“THE ‘LOVE SONG’ YOU WERE NEVER MEANT TO HEAR — A VOICE KEPT IN THE DARK FOR NEARLY THREE DECADES —”

When the Ultimate Mix of “Woman” was released in 2020, listeners were given the rare gift of hearing one of John Lennon’s most intimate songs through a cleaner, warmer, almost startlingly present lens. The clarity of his voice, restored from the original tapes, brings the song closer than ever — as if John is standing in the room, speaking directly to the person he loved most, and to the world that had watched him grow from a troubled young man into someone finally learning how to express tenderness without armor.

Originally released in 1980 on Double Fantasy, “Woman” was Lennon’s open-hearted tribute to Yoko Ono, but it was also something larger: a universal apology, an acknowledgment of past mistakes, and a celebration of love as healing. The 2020 Ultimate Mix restores every nuance of his tone — the softness, the slight vulnerability, the sincerity that had sometimes been buried in older mixes. With this version, the emotional truth of the song stands front and center.

The track opens gently, with guitars shimmering like the first rays of morning light. The arrangement is simple but deeply comforting — a musical sigh, a breath of peace after years of turmoil. Then John’s voice enters:
“For the other half of the sky…”
A direct reference to Yoko’s famous feminist phrase, and a pledge of gratitude to women everywhere.

Lennon had been many things throughout his public life: rebellious, confrontational, witty, wounded. But in “Woman,” especially in this 2020 remixed form, he becomes something more rare — transparent.

The first verse is a confession of inadequacy:
“Woman, I can hardly express my mixed emotions at my thoughtlessness…”
Here, Lennon acknowledges the imperfections he carried — emotional distance, impulsivity, pride — and he offers not excuses, but honesty. The Ultimate Mix heightens this honesty, allowing us to hear the tiny cracks in his voice, the softness in his breath, the way his tone seems to reach outward for forgiveness.

As the song unfolds, the warmth of the arrangement wraps around John’s voice. The acoustic guitars glow. The harmonies rise gently. And the production — clearer, fuller, but still faithful — gives the song a timeless quality, as if it could have been recorded yesterday.

One of the most powerful lines arrives like a whispered truth:
💬 “Woman, please let me explain… I never meant to cause you sorrow or pain.”
In the Ultimate Mix, this line hits differently. The rawness of John’s vocal feels almost like a moment of prayer — a plea for understanding from someone who has finally learned how to look inward with honesty and love.

The chorus is luminous:
“Oh, well, well… do-do-do-do…”
Lennon once called this “adult doo-wop,” a playful touch in an otherwise deeply emotional song. But beneath the lightness lies sincerity — a childlike expression of joy from someone who spent much of his life protecting himself with cynicism.

By the song’s final minute, “Woman” becomes not just a tribute to Yoko but a universal message of gratitude: an acknowledgment of love’s power to mend, transform, and redeem. The strings swell gently, the guitars shimmer, and John’s voice — clean, present, heartbreakingly alive — carries the song into its final emotional glow.

Hearing “Woman” in the Ultimate Mix is a reminder of what Lennon became in his final years: a man learning tenderness, embracing vulnerability, and using music not to provoke or rebel, but to heal.

It remains one of his most beautiful open letters —
a thank-you, an apology, a promise,
and a final testament to the love that steadied his heart.