Where it would take his former bandmates decades to come around to a covers album, John Lennon was fast out the gate with Rock ‘n’ Roll. Just five years on from The Beatles’ break-up, and five years before his death, Lennon would turn to his Buddy Holly and Elvis Presley-influenced roots. Rock ‘n’ Roll feels like a protest album, not because it denounces the exciting turn he took on Walls and Bridges, but because everything Lennon did during the 1970s is read into as an act of inspired rebellion. Dressing like a greaser and revisiting a guitar rock style which he had helped shift is a bold move. Lennon clearly has a love for the genre, the aesthetic, and the style. He shares as much on Rock ‘n’ Roll, an album which won’t work if you’re hoping for a direct continuation of any of his solo works. This is a break from the stress of creativity. Everyone needs to return to the well of influence from time to time.
Standards like Be-Bop-A-Lula and Stand By Me are sweet, inoffensive covers. The latter, particularly, is a very solid take on the Ben E. King classic, which has Lennon blend the basics of rock and roll with the technological flourish of the times. But those minor changes are not reflected in every song. Lennon does not have a large enough arsenal to maintain this quality read he gives on Stand By Me. Nostalgia as a form of escapism is the weakest use of our memories, and Rock ‘n’ Roll rarely goes beyond this comfort. You Can’t Catch Me has a Come Together vocal styling to it, showing Lennon is aware of his vocal strengths when adapting old material, more than anything. It’s a barebones take on songs of the past, built entirely on the brilliance of his vocal work. He adds no real reflection to these songs because it’s a passion project, a chance to leave behind the protest politics of the time and focus on the easier days.
Some would call that noise good enough for studio noodling, but not strong enough for a release. Those saxophones and brass pieces from Walls and Bridges make their way onto Rock ‘n’ Roll, so there is at least an attempt at bringing these songs to a new generation. Nothing much stands out for Rock ‘n’ Roll, but it does have a niceness to it. If you can find some comfort in nostalgia, then this is the one for you. But Lennon, beyond those heavier saxophone tones, brings little to the songs he covers. He sounds a little like Mick Jagger did on those early blues covers from The Rolling Stones. A musician who wants to play his own songs but needs to build up the confidence and credibility to do so. Lennon already had the latter, so this Rock ‘n’ Roll album feels more like a passion project, severing his ties with an image projected onto him.
Cool moments but forgettable purpose comes through on Bony Moronie. Lennon would record this very close to Walls and Bridges, a break which would take over a year to release after Phil Spector made off with the tapes. Morris Levy and Spector make this a contractual obligation release, more than anything. No wonder it marks Lennon’s final release until Beautiful Boy, which was put out after his death. Lennon drags himself through the sludge of nostalgia which had affected America at the time and thinks it would be solid stock for a studio album. It would, on paper, act as both a play up to the times and a write-off of contractual obligations. It offers both but never sounds strong enough to be a project that can stand on merit alone. It’s the footnotes and stress of the times that keep Rock ‘n’ Roll in the conversation, rather than anything Lennon does. One for the hardcore Lennon fans, and nobody else.
