Sean Lennon's Friendly Fire is currently featured on The Booth at MySpace. We love it, but before getting into our review, let's acknowledge and chase from our parlor the elephant, so we don't have to clean up after it.
When you hear his name, you can't avoid it, and we're no different. We can't forget who Sean Lennon is: a Sunnydale survivor who planted both boots on the blessed boards of the Bronze, in When She Was Bad--the premiere episode of the sacred second season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Yes, you can see him with Cibo Matto, playing Spoon, and later Sugar Water (while Buffy dances her sexy dance, making Angel jealous, and Xander crazy). Yes, that episode goes to eleven: Ice cream on noses! I mock you with my ice cream cone, Amish guy! I have to consult my books! We're you're bosom friends--the friends of your bosom! Clog dancing! Did I ever thank you for saving my life--don't you wish I would? Spank your inner moppet! Bitca! Undead American! It's entirely pointy! Well, we could grind our enemies into talcum powder, but gosh, we did that last night!
And we're back. So yes, bias can make a person buy a CD, and write favorably about it, but spend an afternoon with a toddler you adore, and you'll know bias bears only so much repetition. We've been listening to Friendly Fire non-stop for days, and still go straight to it, each morning. We're buying it this evening and say, without reservation, if it had been put out by one Betty Louise Plotnik of Blue Falls, Missouri (if you get that, good on ya), we'd still be listening. And listening. And listening. And buying it (but just the once--we have a mortgage). Now, to the music...
Dead Meat: Take well-fanged lyrics, deliver them via deceptively airy vocals, layered atop a melody resigned and melancholy--where you would expect it to be angry--and the results are heartbreaking. The verses veer from their vengeance quest only slightly, when anticipating a taste of the sweet, sweet schadenfreude afters. She was ready to argue that it was an odd choice for first single, then her subconscious spent the weekend demonstrating just how wrong She was. She's been humming, singing, and whistling it since Friday. She's chalking up her initial reaction to the fact that we both find the premise (getting that which we deserve) entirely chilling. We're not horrible people, as people go, but well...you know how people go. We prefer grace to just deserts (and cake to death) thank you. An instant earworm, Dead Meat makes a fine first single, because it is hard to forget.
Wait for Me: The second track is another favorite. We are tempted to extend our Buffy/Bronze/Betty Louise pretense, but choose to follow Lennon's bold lead. Wait for Me candidly acknowledges the powerful influence of John Lennon, with nods to Harrison, Starr, and McCartney, as well. It is in embracing this part of his legacy so openly, that Sean Lennon lays to rest any charges that his work is somehow derivative. Doing it so frankly on the second track? That's just plain gutsy. Reportedly, his artistic influences are as wide as they are deep, and although Wait for Me is readily available pop on its surface, there are twists where we would expect mere turns. These twists--notably in the bridge--continue to delight after repeated plays. Fair warning: the beat is damned seductive. You may find yourself swaying or doing a little chair-dance, while Lennon reminds you that everyone is born to die, and although you're free to take your time, you shouldn't take his.
Parachute: One listen, and we're struck by how hopeful this song is. Two listens, and we're impressed by realism--stark to the point of pessimism. Three listens, and we're drowning in futility. Four listens, and we're wondering if he means to be so nasty, when he changes the oft repeated and reassuring, "If I have to die tonight, I'd rather be with you," to "I'd rather it was you." A fifth listen and we're trying to remember if it was Descartes who questioned whether we're really dreaming when we think we're awake and vice versa. She remembers exactly where she was sitting, the first time she wondered that (as a child), and remembers the thrill she felt, when her own children questioned reality in the same way. By the sixth listen, we've come right back to hope, etc. Well played, Mr. Lennon. Well played.
Friendly Fire: Another cut that catches us unaware, the title track's sound is mournful, but the lyrics are a bluntly angry accusation. It is heavy enough that we've had to skip it a few times, as She is easily induced toward headlong dashes into the depths of despair. Startlingly raw, for all that the music is mellow, there's nothing false in it; it might be easier to ignore if there were.
Spectacle: We haven't decided about this one, yet. "You're always such a spectacle," hooks us right away, but holds on a bit too loosely. Spectacle neither resists stanza/refrain organization nor readily submits to it. Something about it feels over our heads in a Brian-Wilson-at-his-most-esoteric sort of way, and probably is. We're not music critics. We're not even TV critics, just TV bloggers (and mostly in theory). In part, we're uncomfortable assessing this one, because of its personal nature. The whole CD is intensely personal, but Spectacle makes us feel a bit like dinner party guests who arrive a polite ten minutes after the planned cocktail hour begins, only to find our host in the middle of an extremely personal argument with his spouse. Or maybe it's after dinner, and he's gone to get more wine, and returned in his skivvies. He accuses his lover of making a spectacle of herself, "Your favorite dress for the world to see through..." Still, we can't help but think he's making an intentional spectacle of himself, perhaps as an object lesson: "Well I thought you were shallow, then I fell in deep, why couldn't you keep it our little secret? You're my only weakness."
