Smith's Olde Bar
April 3, 2007
It's always frustrating to be among a crowd of people in search of the impossible. Musician Sean Lennon claims, and reasonably so, that he doesn't know a world in which people aren't obsessed with his parents. So one hopes for his sake that, after releasing two albums on his own as well as collaborating with many of his peers, he isn't too annoyed at being denied the right to develop a fan base or earn popularity on his own terms. Of course, everyone attending his show this past Tuesday could simply have been rabid fans of his sophomore effort, Friendly Fire, but unless I've seriously underestimated the popularity of woozy indie pop amongst the baby boomer population, there were a lot of Beatle freaks in the house, hoping to breathe in the aura of their departed hero. (If any Yoko enthusiasts other than myself were in attendance, they remained incognito.)
Despite the demographic on hand, openers Women and Children seemed unfazed, and eager to entertain the sizable gathering. (Kamila Thompson, daughter of noted musicians Richard and Linda, kicked off the evening, but a bit too early for some of us to experience it.) Segueing effortlessly from hippie death blues to country-folk and any other tangent that pleased them, the core trio (at times joined by a drummer) kept things earthy, employing piano, violin and a hint of rural twang despite the L.A. pedigree of most members (pure-voiced singer Cheryl June Serwa hails from Manitoba, Canada). The crowd was rowdy, restless and perhaps not entirely invested in the performance before them, but this was their loss. Women and Children handled themselves with grace, and had a vinyl/DVD boxed set for sale at the merch table, which is nothing if not ambitious.
Lennon took the stage after 30 minutes or so to an uncomfortably packed house, who were suddenly all ears. Full of laid-back cheer, he repeatedly noted the "good vibes" in the Atlanta air and reminisced about lugging equipment up the Smith's stairs in his Cibo Matto days. Still collaborating with Yuka Honda, who served as keyboardist, Lennon and company performed the entire Friendly Fire album, along with a handful of other numbers. The set contained understated folk rock (the layered, wistful "Dead Meat"), the dripping-with-melody "Parachute," and at least one number that was undeniably Beatle-esque in its rhythm and phrasing ("Wait for Me"). Midway through the evening, Lennon let loose on guitar, accompanying his band on some extended jams that dipped into psychedelic riches while nonetheless remaining sharp and melodic.
The warm, personal atmosphere that Lennon invited was a suitable backdrop for his intimate recent material, but also achieved a comfort level that allowed for a lighthearted rapport with the crowd (having skipped over bassist Brad Albetta during band introductions, he mentioned him incessantly thereafter). It seems fitting, then, that he closed with a simple rendition of Into the Sun's "Mystery Juice." A snippet of sweet pop psychedelia, it beamed Atlanta's good vibes right back on itself.
- Photos and text by Amanda Langston
Sean Lennon
Women and Children
Kamila Thompson