Yes, he sounds and often thinks like his father. That's probably what accounts for Julian Lennon's label push and radio exposure. What's ironic is that Valotte, the debut album of a familiar sort of singer/songwriter, is exciting and irritating in just the ways debut records used to be – back in the days when raw talent was more frequently let through without being lawyered, A&Red and marketed into freeze-dried format fodder.

His best song is "Too Late for Goodbyes," a sexy techno reggae that should be a hit in America. It shows that Julian's heritage is the post-Beatles Lennon of "(Just Like) Starting Over" or "Jealous Guy." "Let Me Be," come to think of it, sounds more like John's Seventies pal Harry Nilsson. There are no traces of Plastic Ono anger, only the wistful amusement of the Dakota days.

That's the essential strangeness of Valotte: a middle-aged sensibility, reinforced by Phil Ramone's elegant but often stodgy production, applied to unashamedly youthful themes. If "O.K. for You" and "On the Phone" are callow plaints, the title song is a neat piece of wheel watching. And "Well I Don't Know" is a dry, astoundingly poised song addressed to the elder Lennon. Julian embraces John's memory, legacy and independence all at once: the son, like the father, is no sentimentalist. We have an interesting new voice to listen for. (RS 439)

DAVITT SIGERSON