Tomorrow: This song gets three paragraphs. Hey! It wanted the whole entry. She had a hard time getting past it. That's not criticism; it's a profession of love. Profound love. She'd spent the week prior, trawling iTunes radio for a reliable source for the old standards and found the 1920's Radio Network, which took the edge off her thirst, but didn't quite slake it. Clearly, She'd been waiting for Tomorrow all along, even before she'd met it. She fell so hard and fast that She had to force herself past it, so we could listen to the rest of Friendly Fire. As near as we can tell from our inexact timing, the song is exactly two perfect minutes long. Word has it Sean Lennon set out to write a Cole Porter standard, and well--didn't he just!
The bridge (we think it's a bridge--but there are vocals--the bit in the middle that's different from both the beginning and end) has an ineffable quality that somehow brings to mind two Beatles songs--Girl and Norwegian Wood, even though all three songs differ in structure and style. Between first draft and posting this entry, we read Steve Hochman of Calendar Live noting similarities between Girl and the title track, instead (we'd link, but the page is no longer available), which makes us wonder if we're only hearing the elder Lennon and company in Tomorrow because we love it and them. So, we'll cop to the fact that we're always going to be making associations with Sean Lennon's work that we'd never think of making when listening to Betty Louise Plotnik. But, if Betty Louise had written and recorded this song, we'd start a fan club for her, and name our babies after her.
Tomorrow may be the perfect showcase for Lennon-as-singer, not just because it is well within his range and his vocals are crystal clear, but also because the lyrics are perfectly suited to his wistful voice. Despite the sad story, you can't help believe (or at least hope) the lyrics are lying, when Lennon indulges in a little vocal glissade. Yes, your music teacher told you not to do that. She told you that, because you were ten, had no restraint, and sounded like a drunken lounge act. You're over 21, now. Go ahead. It feels good, yes? Yes it does, but you know why? The glissade is whimsical, and well...hopeful.
On Again Off: We would like to apologize to this entirely acceptable song of some complexity. We're still thinking about Tomorrow. On Again Off's detachment stands out in the face of so much intimacy. We can't help but wonder if On Again Off is a confession of complicity in love gone wrong, or more of a warning label (see Falling Out of Love). And that's all we've got, because we're still all -- I promise to stop loving you tomorrow, but today can we pretend it's not too late.
Headlights: Anything we try to say about this song makes us sound like pretentious drunks holding court in the local pub. Not that we're above that (cf. the rest of this review), but you must be tired. Just listen to Headlights. It's got a back beat, you can't lose it...
Would I Be: The music reverberates the way questions do. The style is a bit of a departure from the rest of the album, and reminds us (fondly) of radio staples from our 1970s childhood. The final instrumental deconstruction leaves us questioning when and where it will end--not like a torture session or anything--it simply refuses to be definitive, which makes it intriguing, if less accessible.
Falling Out of Love: Musically, it picks up where Would I Be leaves off, then changes on a dime. Thematically, it feels like an announcement made the day after Tomorrow, and also a bit like we've run into Lennon six months hence, and just happened to overhear him warning off potential Rebound Girl. Years ago, before She met He, She dated a musician; whom we'll call "Musician" so you don't confuse him with He. When they met, Musician was ridiculously upfront about the fact that he was coming off a decade long relationship which ended because Musician wasn't ready for marriage and his woman was. As Rebound Girl, She knew her chapter in his story could only have one ending, but Musician kept calling and She kept answering, despite herself. This song is exactly like that--and ends abruptly, as these things do.
In short, this fire burns, yet we keep walking right through it. We first suspected Sean Lennon would be on his mettle with Friendly Fire,when we had only heard the demo Idea, (available on the Sean Ono Lennon MySpace page). Idea is beautiful piano--maybe approaching Nicky-Hopkins-at-his-best. You're sure to hear Idea threading throughout Friendly Fire, and it's a bit of a thrill to realize how this idea--Idea informs the whole project. Even though we happened on them in the opposite order, we recommend that you listen to the album (yes, we still call them that, and 'records' too) first, because we don't want you to misunderstand and think you'll be able to predict the whole of Friendly Fire from it. Idea is an aspect, not a complete realization, but we think it will enrich your experience with Friendly Fire if you expose yourself to this back story.
Friendly Fire is available now and does not come cheap, but a DVD of shorts which together, as The Booth review explains, "comprise a conceptual film about betrayal and the failure of love," is bundled with it. You get what you pay for and then some. You can view trailers at various sites online, including Capitol Records. Buy it today, or at least give it a listen at The Booth.