John Lennon was a man of intense, almost frantic, obsessions. He didn't just "like" things; he lived inside them until they either broke him or became a hit. If you look at his 1974 solo career, specifically the Walls and Bridges era, it’s easy to get lost in the "Lost Weekend" narrative—the booze, the 18-month separation from Yoko Ono, the high-octane chaos of Los Angeles and New York. But right in the middle of that storm, Lennon produced a track that felt like a calm, hazy breath of air.
John Lennon No 9 Dream isn't just a song. It’s a literal transcription of a subconscious transmission.
Most people think of it as just another psychedelic leftover, a shimmering piece of pop craftsmanship. It's much weirder than that. Lennon didn't sit down and "write" this in the traditional sense. He woke up, grabbed a notepad, and scribbled down what he’d just heard in his sleep.
The Mystery of Ah Bowakawa Pousse Pousse
You’ve heard the chorus. It’s infectious, right? That rhythmic, almost liturgical chant: “Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé.” If you’ve spent years trying to find the French or Swahili translation for those words, stop. You’re wasting your time. Honestly, it’s total gibberish. Lennon admitted as much. It was a nine-syllable phrase that his brain conjured up while he was out cold.
May Pang, Lennon’s partner at the time, has often talked about how John was struck by the "rightness" of the sound. He didn't know what it meant, but he knew exactly how it should feel. It’s funny because, in a world where Lennon was often screaming for "the truth" or political action, his most beautiful solo moment was built on a foundation of absolute nonsense.
He didn't want a "meaning." He wanted the vibe.
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Why the Number 9?
The number nine followed Lennon like a shadow. He was born on October 9th. His son Sean was born on October 9th. The Beatles' first big break at the Cavern Club? February 9th. He lived at 9 Newcastle Road.
Basically, the guy was a numerologist’s dream.
When he was putting together the track list for Walls and Bridges, he realized this dreamy song had nine syllables in its main hook. In an almost spooky bit of cosmic alignment, when "No 9 Dream" was released as a single, it peaked at number 9 on the Billboard Hot 100. You can't make that stuff up.
Some fans argue it's his most "Beatlesque" solo track. There's a reason for that. It shares the same DNA as "Strawberry Fields Forever." It uses that same "thick" production—layers of strings, heavy echo, and a sense of space that feels three-dimensional.
The Secret Voice of May Pang
There’s a common misconception that Yoko Ono is the one whispering John’s name in the background. It's a logical guess, but it's wrong.
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That’s May Pang.
During the recording at Record Plant East in New York, the vibe was surprisingly professional. Jimmy Iovine, who was the engineer on the sessions, recalled that Lennon was incredibly focused. He knew the "noise" he wanted. He called May into the studio, which was blacked out except for a single spotlight on a microphone.
She whispered his name, both forwards and backwards, creating that eerie, intimate texture. It was a moment of vulnerability caught on tape during a period of his life that was usually characterized by public bravado.
A Masterclass in Craftsmanship
Lennon was often dismissive of his own work. He once called the song "craftsmanship writing," implying he just "churned it out."
Don't believe him.
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The arrangement is actually incredibly sophisticated. He took a string arrangement he had previously done for Harry Nilsson’s cover of "Many Rivers to Cross" and repurposed the feel for his own track. He used a group called the "44th Street Fairies" (which included himself, May Pang, Lori Burton, and Joey Dambra) to build those lush, soaring backing vocals.
It’s a "produced" fantasy land. It wasn't just a lucky break; it was a deliberate construction of a dream state.
How to Truly Listen to No 9 Dream
If you want to understand the impact of this song, you have to look past the charts. It captures a specific type of mid-70s melancholy—a man who is "free" but also deeply lonely, searching for connection in his sleep because his waking life is too loud.
Actionable Insights for the Modern Listener:
- Listen to the 2020 Ultimate Mix: If you really want to hear May Pang’s whispers and the depth of the cello arrangement, skip the original vinyl compression. The Ultimate Mix separates the layers in a way that makes the "dream" feel much more immersive.
- Contextualize with Pussy Cats: Go listen to Harry Nilsson’s Pussy Cats album (which John produced). You’ll hear the "Many Rivers to Cross" string section and suddenly realize how John’s mind worked as a producer—borrowing from himself to create something entirely new.
- Notice the Acoustic Guitar: Despite all the strings and echo, Lennon’s Martin acoustic guitar is pushed high in the mix. It’s the heartbeat of the song. Without it, the track would float away into space.
John Lennon's solo career is often defined by the "Primal Scream" of Plastic Ono Band or the political anthems of Sometime in New York City. But "No 9 Dream" proves that his greatest strength might have been his ability to surrender to the weird, meaningless, and beautiful images his brain threw at him while the world was quiet.
To get the full experience, put on some high-quality headphones, turn the lights down, and let the nonsense syllables take over. You don't need a translator to know exactly what he was saying.
Next Steps:
Go back and listen to the track specifically for the "John" whispers in the second verse—now that you know it's May Pang, the dynamic of the song changes completely. After that, compare the string swells here to the work on "Mind Games" to see how Lennon was evolving his "wall of sound" technique during his time in New York.