Sean Ono Lennon is carrying a legacy, and he’s doing so with a meticulousness that extends beyond simply preserving the past. As the son of John Lennon and Yoko Ono, he’s become a vital curator of his father’s solo work and Beatles catalog, while simultaneously championing his mother’s often-overlooked artistic contributions. His work isn’t about nostalgia. it’s about recontextualizing a body of work for a new generation, and ensuring that the radical spirit of his parents continues to resonate.
In , Lennon oversaw the release of Power to the People, a box set delving into his parents’ early years in New York City. The collection, featuring 90 previously unreleased tracks, documents a period of intense activism and musical experimentation. It’s a project that reflects Lennon’s broader mission: to present his parents not as icons frozen in time, but as evolving artists deeply engaged with the political and cultural currents of their era.
Lennon’s efforts aren’t limited to archival work. He’s also actively creating new music, both with his band the Claypool Lennon Delirium – whose single “WAP (What a Predicament)” was released in – and through individual projects. This balancing act, between honoring the past and forging his own creative path, is a defining characteristic of his current work.
The approach to these archival projects is far from simple replication. Lennon explained that the design of Power to the People, overseen by Liz Hersch, deliberately departed from the more polished aesthetic of previous releases like the Grammy-winning Mind Games box set. “My parents were in a more minimalist period at that time, going for music stripped-down and raw,” he said. This stylistic choice reflects the shift in his father’s artistic direction, moving away from the ornate production of his early Beatles years towards a more direct and emotionally vulnerable sound.
This deconstruction extends to the very core of the music itself. Lennon sees his father’s collaboration with Yoko Ono as a pivotal moment, a conscious rejection of the “manicured” record-making of the past. “My dad was looking for a new sound, a new philosophy,” he noted, pointing to the rawness of the Plastic Ono Band albums as evidence of this shift. He even suggests that this aesthetic prefigured the punk rock movement, anticipating a cultural desire for authenticity and immediacy.
However, Lennon’s work isn’t solely focused on his father’s legacy. He’s also dedicated to rectifying the historical underestimation of Yoko Ono’s artistic contributions. He highlighted the recent recognition Ono has received – including a Golden Lion Award at the Venice Biennale and an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art – as a long-overdue acknowledgement of her groundbreaking work. He also pointed to the National Music Publishers Association finally giving Ono songwriting credit for “Imagine” as a significant milestone.
Addressing the persistent narrative of Ono as a disruptive force in the Beatles, Lennon offered a nuanced perspective. He acknowledged the lingering “dragon lady” myth but emphasized his mother’s emotional response to decades of misunderstanding and rejection. “It’s better late than never,” he said, reflecting on her recent recognition.
The story of “Imagine” itself is a complex one, and Lennon shed light on his father’s initial reluctance to credit Ono. He attributed this not to misogyny, but to a confluence of factors, including his insecurities about songwriting partnerships and the established publishing structure of the Lennon-McCartney partnership. “It’s to his credit that he eventually owned up to it,” Lennon stated, acknowledging his father’s eventual willingness to acknowledge Ono’s contribution.
Looking at the broader political landscape, Lennon sees striking parallels between the activism of his parents in the late 1960s and the current moment. He noted the similarities between the anti-war protests of that era and contemporary movements, as well as the resurgence of populist leaders. “History doesn’t just repeat itself, it rhymes,” he observed, suggesting that the challenges facing society today echo those of the past.
Central to his parents’ political philosophy was a commitment to non-violence. Lennon highlighted the inclusion of songs like “Angela” (about Angela Davis) and “Sunday Bloody Sunday” in the Power to the People collection as a reminder of this principle. He emphasized their belief in using love and humor as tools for political change, rather than resorting to aggression.
He lamented the absence of a powerful voice like his father’s in today’s political discourse, someone capable of addressing serious issues with both intelligence and charm. “We don’t have a powerful, intellectual political voice like his in the world now,” he said, “able to remain charming, cheeky, friendly, loving, and approachable while dealing with these very serious things in our society.”
Lennon’s work on Some Time in New York City, a particularly raw and politically charged album from his parents’ early years, presented a unique challenge. While acknowledging the album’s rough edges, he saw an opportunity to enhance its sonic quality and bring renewed attention to its message. “To be honest, the record wasn’t well received then, but I don’t think because of its politics,” he said. “Its recording is so raw.”
Lennon’s efforts are driven by a deeply personal connection to his parents’ legacy. He views these projects not just as acts of preservation, but as a form of karmic healing. “What we have is a family project,” he said. “I benefit spiritually from it.”
