Sometimes he sounds like his dad, which is natural enough. Sometimes he affects the deep-voiced theatricality of the post-punk legion ofDavid Bowie imitators. But, most of all, Julian Lennon sounds here as if he hasn’t an original thought in his head, nor any expressive means that transcend cliche. Producer Patrick Leonard tries to keep it interesting with a host of studio tricks and a small army of supporting players, but all that isn’t worth much if the key songwriter doesn’t dare to imagine. In the course of three albums, Lennon has gone from winsome to forgettable to soporific.