John Lennon

Introduction

If you had asked me two days ago where I was when I learned that John Lennon was shot, I would have said, “watching Monday Night Football, like everybody else.” Now that I’ve gone back and reviewed TV coverage from that night, I realize that that is rather unlikely. There’s little chance I would have been awake for it, but it seems that it was announced by Howard Cosell long after I would have gone to bed at the age I was in 1980. I expect my dad will shortly email me to let me know. I’ll leave that stone unturned for now. It’s more likely I heard of Cosell’s account the next day on NPR.

My plan today is to focus less on the musical responses to John Lennon’s death, which could perhaps be a week of its own, and more on how a particular song, Ellis Paul’s “Who Killed John Lennon,” rounds out our week with songs more or less loosely structured around the “Who Killed Cock Robin?” theme. After a long week, I’m feeling a bit out of gas and a bit out of time. I don’t know if that will make this a short post or a long one, so hang on!

The Song

I first heard Ellis Paul on a singer-songwriter compilation CD called Follow that Road: Highlights of the Second Annual Martha’s Vineyard Singer/Songwriter’s Retreat held at The Wintertide Coffeehouse (1994) I think I picked it up at the Newport Folk Festival. Paul’s “King of Seventh Avenue,” on disc 2 of that set, captured my attention (you’ll hear a little later why this maybe should have worried me), and inspired me to pick up two of his CDs. “Who Killed John Lennon” is from Stories (1994). (Incidentally, unlike some of our other songs, the title isn’t punctuated as a question.)

Who Killed John Lennon “Who Killed John Lennon” by Ellis Paul (Myspace)  Lyrics here.

Do Not Mention His Name

I’d like to make two quick points about this song, relative to the other “Who Killed…?” songs we’ve listened two this week.

First, in contrast to Pat Blackman’s “Who Killed Fred Hampton?“, which is very narratively oriented–

Ellis Paul

sticking as close as possible to the story. Paul’s song is more thematically driven. He’s got a point to make–in some respects more “telling” than “showing.” I think he pulls it off, however, which is no mean feat. The point of the song is different than the “Fred Hampton” song, and more like “Norma Jean” or “Davey Moore.” It’s more overtly didactic–and succeeds through some  combination of Paul’s gift for songwriting, his clear passion for what he’s singing, and a mourning for the legend who’s lost. For my own part, I write about these tragedies set to music all the time, but just looking around for pictures of John Lennon for this post made me uncommonly sad.

That Paul’s song resembles “Norma Jean” and “Davey Moore” more closely leads to my second point. That is, in some measure, all of these songs are about our collective responsibility. This sense of collective responsibility is perhaps most attenuated in “Fred Hampton,” where we can point more clearly to particular individuals. Even there, though, the song evokes a feeling of responsibility, however broadly diffused, for the police’s actions. In the end, all murder ballads work to the extent that they do this–the extent to which they force the listener to decide what the story means for them. These “Who Killed…?” songs do so much more pointedly.

As in Rosten and Seeger’s “Who Killed Marilyn Monroe?”, Paul evokes the return of Pete Seeger’s “beast with hollow fangs.”

“Who killed John Lennon? A lawyer, an agent. Big money’s best friend. And each time he’s televised, they kill him again. It’s the prize that they wanted, when he emptied the gun. And each time he’s mentioned, murder is done. So who killed John Lennon? A no one. A no one.”

“Who Killed John Lennon” implicates us in the measure that we feed the media machine that celebrates the wrong people. Recent tragedies, too many recent tragedies in fact, have driven attention to this point–that too much notoriety goes to the perpetrators. Critics hold that such media frenzies provide a pathetic last chance at significance for people stuck in a kind of impotent, meaningless madness. I’m not sure that I can weigh in on the accuracy of that particular argument, but in Paul’s song here I can supply some of the soundtrack for it. And, as you’ll probably note, I am strictly following Paul’s instruction from the very first line of the song.

That’s it for my week with the “Who Killed…?” songs. I hope you’ve found something of interest in one of them specifically, or in the conversation among them. I don’t plan another such elaborate week for a while, but I have trouble keeping myself out of such briar patches. Next week, we’re expecting the debut of a new contributor. I hope you’ll make her feel welcome.

Coda

Back when email was rather new (to me, at least), I remember emailing a request or two to Ellis Paul in advance of a show I planned to attend. I was eager to hear his cover of “All Along the Watchtower” live, for instance. He graciously replied and graciously declined.

I think I also requested that he play “King of Seventh Avenue” at one of his shows, which he again graciously declined. It’s a gripping song, and demonstrates Paul’s power of “showing” more than “telling.” “King of Seventh Avenue” is not a murder ballad, but is one of several songs from Stories that gets at the heart of music, mortality, and meaning. I’ll include it here, as well as his song about the death of actor River Phoenix. There’s a fourth song that also approaches our genre, but I’ll hold off on that one for a later week. I have other plans for it.

King of 7th Avenue “King of Seventh Avenue” by Ellis Paul (Myspace)  Lyrics here.

River“River” by Ellis Paul (Myspace) Lyrics here.