She broke up the Beatles; she turned John into a one-dimensional billboard for peace; she made bizzare, cacophonic art for art’s sake. It’s no secret that Yoko Ono was something of a public outcast, even in the free-wheelin’ renaissance of the ’60s and ’70s – and her strange, squealing vocals, though treated with some digestible synth-pop in the ’80s, never exactly caught on.
Lucky for Yoko, off-key warbling is cool now: The shrill baby talk of harpist Joanna Newsom, freak-folkies CocoRosie and the Japanese frontwoman for Deerhoof much accelerated each act’s trek to indie success, and opened our ears to rediscover the woman who did it first. Who better, then, to embrace and rehash Ono’s underappreciated back catalogue than the avant-garders of today, hand-picked by the legend herself. Given dissasembled elements of the Ono song of their choosing, they were set free to chop, mix and dress to their heart’s content.
It appears the now 76-year-old artist/activist is still hip to what’s good in the scene. The Flaming Lips boom their symbol-crashing bubble-rock – slightly more of a dissonant mess than usual, no doubt in tribute to Ono’s pioneering role in the genre music critic Lester Bangs liked to call “”horrible noise”” - over the ear-splitting whine of “”Cambridge 1969,”” an Unifinished Music collaboration with Lennon. “”Revelations”” duets Cat Power’s hot-cocoa purr with Ono’s far-off, almost traditional song, replacing the 1995 original’s soft rock with the blunt clank of piano keys. And, most admirably, Colorado pop outfit Apples in Stereo transform postassassination heartbreak into a sonic tidal wave wound with salty kelp strings, drowning her voice until it lines up as just another instrument – which it truly is.
Indeed, all the contributors choose to use Ono’s vocal chords instead of background noise, in most cases providing a better, and always more dense, canvas for that infamous yowl. Top-40-gone-independent production trio Shitake Monkey take “”O’Oh,”” a lighthearted stroll in Central Park on Ono’s part, and pillar it with funky jazz and Old Western jig samples. More disappointingly, some of the other dance floor-ready contributors like Peaches (who predictably techno-fies “”Kiss Kiss Kiss””), DJ Spooky and Le Tigre take an uninspired trip down the club strip.
Standing alone, each of these tracks are worth framing. Strung together in a 17-track sweep, they’re almost too good to be true. Ono pokes fun at her witchy reputation and finally gets the solo recognition she deserves; but still, as her voice cracks to confess, “”Something inside me died that day”” – over accoustic guitar courtesy of Procupine Tree – it’s impossible to deny the fascinating draw of her intimate history with one of America’s purest musical heroes.
