Playboy Interview 1980
Page 5
John: It can never be again! Everyone
always talks about a good thing coming to an end, as if life was over. But I'll
be 40 when this interview comes out. Paul is 38. Elton John, Bob Dylan - we're
all relatively young people. The game isn't over yet. Everyone talks in terms of
the last record or the last Beatle concert - but, God willing, there are another
40 years of productivity to go. I'm not judging whether "I am the
Walrus" is better or worse than "Imagine." It is for others to
judge. I am doing it. I do. I don't stand back and judge - I do.
Playboy: You keep saying you don't want to go back ten years, that too much has
changed. Don't you ever feel it would be interesting - never mind cosmic, just
interesting - to get together, with all your new experiences, and cross your
talents?
John: Wouldn't it be interesting to take Elvis back to his Sun Records period? I
don't know. But I'm content to listen to his Sun Records. I don't want to dig
him up out of the grave. The Beatles don't exist and can never exist again. John
Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Richard Starkey could put on a
concert - but it can never be the Beatles singing "Strawberry Fields"
or "I am the Walrus" again, because we are not in our 20s. We cannot
be that again, nor can the people who are listening.
Playboy: But aren't you the one who is making it too important? What if it were
just nostalgic fun? A high school reunion?
John: I never went to high school reunions. My thing is, Out of sight, out of
mind. That's my attitude toward life. So I don't have any romanticism about any
part of my past. I think of it only inasmuch as it gave me pleasure or helped me
grow psychologically. That is the only thing that interests me about yesterday.
I don't believe in yesterday, by the way. You know I don't believe in yesterday.
I am only interested in what I am doing now.
Playboy: What about the people of your generation, the ones who feel a certain
kind of music - and spirit - died when the Beatles broke up?
John: If they didn't understand the Beatles and the Sixties then, what the fuck
could we do for them now? Do we have to divide the fish and the loaves for the
multitudes again? Do we have to get crucified again? Do we have to do the
walking on water again because a whole pile of dummies didn't see it the first
time, or didn't believe it when they saw it? You know, that's what they're
asking: "Get off the cross. I didn't understand the first bit yet. Can you
do that again?" No way. You can never go home. It doesn't exist.
Playboy: Do you find that the clamor for a Beatles reunion has died down?
John: Well, I heard some Beatles stuff on the radio the other day and I heard
"Green Onion" - no, "Glass Onion," I don't even know my own
songs! I listened to it because it was a rare track...
Playboy: That was the one that contributed to the "Paul McCartney is
dead" uproar because of the lyric "The walrus is Paul."
John: Yeah. That line was a joke, you know. That line was put in partly because
I was feeling guilty because I was with Yoko, and I knew I was finally high and
dry. In a perverse way, I was sort of saying to Paul, "Here, have this
crumb, have this illusion, have this stroke - because I'm leaving you."
Anyway, it's a song they don't usually play. When a radio station has a Beatles
weekend, they usually play the same ten songs - "A Hard Day's Night,"
"Help!," "Yesterday," "Something," "Let It
Be" - you know, there's all that wealth of material, but we hear only ten
songs. So the deejay says, "I want to thank John, Paul, George and Ringo
for not getting back together and spoiling a good thing." I thought it was
a good sign. Maybe people are catching on.
Playboy: Aside from the millions you've been offered for a reunion concert, how
did you feel about producer Lorne Michaels' generous offer of $3200 for
appearing together on "Saturday Night Live" a few years ago?
John: Oh, yeah. Paul and I were together watching that show. He was visiting us
at our place in the Dakota. We were watching it and almost went down to the
studio, just as a gag. We nearly got into a cab, but we were actually too tired.
Playboy: How did you and Paul happen to be watching TV together?
John: That was a period when Paul just kept turning up at our door with a
guitar. I would let him in, but finally I said to him, "Please call before
you come over. It's not 1956 and turning up at the door isn't the same anymore.
You know, just give me a ring." He was upset by that, but I didn't mean it
badly. I just meant that I was taking care of a baby all day and some guy turns
up at the door. . . . But, anyway, back on that night, he and Linda walked in
and he and I were just sitting there, watching the show, and we went,
"Ha-ha, wouldn't it be funny if we went down?" but we didn't.
Playboy: Was that the last time you saw Paul?