainbows), where a sense of coping and continuing is present. The highlights of the album for me are “Your Hands,” because I’m a sucker for Ono speaking Japanese, and “O’ Sanity,” a short piece where Ono begs to be allowed to leave her sanity behind while she grieves. It’s not a bad album — it just feels like it was released a few years too late.

The final album I’ll be talking about, Starpeace, is Ono’s final album of the 80s and her final album before her second hiatus. The reason for her second hiatus? No one cared about her music anymore, which is a shame. Starpeace is a wonderful album, and a cry for peace in Reagan-era America. The first track, Hell in Paradise, sounds like something that would fit in perfect on MTV, with a weird video to go along with it. My favorite track on the album, though, is Rainbow Revelation. It’s a laid-back track, in which Ono blesses the listener for feeling stereotypically negative emotions (anger/sorrow/greed) while reminding them to funnel it for positive purposes. It makes me cry whenever it comes on, and it shows just how powerful Yoko Ono is as a lyricist. Starpeace is an album about peace and love in Reagan’s fear filled America, and the message will always be prevalent as long as there is hatred. There is nothing wrong with happy music, and there is nothing wrong with optimism. It is Ono being Ono, and I love this album for its message.

I’d love for Yoko Ono to one day get the respect she deserves as an artist, as a musician, as a woman, and as a person in general. I cannot wait for the day when I can tell people that I love Yoko Ono’s music and I won’t be met with shock. I hope that you’ve read this all, and have decided to give one album a listen, at least. If not, I hope that you go out and learn more about Ono’s art — look at her with a clean slate. Or don’t, and continue to think of her how you always have. No matter what,

“Bless you, bless you, bless you/Bless you for what you are

Just remember, you are loved/remember I love you.” — Yoko Ono