The Bowery Ballroom, New York, 12/19/06
There's something about being a child of an icon that sets one up for
automatic dismissal by the music literati. But for those who deign to
dismiss Sean Lennon on the basis of nothing more than his genetics are
truly doing themselves a disservice.
Upon learning of the impending release of his new solo album, Friendly Fire,
I'll admit I was prone to dismiss him, myself. But there was something
urging me to overlook the usual prejudices and hope that maybe there
really was something to this news. Perhaps he might actually have
something to say? And thank the rock gods I bothered to listen to that
little voice in the back of my mind. Within moments of adding it to my
iTunes playlist, Sean Lennon's Friendly Fire has become one of my favorite albums of the new year.
Let it go down in the record books that Sean Lennon stands on his own
two feet as a musician. There's nothing about his songwriting or his
style that rests on lineage laurels. He's paid his dues, living in and
out of the spotlights his whole life, which can't have been easy.
Particularly with such a controversial parental pairing. John &
Yoko? Egads. That's like having one's very own public yoke to bear. And
so much to live up to. It was like he was either destined to be a pop
prodigy or an experimental weirdo par excellence. But to his credit,
Sean worked hard to avoid such stereotypical pigeonholing. Instead, he
joined Cibo Matto, as bass player for one of the less accessible
experimental noisepop units to come out of NY in the late 90s. It
seemed he was intent on staying out of the spotlight, intensely aware
that his lineage would shine undue attention -- and criticism -- on
anything he might release.
So when I learned that he'd come
out with a new solo album, backed by a US tour, I wasshocked that he'd
decided to take a decidedly public step back into the spotlight. It was
like an invitation for the critics and hipsters to throw the verbal
equivalent of rotten tomatoes at him for merely re-entering the public
sphere. Imagine my surprise upon discovering that he really did have
the songwriting chops to stand on his own, rather than standing on the
shoulders of the giants that came before him.
Yes, you can take Sean's new tunes on their own merits, with a melodic
sensibility that inspires one to hum along. His tenor isn't the most
ballsy, belting presence ever. But his tuneful delivery is full of
emotion, sentiment and meaning. An album full of hummable pop melodies,
it's easy to miss the undercurrent of loss and sadness that underlies
every song. But listen deeper and you can't miss the constant
references to the deeply felt love affair that ended when his
girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend. To add insult to very
fresh injury, it turns out his former best friend passed away before
Sean was able to attempt any kind of forgiveness or closure. So these
wounds are fresh and deep. And so are these songs. Very fresh, and
surprisingly deep.
Meanwhile, standing on its own merits as it
does, it's still impossible to deny that Sean Lennon is John's son. He
makes no overt references, and does everything he can to step out from
the shadow cast by his behemoth of a father's legacy. But listen to
these songs once, and you simply can't miss the genetics. It's right
there in the voice. Close your eyes, and you'll swear you can hear John
creep in here and there. And though these tunes sound nothing like the
Beatles, their arrangements, orchestrations and harmonies are informed
by a lifetime's exposure to one of the greatest songwriters ever to
have walked the earth. And it's not just John. Paul is in there, as is
George, and even a fill or two that couldn't have existed had it not
been for the simple genius of Ringo. It's not that he's borrowing. He's
just simply creating his own sound, having learned a language passed
down by a lifetime surrounded by some of the greats of the modern era.
Passed down in his own living room. Penny Lane may have been in his
eyes and in his ears, but this comes down to a sound pulsing in his
very blood.
But would Sean turn out to be nothing more than a very talented
recording artist? Could he stand up to scrutiny where the true measure
of a musician can be taken -- in a live setting? Sean's gig at the
Bowery Ballroom on 12/19 was all the proof I needed.
First
off, it was like seeing a recluse come out into the light of day. I
couldn't believe I was standing there in the presence of the offspring
of music deities. This was the stuff legends are made of. Would he
shrink from the harsh glare of the lights, or would he step onstage and
own the joint. Well, I'm happy to tell you Sean Lennon is a very strong
performer. It's intantly easy to see that he's no mere pretender,
coddling his instrument of choice, staring intently at the fret board
hoping he wouldn't hit any sour notes. On the contrary, this boy was
born to play music. It seems to come as naturally to him as breathing.
Yes, he's a bit shy. But only in the most endearing ways. He doesn't
primp and preen for the photographers and journalists, or strut about
as if to say, "Appreciate me, I'm rock royalty." Nor is he resentful,
preemptively on guard for the snide comments one could easily imagine
hurled in his direction. Instead, he's self deprecating and downright
funny. He made references to his newfound success by saying that he
couldn't believe he actually had a guitar tech who would tune his
guitar for him. As if having someone else to do this most menial of
musical tasks was completely unnatural and unexpected. He joked about
his silver suit, and about what a natty dresser he'd become, despite
his staunch refusals to go cleanshaven. And he talked about this gig
being his first ever headlining show at the Bowery, though he'd sort of
stacked the deck, considering that about 80% of the audience members
were friends and family... including a very famous stage mother sitting
in the balcony above. He poked fun at her, saying something along the
lines of "Um, thanks Mom, just don't tell me how much it sucked after
it's over. And you know she would!"
While he's not entirely
comfortable in the spotlight, it's clear Sean is about to hit his
stride. He's got an incredibly strong set list of fresh, original,
soulful tunes, and a band that does him proud. And he was the first to
point out how much of this was due to the backing up on keys of "the
most beautiful woman in the world," Yuka Honda. Long and lithe in a
devastating sheath of satin, his former bandmate in Cibo Matto swayed
silently, tickling the electro-ivories at the edge of the stage,
providing a fitting muse for him throughout the night. The frequency
with which he turned to her made it seem that though he was playing to
a sold out crowd at one of New York's hippest music spots, he was
actually playing for her. Kind of touching, actually.
Meanwhile, in a flash of inspiration that would do conspiracy theorists proud, I couldn't help but notice the similarities...
John & Yoko... Sean & Yuka.
Freudian? I leave that up to you to decipher, dear reader. But while you ponder, listen to Friendly Fire,
indulge your ears in the lushly layered pop soundscapes, and hum along
to the genius of this pop prodigy. I know, I know, that all sounds very
grand and overly glowing. But this has taken its place among my
favorite releases and live shows of 2006, and my most played albums of
2007 so far.
>> Check out aphoto gallery of shots from the show
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1 comment:
Great review. I was at this show as well, and also liked it a lot. You may not know this, but Sean and Yuka were in fact an item back in the '90s. Sean has gone on to other girlfriends like Bijou Philips and Elizabeth Jagger since.
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