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A labour of love >> Sean Lennon tests positive with his album Into the Sun by RUPERT BOTTENBERG
"I guess the situation here works," he says, "because it's like one cartoonist works in watercolour and the other does computer animation--the way we work is different. Also, her level of experience was so much greater than mine that I was like her apprentice in a way." It's a neat balance they've struck. Given the urbane groove of her band, Tokyo-cum-NYC food-hop operation Cibo Matto, you know she's at home in a cluttered studio full of knobs to turn and buttons to push. Given the songs on Into the Sun, you know Lennon's more at home strumming a battered acoustic guitar on his futon couch. The album's all that and a good bit more. Besides the warm 'n' fuzzy folk-pop and the mellow-tronic tweaks and twists, Into the Sun boasts touches of krauty space rock, kooky country twang, sludgy grunge (who remembers Cibo Matto's crack at "Black Hole Sun" last year?) and a bit of Beach Boys to boot. And Braziliana and even jazz, though Lennon expresses little patience with the rules and regulations that the jazz elite impose. Lennon met Honda when she did a remix for his mother, Yoko Ono, a few years back. Before you knew it, he was playing bass for Cibo Matto, effectively the duo of Honda and her friend Miho Hatori. Yeah, that was him up there when CM played Cabaret last year (and Russell Simmins of Jon Spencer Blues Explosion clubbing the skins). But now she's backing him up. Honda walked Lennon through every step of making Into the Sun, his debut on the Beastie Boys' label Grand Royal. From preproduction through recording right down to mixing, Honda was there giving not just technical advice but a sympathetic ear, a sounding board, a mirror. "It was actually perfect, the situation was almost ideal. I was able to open up to her so much musically, because she's my girlfriend. Whereas with another producer, I might be shy about certain things. But with her, I really dug in deep." There's no irony in Lennon's voice when he rambles on about true love, happiness and stuff of that nature. There's no irony in the sweet little sketches that litter the liner notes of Into the Sun, coloured-pencil quickies of Honda, himself, his friends. There's no irony behind the big, goofy smile pasted on Lennon's face on the cover of the album. And in these jaded days, that's precisely the point. "My whole musical statement is a little bit reactionary against modern music. I think it's a little misunderstood, which is fine, I guess. But the reaction hasn't been exactly what I hoped." Unfortunately for Lennon, he's stuck between a rock and a hard place: older listeners will immediately try to draw comparisons to his father (that guy from the Beatles). Younger listeners will want to know where he's hidden the streetwise sass that should theoretically come with the Grand Royal tag and the Beasties association. No dice on both counts. "People think that I'm somehow cheesy or something, but they don't understand that I'm actually doing it on purpose. I mean, I listen to Slayer. People don't really know me yet. In the future they will, but at this point nobody knows how to interpret me." And that's where the inevitable irony comes in. Because what Lennon does is about as barefaced, honest and straightforward as it gets. The closest parallel this writer can draw is minimalist minstrel Jonathan Richman (who, i-rooooon-ically, Lennon's never heard of). Like Richman, Lennon's game is to completely eradicate any element of pomp, pretension and flatout falsehood from pop rock. Keeping it real, in the realest sense. And if it makes people squirm with embarrassment, so be it. "I think people get uncomfortable with it. But being positive and optimistic is something that's a conscious effort for me, because I believe we all have a responsibility to be positive. In order to make the world positive. I know that's a little idealistic, but that's how I feel." That's really sweet... and I write that without a trace of irony. Sean Lennon plays Cabaret on Monday, July 13, 8:30pm, $12.50+taxes
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Sean Lennon's got it good. I know I myself could never even date another cartoonist, and here he's gone and done an entire album with the love of his life, Cibo Matto's Yuka Honda. And an intensely personal album at that, a scrapbook of the small talk of two nice kids in love.