The final album John Lennon completed before his death, and you can, to some extent, piece together where his career would have gone. His infatuation with Yoko Ono continued, but it had a different measure on Double Fantasy than, say, Plastic Ono Band or Imagine. Their political provocations, particularly with Unfinished Music Vol. 1 had been abandoned not because they no longer believed it, but because Lennon had found some comfort in creativity again. You can hear that best of all on Walls and Bridges, an out-and-out pop record, followed by Rock ‘n’ Roll, a covers album where Lennon puts his ear to the ground of a genre he helped innovate for a decade. It feels quite emotionally horrifying to hear the opening song Just Like (Starting Over). From the name alone, the sentiment which comes through much of Double Fantasy, there is a sense Lennon wants a do-over after exhausting his musical options in the 1970s. An off-beat contrast between the flowery, romanticised vocals and the tougher instrumental on that opening track is an immense start.
Putting his ear to the ground on Rock ‘n’ Roll is not just a chance for Lennon to keep up with the changing tides of the genre, but to prepare for an album like Double Fantasy. There’s an element of post-punk to the likes of Kiss Kiss Kiss, and that’s not just because of the bold vocal change-up. Ono may receive criticism for her performances, during and after her performances with Lennon, but it’s the artistic style Ono had before she met Lennon that she wishes to display here, and it works. There’s an experimental core to it which, whether you like it or not, is at least different and, as a result, has made Ono an artist people know beyond her association with Lennon. It’s not that Double Fantasy takes a dive when Ono is on lead vocal duties, it’s that she isn’t backed by an instrumental which suits her experimental flourishes.
That much works better for Lennon, naturally. I’m Losing You is a staggering piece of work, the slightly industrial rock-like feel, the classic rock and roll push found in the lead guitar, it’s a fantastic blur. But that work is enjoyable because it feels like what came before, rather than pushing for new music. Lennon’s collaborations with Harry Nilson sound a little bit like this, and the ex-Beatles member never seemed like an artist willing to retread old ground. Having said that, Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy) is a gut punch of a track, a song that’ll hold further emotional weight because of Lennon’s death shortly after the release of the album. Double Fantasy has some tonal struggles – its best bits are some of Lennon’s high points as an artist, but those moments are intermittent. Erratic tonal choices sink Double Fantasy, even though individually, the songs are quite nice.
I’m Your Angel, for instance, is a wild change from what the preceding songs had offered. A classy, old-school track with that piano-led charm is not a bad throwback, but its place on the album is, like many of the other pieces here, questionable. Take Double Fantasy as a collection of individual songs and it sounds rather nice, if a bit sloppy in places. Lennon’s influences take centre stage on Double Fantasy, rather than a core theme or overarching message. It’s a collection of thoughts from Ono and Lennon that’d have served listeners better with their provocative, earlier stylishness or, even, with the wall of sound thrills Lennon reconnected with five years before this. He’s stuck wanting to rattle off the hits and yet wishes to seek out a new sound all the same. It’s an imbalance Double Fantasy cannot quite survive, but it’s likeable all the same.
