I have a friend that's compiled a list of songs that remind her of being in Pier One Imports. Somewhere on that list, among the inevitable Police and Simply Red tracks, is Julian Lennon's "Too Late for Goodbyes." Poor kid: his father changed rock music forever, and he's just a guy who reminds a friend of mine of some whitebread home decor chain.

This is not to say that I think Julian Lennon's music is due for a re-evaluation. But you have to feel for these kids-- the progeny of musical icons who, for whatever reason, follow in their famous parents' footsteps. I mean, what a crappy way to start a career: defending your work against insane expectations as soon as your first album hits the shelves. Julian probably would've been better off as a dentist, you know, but I'm sure he never felt like he had much of a choice-- raised famous, expected to take over his father's business, and destined to fail. Or at least to achieve a level of success that seems like failure in light of his genealogy.

So, here's Eric Mingus, whose father arguably did for jazz much of what John Lennon did for rock, making a decidedly ill-advised move and releasing an album. What's worse, it's basically a jazz record. And crazier still, the stupid kid goes and plays double-bass on it. Which is just plain asking for it, really.

But he seems to have lucked out in a couple of ways. First of all, a lot of the reviews of Um... Er... Uh... thus far have been written by people largely unaware of just how monumental a figure Charles Mingus was. This is totally out of Eric's control, of course, but it's a dodged bullet nonetheless. More importantly, though, he seems to have actually inherited some of his dad's talent, and to have spent a good deal of time and energy developing it. And somebody in his ancestry left him with the voice of a wayward Baptist preacher: gritty but smooth, soulful but somehow lascivious.

Um... Er... Uh... seems like a pretty straightforward record. Most songs feature a traditional unit of drums, bass, sax and trumpet, with Mingus singing or speaking. The overall feel is loose and improvisational, but rooted in well-charted territory. There's jazz here for sure, but there's also R&B;, acid jazz and gospel. Plus, Eric seems to share his father's penchant for taking vernacular forms and giving them an avant-garde twist. "Romantic Fool," for example, is a straight-up soul slow jam which happens to feature a bass solo that's been so electronically altered that the instrument sounds like a bizarre kazoo. The contributions of electronic artist Mocean Worker help rough things up a little as well, and give the album some unexpected textures.

Mingus' lyrics occasionally grate, falling into the sort of preachy sing-song that mars so much spoken word. But for every cringe, there are enough surprising turns of phrase to balance things out. The excellent "His Blood's in Me"-- set to some Tom Waits-esque noise-mongering-- avoids all the pitfalls and manages to be confrontational and melancholy without becoming ridiculous. "Grey... Was Never So Color... Full..." is what all unaccompanied spoken word should be: rhythmic and inventive, with no trace of college-town coffee house goofiness.

But does Eric live up to his father's standards? Well, of course not. Charles Mingus recorded over a hundred albums, wrote something like 300 original compositions, and played sideman to the greatest jazz musicians the world is likely to ever see. It's crazy to judge this album by those standards. Eric's off to a good start, though. And at the very least, Um... Er... Uh... will never remind anybody of a trip to Pier One.

-Zach Hooker