I like to close my eyes as if I’m meditating and gently nod along to the notes of the piano, waiting for John Lennon’s soulful ballad to begin. When it does, I readily accept his simple challenge to the audience—”Imagine.”
My first reactions to “Imagine” largely fall in line with Chion’s description of semantic listening; I immediately try to make sense of what the song means. I don’t normally pay close attention to the lyrics of a song I’ve never heard before, but I remember parsing through the words of “Imagine” when I first heard it. It’s hard not to pay attention to the contrast between the soothing piano introduction and Lennon’s clear voice urging people to think radically. The explicit message and descriptions of a hypothetical world make it easier to soak in the weight of the words. I use Lennon’s ideal as a stepping stone to think about strife and want, in my life and in the world at large. As bold as his lyrics may be, I find it reassuring to consider what our world has the potential to be.
Over time, though, I’ve gained a greater appreciation for the effect of the music on how I feel when I listen to the song. In particular, the rhythm of the piano and the progression towards Lennon’s high notes put me at peace and build up a sense of hope and positivity within me. In more practical terms, I subconsciously tap my fingers and rock back and forth to the rhythm of the guitar and the drums. This isn’t to say that I ignore Lennon’s words when I listen to the song now. The music is less a distraction and more of a framework for the lyrics and my thoughts. If anything, I love “Imagine” because it appeals to different parts of me, allowing me to truly experience the song instead of just hearing it.
