Milk and Honey (1984)
1. I'm Stepping Out
2. Sleepless Night
3. I Don't Wanna Face It
4. Don't Be Scared
5. Nobody Told Me
6. O'Sanity
7. Borrowed Time
8. Your Hands
9. (Forgive Me) My Little Flower Princess
10.Let Me Count the Ways
11.Grow Old With Me
12.You're the One
Released in 1984, Milk and Honey was the postscript John Lennon never got to write. Positioned as a companion piece to 1980’s Double Fantasy, it collected material Lennon had been working on during and immediately after those sessions—unfinished, unpolished, and abruptly halted by the events of December 8, 1980. That the album even exists is both a testament to the care of those who assembled it and a sobering reminder of what was lost.
Unlike many posthumous releases, Milk and Honey was not assembled from scraps or vault-digging. These were songs Lennon intended to release, part of a planned follow-up that had already taken shape in his mind. His return to music after a five-year hiatus had been enthusiastically received, and Milk and Honey was meant to continue that momentum. Instead, it became a memorial—less curated than Double Fantasy, but no less affecting.
The structure is familiar: Lennon and Yoko Ono alternate tracks, with the album echoing the format and even the visual style of its predecessor. The symmetry is deliberate, but also reminds us of the same creative tension that defined Double Fantasy. Ono’s songs here are arguably her most accessible—certainly more focused than in earlier releases—but her vocal delivery, as always, remains a barrier for some listeners. It’s easy to imagine a cleaner version of this record built solely from Lennon’s contributions, and many fans have no doubt arranged as much for their own playlists.
But Lennon’s songs stand strong on their own. Nobody Told Me, released as a single, is perhaps the most immediate—witty, observational, and propelled by a melodic ease that suggests Lennon’s songwriting instincts were as sharp as ever. Borrowed Time, with its reggae-tinged lilt, feels like both a philosophical shrug and a meditation on aging, made all the more poignant by the circumstances. I’m Stepping Out continues his domestic narrative, less compelling than earlier efforts but still charming in its way.
The real jewel is Grow Old With Me, presented here in demo form—fragile, home-recorded, and utterly heartbreaking. Later versions, dressed in studio production, would try to flesh it out, but none improve on the original’s stark beauty. It is Lennon at his most vulnerable, a love song without pretense or irony, and it lands with devastating clarity. Whether or not he intended to release it in this form is ultimately irrelevant. It’s perfect as it is.
Milk and Honey is not a major artistic statement. It was never meant to be. What it offers is something quieter, but no less important—a glimpse of where Lennon was headed, both musically and personally. The material may be uneven, but the emotional weight is undeniable. In many ways, it feels more honest than Double Fantasy—less polished, more human.
It is impossible to hear this album without thinking of what came after—or rather, what didn’t. And in that context, Milk and Honey becomes something more than a mere compilation. It is a final echo from a voice we weren’t ready to lose.
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