Imagine

Rolling Stone recently informed us what the "500 Greatest Songs of All Time" are.

Of course, in a culture with the historical memory of a fruit fly, Rolling Stone meant "rock songs" and not, for instance, ancient ballads like "Greensleeves" or ancient hymns like "Adeste Fidelis" which predate immortal works like "Muskrat Love" by some time. Rock culture is preternaturally concerned with the Now and therefore sees the '60s as Pleistocene antiquity before which all the ages were formless and void.

I like Rock as much as the next guy. But let's face it: Rock specializes in the Big, the Loud, the Grotesquely Dionysian, and the Strongly Felt, not the Small, Nuanced, Proportional, or Considered. Consequently, in the world of Rock, a ballad is often thought to be Deep, when it is really just Not Blaring. It's a sort of Pavlovian acoustic response that conflates mere noise reduction with contemplation.

That is why, I'm convinced, a song as stupid as "Imagine" by John Lennon can still be regarded by millions as both profound and moving to the degree that it is the Number Three Greatest Song Ever according to Rolling Stone. You can see imbeciles swaying to this tune, eyes closed in beatific bliss, at everything from school assemblies to soccer matches to September 11 commemorations.

Oh my. Much MORE. Via relapsed catholic.