My father, John Lennon, co-wrote the song and is singing on much of it. But I don’t have sentimental feelings for the song. My parents divorced when I was 5 in 1968, and I didn’t see much of my dad until the mid-1970s.
I’ve always loved the pace of “A Day in the Life.” The tempo remains consistent, but the lyrics jump from one concept to another. If you close your eyes, you’re taken on a journey. Even without the lyrics, there’s a narrative in the melody and the dense orchestration created by producer George Martin, who really was the fifth Beatle. In my teens, the song made me want to become a singer-songwriter. Today, I think it’s far more personal. As I listen to my father sing, I hear myself in the nasal tonality of his voice.
I love how “A Day in the Life” emerges on the album—the acoustic guitar bleeding through the applause at the end of the reprise of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” followed by the piano.
My father’s words flow together so effortlessly. And yet there’s emotional complexity: “I read the news today, oh boy / about a lucky man who made the grade / And though the news was rather sad / Well I just had to laugh.”
Paul McCartney’s vocals in the middle section have an alternate feel: “Woke up, fell out of bed / dragged a comb across my head.” The words take you on a different trip, but the two parts intertwine thematically.
Listening to the song now, and my dad’s voice, it’s a reminder I’m part of that legacy, a part of him.
My father and I rarely ever talked about music. The brief moments we had together were too short and sweet. We were too busy trying to get to know each other. Today, of course, I wish we had spent more time together.
