It's easy to see John Lennon around the time of "Plastic Ono Band" (1970) as an angry, thirty year old lashing out like an adolescent at those whom he believed had let him down, but his creative energy was at such an intense point that the resulting work transformed that anger into something surprisingly mature; Paul's breakup album ("McCartney") is equal parts pretty, well-constructed pop and boring filler, while George's ("All Things Must Pass") is a clearinghouse for an excellent barrel-full of sometimes very spiritual songs he was unable to air while still a member of The Beatles. John's breakup album, though, is by turns tormented, bitter, iconoclastic and tender, but overall unrelentingly confessional, probably the closest thing in rock music to Sylvia Plath's "Ariel" poems: sharp, brutal and personal, yet profoundly universal on the whole.

To be fair, some of this can be melodramatic stuff. The funeral bells tolling at the beginning of "Mother" are a heavy-handed opening, but the songs on this album arguably warrant that kind of introduction: this isn't going to be an easy ride, and you should know what you're getting yourself into. Borne of primal therapy, a number of these compositions address elemental human issues ("Mother," "Love," "Isolation," "God") in such a simple, straightforward manner that it's easy to see something of ourselves in Lennon's observations. "Love" may, in fact, be the last word on that particular subject, stripping away the complexities that emotion arouses to reveal the essence of the little engine that governs us all. And, while it may seem a very 1960s notion, "Love" may also be the keynote song here: its presence and its lack inform every other piece of music on the album, from the sense of abandonment in "Mother" to the cultural rebuke of "Working Class Hero," a deadpan folk song (in the most literal sense of that term) that frankly sums up the absurdity of trying to adhere to constantly shifting social values. "I Found Out" covers similar ground as it taps an inner reserve summed up thusly: "No one can harm you, feel your own pain." Finally, whether or not you care when he sings "I don't believe in Beatles" at the climax of "God," it's an unparalleled moment in the history of popular music, one that only Lennon could have managed convincingly, while the wobbly, unaccompanied line "I just believe in me" that follows it reveals a vulnerable hopefulness that is really, genuinely affecting.

All of the above paints a bleak picture of this recording, and those listeners who revel in relentless self-flagellation will find much here to their liking. The difference, however, between "Plastic Ono Band" and, say, the nihilism of punk and grunge that followed years later, is that despite the pain laid out in these songs, there is also hope and the acknowledgment that each of us has the strength to carry on. In a world where we have in the past couple of decades been inundated with pop psychology and where it has become commonplace to dismiss a person for having "issues," it is refreshing to realize that the language and music on "Plastic Ono Band" continue to resonate and have not dated a bit. Credit Phil Spector's uncharacteristically restrained production, which leaves the songs as naked as the emotions they describe, and Lennon's heartfelt singing and soon-to-vanish clear-headed writing for making this music age-resistant. A rewarding album worth returning to often.

Not only was this John's real first solo album (apart from the experimental stuff he did with Yoko in the late Sixties), it was the first of his solo albums I got too. Those earlier albums weren't done in active competition with The Beatles, and were done mostly out of artistic exploration and having a little fun, something done on the side to keep busy between recording sessions. This album was the one that announced John's presence as a viable solo artist. I'm glad I have it on vinyl; I believe that the bonus tracks "Power to the People" and "Do the Oz" do majorly detract from this classic album, in addition to having nothing in common with the original eleven tracks.

These songs are raw, emotional, deeply personal and painful. John was letting out his pain in song, sometimes little more than Primal Screams set to music ("Well Well Well" and "Remember"). He was mad at the world and deeply depressed for so many reasons, and was finally letting loose with his inner turmoil in all of its stark naked glory, like it or not. Forget John's angry tough macho image, the guy with a huge chip on his shoulder; underneath he was just a sweet wounded little boy who missed his mommy and needed a big hug. People who knew him said that underneath his hard outer shell he was very sweet, sensitive, and tender.

The songs I connect to most on this record are "Mother" (the first time I heard it, before I had this album, I couldn't stop sobbing because of how intense, personal, and sad it was), "I Found Out" (so aggressive and raw, and an attack on organised religions), "Working Class Hero" (most radio stations only play the censored version), "Love" (so simplistic and yet so true and deep), and "God." The lattermost song never fails to give me chills, as the fifteen declarations of "I don't believe in..." keep getting stronger and more powerful. I'm sure in 1970 it was even more chilling and shocking, with lines that were more relevant back then, like "I don't believe in Beatles," "I don't believe in Kennedy," and "I don't believe in Zimmermann." The song ends on a positive note; John does believe in himself and Yoko, and realises that he can stand on his own two feet and that the world can go on without him being a Beatle. He's reached a sense of inner peace after all of the tortured screams and cries for release and healing that came before.

This kind of music doubtless wouldn't sell very many records today, but it remains as a classic record of an angry man who was nothing more than a wounded scarred little boy underneath getting his innermost feelings out, sharing with his fans and indeed the whole world very personal and private things that many people would prefer to just keep hidden.

. . . we're talking about a wildly uneven, sparse, and, at times, amateurish debut solo album for the former Beatle. (Well, not quite . . . there was his John & Yoko poorly played "Live Peace in Toronto" album (half of which is unlistenable due to Yoko's painful screaching) and his strange, experimental "Wedding Album," "Unfinished Music No.1," "Unfinished Music No. 2," and "Life with the Lions" - - - even most of the hardest-core Beatles and Lennon fanatics skip these.) The problem here is NOT his voice - John probably has (had) one of the BEST rock `n' roll voices ever. His vocals shred when they should, with a true passion that is hard to match. His intimate songs are also truly intimate, as he evokes a vulnerability that is emotionally painful. He was an angst master. The sound quality is astounding, especially considering that the album was produced by Phil "Wall-of-Sound" Spector. The instrumentation and arrangements are minimal, only John on guitar and piano, Ringo on drums, and Klaus Voorman on electric bass (although Billy Preston and Phil each contribute a piano track each).

