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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