Where the howls and chimes of Unfinished Music No. 1: Two Lovers had an expression of controversy attached to the art, its follow-up does not. Unfinished Music. No 2: Life with the Lions is not an attempt at causing outrage or in pursuing the unanswered question of what art should be. John Lennon phones it in on his follow-up to a noisy solo debut which, at best, can be described as an interesting art piece. It is the continued rejection of structure, the doubling down, which rings with a sense of earnestness. But even then, there is a feeling of repetition, of failing to cover new ground, which sinks Unfinished Music. No 2: Life with the Lions. This is no disrespect to Yoko Ono, a talented artist whose provocative nature and view of the world are unique and found in her art, but Cambridge 1969 is a tricky listen for those with tinnitus.
That is no offhand remark to the importance of a work like Unfinished Music No. 1, but it does highlight the contrast in intent for Life with the Lions. Perhaps the beauty lay in no two performances of Cambridge 1969 being the same. It is the context of art which provides its purpose. Out of the blue, Cambridge 1969 has nothing to it. But pair it with vivid imagery or some psychedelic hangover, and the fear it presents is a classic example of avant-garde. But the latter does not occur. There is only the sound of Ono screaming and moaning, the instrumental clangs and whirrs from Lennon adding to the forced dissonance. There is a sense of showiness to this one, whereas the previous Unfinished Music entry had an honesty moving through it. There is an intent to be avant-garde on this follow-up, an aim which undoes the goodwill and often interesting experimentation heard on the first.
Cambridge 1969 is a physically painful listen, and there is no way of interpreting this as some detachment from the masses; it is just showy pontification from an artist who wanted more and more from his work as a conduit for public discourse, and that alone. Avant-garde music does not have to be messy or mistake-laden. It was the charm of the first, but nothing is aggravating or exciting about repetition. Where the album begins following song formats, it is the writing and sincerity which once again lets it down. No Bed for Beatle John is a laughably written piece, and it is a shame since Ono and Lennon had proven they could provoke with skilful writing before this. These are lazy, nursery-rhyme-like cries which will convince the contrarian crowd of its worth.
It is hard to hear Unfinished Music No. 2: Life with the Lions as anything more than an attempt to capture the controversies of the previous album. What publicity it gave the duo is lost here to the literal. Baby’s Heartbeat and Two Minutes Silence are no surprise, though the former is a relatively interesting documentation of what beat work can be. Lennon and Ono take their avant-garde style to the next extreme, though show they are not particularly interesting when they get to a place where art meets thought. The trouble with Unfinished Music No. 2: Life with the Lions is that it suggests avant-garde can be nothing more than noise, than some assembly of notes which do not go together. There could be nothing less true, and yet Ono and Lennon suggest it time and again on this ragged display.
