By Mike Farragher

There are defining moments in time where everyone remembers where they were and how they felt when they first heard the news.

My parents’ generation remembers exactly where they were when they first learned of JFK’s assassination, and the chill when we first heard of the attacks on the World Trade Center is still fresh on our minds.

A quarter of a century ago this week, a similar experience happened to millions of music fans.

I’ll never forget riding a rickety yellow bus to school on a cold December morning in 1980 when I learned that John Lennon was shot. The bus driver pulled over and started to cry, and there was silence for the rest of the trip. The world got a bit colder that frigid morning.

The Fab Four originated from Liverpool, an English seaport town heavily populated by the Irish. While Lennon was said not to have known his Irish grandparents and relatives from Omagh and Dublin, he did take interest in his heritage later in life. He wrote a scathing critique of British involvement in Ireland called “Luck of the Irish” from 1972’s Sometime in New York City.

“If you had the luck of the Irish/You’d be sorry and wish you were dead/You should have the luck of the Irish/And you’d wish you was English instead!/A thousand years of torture and hunger/Drove the people away from their land/A land full of beauty and wonder/Was raped by the British brigands! Goddamn! Goddamn!”

With the many pictures of Lennon the peacenik singing “Imagine” that are floating around this week, it is easy to overlook the biting social commentary and acerbic wit.

“If you look at his childhood, he was brought up by his aunt,” recalls Sinead O’Connor in a recent article in Newsweek. In the cover story about Lennon, Sinead describes why “You Can’t Do That” is her favourite Lennon composition.

“‘He couldn’t stand untrustworthy women, and he’s not ashamed to be a bit of a bastard. I told you before, you can’t do that’ — it’s controlling, it’s bullying, it’s nasty, but it’s also beautiful. Where do you ever hear a man telling you, ‘if you f***ing leave me, I don’t know what I’m going to do?’ It’s actually a very beautiful sentiment, and to me that makes him double sexy. His music is my breast milk.”

When Lennon died, his last disc, Double Fantasy, was at the top of the charts. I loved it at the time because I was a teen and desperate to fit in with the popular crowd who loved it. With the onset of middle age, I have grown to love Lennon and that CD even more.

“Watching the Wheels” is just one of the amazing songs on it; for me, it’s about not letting the wheels of commerce drive you away from what is important, while “Starting Over” continues to provide lessons about taking risks and never becoming complacent.

Twenty-five years after his death, other Irish artists wear Lennon’s influence on their sleeve. The whining bray that comprises Liam Gallagher’s vocal is a direct descendent of the John Lennon primal scream, and now comes news that Snow Patrol will appear on a new John Lennon covers album, with proceeds going to Amnesty International.

Exclusive tracks from the Black Eyed Peas, the Cure and the Postal Service also appear on the disc, which was made possible through Yoko Ono’s donation of recording rights to the charity.

Ono is a lightning rod for controversy with the many repackaged merchandise and failed Broadway plays that have been produced since Lennon’s death, but thanks to her, we’re not singing “imagine there’s no Lennon” 25 years after he left us too soon. Long live John, indeed.