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Mister melancholy
'Son of' makes an emotional mark of his own
By
Marika Ley
For The Prague Post
January 31st, 2007 issue
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Being the son of celebrities has been a prickly business for Lennon.
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In the spotlight, identity is a bitch, especially when you inherit the spotlight by default at the age of 5. Look no further than Lisa Marie Presley, who was 10 years old when her father died, for evidence that name recognition doesn’t always work out in one’s favor. That seems to be the case for Sean Lennon, who is incessantly referred to as “the son of John Lennon and Yoko Ono” instead of by his own name. In 1998, the Beatle’s son said in a Rolling Stone interview, “Having a celebrity status because you’ve done something is one thing. Having celebrity status because you’re someone’s kid is really a double-edged sword.” That same year Sean released Into the Sun on the Beastie Boys’ Grand Royale label, the first and last LP he recorded until the Japanese release of Friendly Fire last September. Into the Sun made several breaks with what many John Lennon fans were hoping Sean would produce and what many critics were poised to deconstruct. However, it separated itself enough from its unavoidable historical influences that it garnered a small following and critical accolades. And then, nothing … solo, at least. In other respects, Sean was by no means silent or inactive. Touring with the artsy, hip, talented and kitschy Cibo Matto (from Japan by way of New York City) as the unsung bassist (and keyboardist Yuka Honda’s live-in buddy), and playing with his mother’s noise-art-rock band IMA, Sean kept his hand in music. He was also a regular on the fashion and gossip pages. In short, he’s not led the intentionally shrouded life that one might expect from a person unintentionally thrust into the public eye via personal disaster. The newest release is an admission to his genetic makeup. The opening track (which you can hear on his Myspace page), “Dead Meat,” is an unabashed acknowledgement of his musical heritage. Plain for all to see and hear is the inherent John Lennon songwriter methodology — intro-rise-rhythm-build-fall-and-resolution music — with the heart-wrenching Elliot Smith–style piano, strings and lyrical allusions to relationship-related depression, an emotional tumult to which the album is said to be a testament.
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Sean Lennon
When: Monday, Feb. 5 at 9
Where: Lucerna Music Bar
Tickets: 330 Kč through Ticketpro, Ticketstream and at the venue
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Sean’s first album had an air of tragic resignation, beautifully punctuated by Honda’s signature electro-ambient-synth, as well as a sentimental, ennui-ridden harpsichord. It was sad but essentially at peace, unlike the Smith recordings that Friendly Fire has so much in common with. But the tone of Sean’s latest release is understandable, given that it was written and recorded after the death of his longtime friend Max LeRoy. The friendship ended on an unresolved girlfriend-related argument. The music is as sorrowful as it is significant — and, well, beautiful. In fact, Friendly Fire sounds like a soon-to-be integral album for many an alt-indie, over-30-year-old’s Sunday afternoon ritual: Wake up, take aspirin, brush your tongue, start coffee, roll a joint, play Friendly Fire and stare off into space, wondering why you woke up alone, again. A tear-jerking repose. A soul-sighing Sabbatical. A breakup indulgence. A respite of resignation. For one night, Prague can shed a tear with Sean and his melancholic melodies.
Other articles in Night & Day (31/01/2007):
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