Yes, the album was SHOCKING when released ("God is a concept by which we measure our pain, yeah, pain," "some of you sitting there, your c**k in you're hand, don't get you nowhere, don't make you a man").

Yes, he certainly left the producing excesses of the Beatles behind. Don't get me wrong, the Beatles were and continue to be probably the most influential rock band ever, with hardly a clunker in their musical canon (They're there though - remember "Mr. Moonlight," "Revolution No. 9," "The Inner Light," "What Goes On," "When I Get Home," "Honey Don't," "Tell Me What You See," "Matchbox," "Wild Honey Pie," and "Honey Pie"?). The musical balancing act between the four Beatles and producer George Martin created a wealth of great music, many of them bona fide classics.

Yes, when released in 1970, the album STRETCHED the boundaries of pop music, with its introspective and powerful lyrics, primal screaming, and brutal honesty from a beloved, yet naïve GENIUS.

These songs, for the most part, are very good and well executed.

So where does it go wrong? It seems that some of the things that made it so great have also rendered it hard to listen to. It hasn't aged well. John may have been the first mega-star to publicly air his dirty laundry, but at times it is petulant and bratty. His barbs at his "Mother," his former band-mate, religion and society all get somewhat annoying.

The album seems to have been made in a hurry, with some of the songs a bit out of kilter (check out Klaus trying to figure out the chords of "Well, Well, Well" on the fly, or trying to follow John's vocal in "Remember" ).

The unsubtle transitions between ballads and garage rock songs are jarring. Speaking of ballads, the melodies are sweet, but mostly very simple - not that that's necessarily bad . . .

Most of the things that made the Beatles work so well (for instance, the balancing of John's raw talent with Paul's arranging genius and George's underrated playing and Ringo's tasty drumming) are pointedly missing here. Between the embarrassingly painful lyrics, the shaky playing, and the painful screaming , this is not an album that you will be playing very often, so why would you buy it?

Certainly not for the bonus tracks, both of which are stylistically out of place. They actually detract from the album. "Power to the People" is a well-produced hit, and "Do the Oz" (co-written by Yoko) is unworthy filler. I actually deducted another star for the inclusion of these out-of-context "bonuses."

Some art may be genius, but you wouldn't hang it on your living room wall.

John Lennon was a genius and this album proves it beyond a shadow of a doubt. Rarely has an artist revealed himself with such raw, primitive emotion in an album. Few of these songs were the sugary and oftentimes meaningless tripe that Paul was churning out in the early 70's. These songs were from the depths of Lennon's soul, as a result of his Primal Scream therapy with Arthur Janov.

I first heard this album when I was 7 years old and then it frightened, yet fascinated me. As an adult, I can listen to it again and again without tiring of Lennon's irreplaceable genius. Though not as polished as the Imagine album, this is the better and more towering piece of work.

I remember the release of this album. I was 11 at the time. I remember the "establishment" being stunned senseless by it. There was scorn at its unmusicality, moral outrage at its foul language, shocked recoil at its emotional intensity. And I remember the youth of the day (the older kids I looked up to) getting behind its rampaging intensity like a battering ram to say "Yeah ... we feel like this too!". When I first heard it I ran away as fast as I could. It was too wierd. To me it was the work of an insane madman - and the DO NOT TOUCH mental tag has remained for 34 years.

Until now.

For what reason I am not quite sure, but I am revisting The Beatles. It began with a what-the-heck listening to All Things Must Pass, which I had never heard, and was pulled up short by it's excellence. Now I am on an 'odyssey' to re-encounter music from the 'Fab Four' as I approach my autumn years. With Lennon, I began with Mind Games and found myself captivated by a man grappling intensely with major questions of philosophy, personal meaning, and social ethics - and extraodinarily, doing it in a genre of music he helped create. On the strength of favourable reviews here on Amazon, I decided I would tackle Plastic Ono Band. I purchased the CD and, listening to it now with ADULT ears, what I hear astounds me!

Lennon is pushing music's capacity to carry emotion to its ABSOLUTE limits. He has stripped it bare of lush production values (orchestras, choirs, brass sections) and instead uses the most basic of elements - drums, bass, guitar, voice and reverb. With just these he INSISTS we concentrate on what he's saying, and DEMANDS we get the emotion and passion he is feeling. As I listen, I realise this is the recording of a very rare sort. In 1970 there was no other man alive who had the personal listening attention of so many young people worlwide than Lennon. The intimacy he felt with his listening public is palpable on the album - how else could you possibly explain the risk he takes in screaming the way he does, taking production risks like leaving in count-ins, not bothering with fade-outs, not disguising edits, etc. and then releasing it. It would be one thing to discover this material postumously. It's entirely another for him to have published it for his audience, to have them receive it as his next offering for them. It can't be that he didn't care what he gave them - it can only be that he cared ENORMOUSLY, and he wanted them to hear THIS. Raw. Unvarnished. Honest. Real. Truth as he was experiencing it in order for them to experience their own truth. He was showing them how to do it ... to FEEL their pain, to own their own lives, to stop being 'peasants' and 'worshippers' and become thinkers who take responsibility for themselves, their lives and the world around them.

When I 'got' this, when I realised what Lennon was attempting, I couldn't help but feel enormous respect and see him as a communicator way ahead of his time. And the wake-up call to the world he crafted as this album Platic Ono Band is just as potent and relevant today as it was 34 years ago - perhaps even moreso. It's a privelege to own and experience this astounding recording.