Twenty-seven years

Angela. An odd one to start with, but that's what happens when you do things in alphabetical order. John & Yoko's ode to Angela Davis.
Bring On the Lucie (Freda People). Sometimes people complained that John Lennon's political songs were overly simplistic. But does it really need to be so complicated? Do it now. We don't want to play your games. If you're not interested in freedom, the burden is on you to explain why.
Crippled Inside. One thing people forget about Lennon, that I think is one of the most important things about him, was that his obsession with peace and love didn't mean that he couldn't be angry and sarcastic...
Gimme Some Truth. ...and when people do remember this, it seems they often judge him for it, as if the two were incompatible. What they don't realize is that the anger comes from the interest in peace and love. It's so simple--all we have to do is love one another--and yet we aren't anywhere near having it. How can you not be angry?
Give Peace a Chance. With words that have been repeated as often and for as long as "give peace a chance" has been, it's easy to forget what they mean. This wasn't some dippy vague sentiment. It's perfectly pragmatic: "Look, people, we've tried war for as long as the species has been around. We've never tried peace in any meaningful way. Look where we are now--how could it hurt to give peace a chance for once?"
Happy Xmas (War Is Over). The whole "War is over! (If you want it)" campaign was brilliant, and the fact that it didn't work is yet another piece of proof that Lennon's assertion that "our society is run by insane people for insane objectives" is completely true.
Hold On. This song ain't nothing but beautiful.
How? Simple as his ideas were, what Lennon was working towards was a world so radically different from what we know that it's almost impossible to imagine. Even for him.
I Don't Wanna Be a Soldier. Speaks for itself, musically and lyrically.
I Found Out. The sound of a man working out thirty years of fucked-up in three and a half minutes.
I'm Losing You/I'm Moving On. Must be listened to together. I wish I could find them as one file, but alas, I cannot. This seems to be a narrative of the wasted years when Lennon and Ono were apart (wasted in terms of what they've both said about their personal lives, that is; they both put out fantastic music during that time). The first half is Lennon, the second half is Ono, and despite the lyrics about separation, it's one whole song.
(Just Like) Starting Over. The sense of mortality that runs through Double Fantasy should have been just a midlife crisis. It wasn't.
#9 Dream. I haven't the faintest idea what this song is about, but it's beautiful and gives me chills every single time I hear it.
Oh My Love. Love songs are important.
Power to the People. See my comments on "Bring on the Lucie" and "Give Peace a Chance." Same goes for this one.
Stand By Me. Far better than the original, though Mr. Lennon himself probably wouldn't have agreed.
Sunday Bloody Sunday. Given the choice between this song and the U2 song of the same name, I've no idea why anyone would want to listen to the U2 one. It's amazing how if you just change a few nouns here and there this song could just as easily be about Palestine or Iraq or Darfur. Religion and race have been used to justify a whole lot of bloody imperialism, and the dividers between religions and races are always just fluid enough to make it work.
Well Well Well. This song says everything that can be said about John and Yoko. Love, respect, activism, anger, peace.
Woman. This song, one of the greatest love songs ever, treads the line between Brian Wilson/Phil Spector studio perfection and MOR overproduction, and somehow makes the overproduced aspects work for it rather than against it.
Working Class Hero. This song says everything that we must ignore on a daily basis in order to function. Not all of it applies to all of us, but every word of it cuts.
Ya Ya. And because of alphabetical order we end up in an odder place than we started. This is Lennon relaxing and goofing off, featuring Julian Lennon's lifetime musical peak at age 11 on drums.



Here's Yoko Ono's new letter to John.

And here's the one song in all the world that is guaranteed to make me cry every single time, Yoko Ono's "Hard Times Are Over," from Double Fantasy. It was recorded just a few months before, and released three weeks before, John died. The hard times aren't over, Yoko.