We're now back here for the whole of this month to make the record. We are working with the amazing Rich Costey (that's the reason we aren't recording in England, incidentally; I've wanted to work with Rich for a long time). It's exciting and daunting in equal measure. I'm pretty confident in the songs I have this time around, and I really feel like this is an opportunity to work on being a recording artist, using the studio as a proper tool. Or something like that. Time will, of course, tell, but I'm putting my bets down now on this being a good one.
It's always grated on me as a song for a whole host of reasons: the production, the lyrics, the sappiness, its popularity, the knowledge that Lennon was so much better than this one song, and yet it's the one most people know. […] Compared to, say Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changin'," or indeed anything by Crass or The Clash or Propagandhi, it's so utterly vacuous. It's a Hallmark card set to music.
There's a pretty high dose of hypocrisy in here as well. For a man who had a dedicated, refrigerated room in his New York penthouse apartment for storing his fur-coat collection to sing "Imagine no possessions" takes a fair amount of chutzpah. I mean, I have no problem with the man collecting fur coats. Whatever floats your boat. But there's a certain strain of material disdain that can only result from being really fucking rich, which is intensely patronizing.
(This song was clearly better anyway.)