I know what you're thinking. First there was the cheesy popcraft of Julian, then came the cutesy annoyance that was Sean, and now, out of nowhere, comes a third Lennon brat convinced he possesses some shred of his father's musical talent. But no, this is not an as-yet-unheard-from member of the Lennon brood: Don Lennon is a longtime Beantown scenester with not a trace of Liverpudlian blood in him, but who still seems to have inherited much of John's sardonic wit. Though his songs can be scathing, Don Lennon's gift is in the ambiguity, subtlety, and irony with which he handles his subjects.

And the subjects covered on Downtown include Lenny Kravitz, Kramer, John Cale, the Boston music scene, gay nightlife, and Dave Matthews-- who enthralls Lennon enough to devote two songs to the ice cream-hawking huckster. On opener "Really Dave Matthews," Lennon sings about gaining acceptance by pretending to be a Matthews fan, and it's both funny and a little sad. On "Matthews Comes Alive," Lennon assumes the role of Dave himself, recounting the band's rise to stardom, from the first nervous gig to playing at the "Earth Day festival" to a level of ubiquity where songs start appearing at "cookouts on Cape Cod" and at "Chili's Bar and Grill." It's scathing without being heavy-handed. After all, the best put-downs are those the person you're putting down only half gets.

"Lenny Kravitz and Lisbon" warns of oversized Lenny concert posters threatening the city, and in a roundabout way, satirizes the false love touring artists show the places they visit. "Gay Fun" is the kind of song that, in lesser hands, might be considered offensive or simply trite, but it's good-natured fun for Lennon. The ballads "Mekons Come to Town" and "The Night Kramer Met Anne" cheekily spin yarns of indie rock icons with overwrought arrangements and the aching sincerity in Lennon's voice.

Musically, Downtown sounds a little like Belle & Sebastian fronted by Bruce McCulloch from "Kids in the Hall." The arrangements are jazzy, light, breezy-- some have a West Coast country rock vibe, while others have a certain baroque touch. Strings, horns, keyboards, and sax (courtesy of Morphine's Dane Colley) make the album varied without sounding forcibly eclectic or random. But the main ingredient holding everything together is Lennon's detached delivery and wide-eyed romanticism-- a formula highly reminiscent of fellow Bostonian Jonathan Richman.

"John Cale" ends the album on beautiful note, with soaring strings and Lennon's most accomplished vocal moment. Richman's influence is heavily apparent as Lennon sings lyrics like, "Fucked up on heroin and speed-- in the back of someone's car-- saying all these nasty things about Lou Reed," and still somehow make it sound like the theme to a children's television show.

It's in this way-- through ambiguity and by not laying all his cards on the table all at once-- that Lennon manages to take a bundle of humorous observations about pop culture figures and raise it above a simple collection of cheap laughs. As long as he doesn't get sued and cave in to cynicism, Don should be the musical Lennon to watch-- even if he never gets to date a member of Cibo Matto.

-Jason Nickey, April 16th, 2002