This is where I admit that I never liked John Lennon. Loved his music but something about him left me cold. He emitted a self-importance that just made me nuts. Okay, he was important and probably one of the two or three most influential rock writers, but Yoko and his bed-in left me yearning to see them vertically.
Though I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the first thing to turn me off to him. I can’t remember what the first thing was or when it happened. As I grew into my teens I realized that I liked almost every other rock star more. Maybe they seemed to take themselves less seriously.
While music’s as important as brain surgery, I wouldn’t like a brain surgeon who walked around practically forcing people to adapt his views on everything. Which isn’t to say that I disagreed with John Lennon’s views. Just his persona.
If the Ralph’s find out about this blog and read this I’m dead or banned for life from their Christmas dinners which would be a shame since Mr. and Mrs. Ralph are both half-Italian and have divine dinners featuring the best in home-made Italian food.
Have to go read Rolling Stones list of the 500 most important songs (didn’t they do that last year?) so that I can argue with Mr. Ralph. I’m not sure what we’re going to argue about–I’ll leave John Lennon out of it as I always do because that’s a no win argument for me, and makes me seem intolerant.
God, I don’t feel better for having admitted this but have been dying to say it for awhile.
