Artists pay tribute to the beloved Beatle on his big day.
The Empire State Building shimmered sky blue on October 9th. A peace sign shone against its spire. One thousand feet below, the world remembered John Lennon on what would have been his 80th birthday. John’s son, Sean, who organized the Empire State lighting, coordinated a collection of additional tributes for the occasion. After performing his father’s song, “Isolation,” on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, Sean encouraged the music community to produce their own covers of John Lennon’s solo works. His call was answered with enthusiasm from musicians eager to pay homage to their musical hero.
Of all the tributes given, Sean’s performance of “Isolation” was perhaps the most arresting. Standing before the camera, he didn’t have to sing one note to conjure the image of his father. His free-flowing hair, angular nose, and ovular glasses were enough. But sing he did, making the resemblance all the more profound. Sean skated across verses with the mellow melodicism of a young, mop-top John. Hitting the bridge, he beckoned the vivacious howl that became a staple of his father’s later works. Sean backed his vocals with loose, heavy swipes at his electric guitar—an unorthodox rhythm style championed by, as you might have guessed, John Lennon. A mere smudge of the camera lens could have duped viewers into believing they’re watching John himself.
Following Sean’s lead, Rufus Wainwright took to Instagram to post a cover of “Mother,” a heartfelt ballad which Lennon wrote of his parents, who were never sufficiently present in his upbringing. Wainwright, known for his scintillating tenor voice—and for taking a break from his pop career to compose a full-length French opera—seized the opportunity to flaunt his classical abilities. Slowing the song down, he carefully carved a collection of notes into every phrase of the first verse. Intermittent silence between lines was broken by the soft trickle of notes dripping off of a grand piano in the background. Moving through the song, Wainwright slowly sheds his articulate embellishments for a more resonant, emotive tone. Upon reaching the refrain, he lets his shimmering trill carrying him through the end. Wainwright’s gentle, sentimental approach acknowledges the solemnity of the song’s content. His performance reminds us that while Lennon was the comic, clever popstar whose face was printed on lunch pails worldwide, he was also complex, sincere, and unafraid to express his inner thoughts and feelings through his music.
It’s often said that John Lennon inspired musicians of all genres. This notion was affirmed when Kevin Parker, the man behind the experimental, psychedelic phenomenon Tame Impala, threw his hat into the rink, posting a cover of Lennon’s “Jealous Guy” on Instagram. Stripped from the bright lights and electronic effects that usually accompany his performances, Parker is filmed lying in bed with a sole acoustic guitar—an image reminiscent of Lennon’s famed “Bed-Ins for Peace.” Parker’s throaty wine and simple guitar are prudent and unadorned. This raw style pairs well with Lennon’s unencrypted lyrics. Lines like “I was feeling insecure/ You might not love me anymore,” refuse to hide behind a wall of metaphors and symbolism. In this confessionary song, Lennon means as he says, openly reflecting upon his faults as a husband. Parker, shelving his usual electronics to go acoustic, embraces the honest, unvarnished nature of Lennon’s music in his tribute.
One final tribute came from Jeff Tweedy of Wilco, who uploaded a cover of Lennon’s song “God” to YouTube. Recording from his home studio in Chicago, Tweedy’s was backed by his son, Spencer, on drums, and his son’s childhood friend, Liam Kazar, on bass. Standing at the forefront of the frame, Tweedy draws a few jangled chords out of his acoustic guitar to the soft, steady tap of the drum. The easy undercurrent of instrumentation is quickly pierced by Tweedy’s gravelly croon. With little regard for pitch or melody, his performance more closely resembles spoken word than song. This style is most fitting for the chosen song, which is a potent proclamation of Lennon’s philosophy on life. It is with utmost purpose and conviction that Tweedy sings such striking likes as “God is a concept by which we measure our pain” and “I don’t believe in Jesus/ I don’t believe in Kennedy… I don’t believe in Beatles/ I just believe in me.” In Lennon’s day, few artists wrote so directly about themselves. Even fewer had the bravery to convey their deepest, unfiltered philosophies in song. Cautiously aware of the difficulties of performing one of Lennon’s most personal pieces on this day of tribute, Tweedy abstains from musical showmanship. The lyrics, still pulsing with the energy which John breathed into them so many years ago, need little musical support to make an artistic statement.
From his flaring voice to his sloppy guitar style, Lennon’s signature sound lives within each of these performances. Then again, these imitations might not be intentional. Tweedy is known for his loose rhythm playing. Wainwright and Parker constantly reach decorate their vocals with high, airy trills. It’s hard to say for sure, but one could argue that Lennon’s influence reaches deeper than these tribute songs, touching how these artists developed their own sounds. Perhaps these tributes are not only celebrations, but payments of debt to a man who moved music forward, providing inspiration for countless performers. Of course, as these performances show, Lennon’s influence goes far beyond sound. While Dylan spoke through symbolism and Springsteen through story, Lennon just spoke, delivering his raw, candid thoughts to the world. Sean Lennon, Wainwright, Parker, Tweedy, you and I listened. We listened to his far-reaching, forthright messages of truth, peace, and love. We will be listening for the next eighty years to come.