BEAUTIFUL BOY

Close your eyes
Have no fear
The monster's gone
He's on the run
And your daddy's here

I picked up a vinyl copy of John Lennon's 'Double Fantasy' (1980) the other day, not so much for me but more in honour of my late father who I once described in an article as the 'fifth Beatle', albeit from South London. Playing Lennon's final album up in my dad's old office I could sense his Obi Wan-like presence grooving away to it whilst lightly tapping a ruler against his drawing board a la Ringo, all the while working up some plans for a beautiful new Cotswold country house.

There are two songs on the album in particular that stand out to my mind as being intrinsically linked to my memories of my father and my childhood: they are 'Watching The Wheels' (an anthem for layabouts) and 'Beautiful Boy' which I'm pretty sure became a universal lullaby for fathers and sons everywhere. As a child, who wouldn't be reassured hearing the line 'the monster's gone, he's on the run and your daddy's here' back when your biggest existential fears were the creeping shadows on your bedroom wall that appeared like nightmarish creatures from the underworld. Listening to my dad sing the song to me at the end of my bed before I went to sleep was for me like the musical version of a dream catcher, ensuring nothing scary or unpleasant would disturb my golden slumber. In fact, many years later, I would sing the same song to my daughter when she was little, changing the words from 'boy' to girl' and like to believe it deterred bad dreams and such from pervading her sleeping head.

Before you go to sleep
Say a little prayer
Every day, in every way
It's getting better and better

It's also interesting to note in contrast to his atheist anthem 'Imagine', that Lennon encourages his son, Sean, to 'say a little prayer' before his bedtime. Was the ex-Beatle recovering some part of his protestant childhood upbringing by including this old fashioned ritual of grace? Or perhaps, just like 'Imagine', it is deliberately spiritually non specific in that universalistic way of Lennon's, though the optimism of believing that 'every day, in every way, it's getting better and better' suggests a moving away from the more pessimistic, broken side of his nature into a warmer, more Christian, redemptive way of thinking. According to Robert Rosen, author of "Nowhere Man: The Final Days of John Lennon, "[Lennon] was watching Billy Graham sermons on TV because he found them entertaining. Then he had an epiphany. Apparently, Graham’s words got through to him and he accepted Jesus. It drove him to tears of joy and ecstasy. He was born again." Having also declared himself a 'Zen Pagan' towards the end of his life, it's unlikely Lennon strictly belonged to any belief system consistently as he was an endless seeker, moving from one religion or philosophy to the next, such was the nature and confusion of the age. My dad was similar and had certainly done his time wandering the 'spiritual supermarket' before finding his final home with Mahayana Buddhism.

In addition to the comforting lyrics and overall breezy atmosphere of the song, I always remember the sublime addition of the steel drum on the track so much associated (at least to my mind) with Caribbean warm sands and tropical turquoise seas as well as the actual sound of the summer wind that so effectively transports the listening child to a place of complete relaxation and carefree vibes. And could that be a subtle homage to Paul McCartney's signature whistle in the background that accompanies what I assume is Sean Lennon's happy playtime with friends. I like to think so. McCartney chose 'Beautiful Boy' for one of his Desert Island Discs back on Boxing Day, 1984 and it's clear from some clipped footage of the interview that he was understandably quite overwhelmed listening to it.

Playing the song now I'm older, it's also hard not to think of all those many happy days of bliss John would no longer enjoy with his son and thinking how much emotional repair he had needed to personally recover from his traumatic childhood, losing his mother who was hit by a car when he was just seventeen years old. Finding himself, along with the other three Beatles, an international star at the age of 22, it's easy to forget just how young and how much life and art they packed into those decades before they reached their 40s. It seems as I return to 'Double Fantasy' that Lennon had found some much needed peace in his middle age and personal life as is reflected in much of the hopeful, upbeat music on the album.

Before you cross the street
Take my hand
Life is what happens to you
While you're busy making other plans

Sadly, however, even dads have their monsters and on the morning of the 9th December, 1980 the world woke up to the news that John Lennon had been shot by a one Mark Chapman and all the naive but well intentioned hopes for peace of a generation were once again shattered by a bullet, just like they were in Dallas, Texas on November 22nd, 1963.

Of course, when I was a kid I didn't learn about the Lennon tragedy until I was a bit older. All I knew were the songs that my dad sang to me at the end of my bed before I went to sleep and as far as I was concerned, 'Beautiful Boy' could have just as easily been written for me by my father and I would have been none the wiser. Ignorance was surely bliss back then.

But naturally, growing up and becoming increasingly enchanted by the Beatles and their music, I came to appreciate the lives of the men behind those magical mystery sounds and so the Lennon lullaby that was sung to me for so many years inevitably came to be tinged with grief, though the radiance and joy wins through every time such is the protected genius of the song. The island of peace Lennon creates remains eternal in those four minutes of pop perfection.

Listening to 'Beautiful Boy' has always been like going on a holiday for the ears and mind and could be as good an example as any of a visualisation in pop music form. Still to this day, if I close my eyes, I'm imagining a composite of my own beach utopia with those breaking rollers in front of John and Yoko's oceanfront property in either Cold Spring Harbour, Long Island or Palm Beach, Florida.

And, of course, always I can hear my father singing with similar Lennon-esque inflections at the end of my bed.

It's a duet made in my own imagined heaven.