Plastic Ono Blog...

It's 1982, maybe 1983 - maybe later even than that, this moment lost in the fuzzy video rewind of time. I'm upstairs in my bedroom and I'm playing the tape of John Lennon's Plastic Ono Band LP that Alexa Kesseller has made for me on a 90 minute EMItape. I use the first track to practice my high-register, fullthroat singing technique, belting along with it, trying to ape Lennon's phrasing;

Mother,

You had me

But I never had you

I

Wanted you

You didn't want me


It's a heavy song.


So I

Just got to tell you

Goodbye,

Goodbye.


[he does a wonderful blue note arabesque that stretches the last 'bye' taut with emotion]


Father,

You left me

But I never left you

I

Needed you

You didn't need me

So I

I just got to tell you

Goodbye,

Goodbye.



Children,

Don't do

What I have done

I

Couldn't walk

And I tried to run



[the 'run' is screwed up in his throat, contorted into 5 or 6 syllables before he grunts the last bit out, like the last, obstinate cling-on of shit.]



So I just got to tell you

Goodbye,

Goodbye.



At this point, the stately tempo of Ringo's drumming breaks into step with Lennon's churchy piano cascades, tumbling along with the crecendoed mantra of pain he and I will squall out in unison to the fade:



Mama don't go,

Daddy come home

Mama Don't gooo-oh,

Daddy come ho-o-ome

Mama don't gooooooooo-ooohh

DAD-dy come ho-o-ome

Mama don't GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-OH

Daddy come Home.

[I really let go on this next one]

MAMA DON'T GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO$$%%$$**&&&&&&&&!"**

DADDY COME At this point, I hear my father's key in the door.

"I'm home son," he announces, deadpan, to the stairwell.

Subscribe to The Robert Swipe Show

© 2006 Swipe Enterprises