I count down the days to a new Freedy Johnston record like I used to anticipate releases from the likes of Marshall Crenshaw, XTC, and even Macca back in the 1970s. You kinda know what’s coming – solidly melodic and carefully crafted songs – but the delight is in where he takes it this time. After 24 hours of constantly playing the new album I can reveal that with Back On The Road To You Johnston has done it again. Now at this point scribes usually say things like ‘this is Johnston’s strongest effort in years’ but, hey, the quality of this artist’s work has never really flagged, even if public interest sometimes has. Johnston is like a half buried national treasure, feted by the music mainstream whenever they happen to stumble across a new recording. Stylistically the new LP falls somewhere between Nick Lowe and John Hiatt, with the former’s ear for hooky tunes and the latter’s eye for idiosyncratic narrative detail. But, then again, Johnston’s not really like anyone else. His songs develop in wonderfully unusual ways, his vocals pause in delightfully awkward places. I mean, just listen to how he tucks the ‘living the dream’ line into the pause before launching into the chorus of “There Goes a Brooklyn Girl.” The guy’s got a painter’s precision in detailing his songs.
The record opens on familiar ground with title track “Back on the Road to You.” Is this poppy Americana or just something offered up from Freedy Johnston central casting? Love the electric piano break. One could easily imagine the Everly Brothers ripping through this one. Then there’s “There Goes a Brooklyn Girl,” a song that conjures up terms like ‘instant classic’. The track surely joins the pantheon of Johnston’s most celebrated singles, its construction and execution simply confirmation of his mastery of the popular song form. Another immediate ‘instant replay’ tune is “Madeline’s Eye” with its subtle hooks and alluring steel guitar work. On three songs Johnston brings in some featured vocal accompaniment but the results hardly amount to any kind of star turn. Instead Aimee Mann, Susan Cowsill and Susanna Hoffs apply their impressive vocal talents to deftly serve the tunes, adding subtle harmonies on the countryfied “Darlin’,” the more poprocking “The Power of Love,” and the lilting midtempo ballad “That’s Life” respectively. Things rock up on “Tryin’ to Move On” with its more Dave Edmunds boogie feel. Meanwhile “Somewhere Love” creates a 1970s soft rock ambience, like a stroll along the beach accompanied by a Neal Sedaka song. But the strings that come in at the one and half minute mark elevate the proceedings, adding an exquisite splash of classy sophistication. And the spacey keyboards that define the instrumental break don’t hurt either. “Trick of the Light” has this sunny 1970s summer ballad feel as well. The album closes with the suitably ‘end of a night of drinking’ song “The I Really Miss Ya Blues.” It’s a lovely tune made even more impressive by its inspired organ swells.
The stars have aligned on Back On The Road To You. The album looks good with its smartly designed cover and what’s inside is a typical demonstration of Freedy Johnston’s considerable skills as a songwriter and performer. Buy this album and see this performer live. He may just be one of the last greats of this genre.
I was running down my usual jogging route when Freedy Johnston’s “Anyone” came on the playlist from his 2001 release, Right Between the Promises. I was struck by the enduring freshness of a formula Johnston has consistently utilized since his breakthrough albums, 1992’s Can You Fly and 1994’s Perfect World, particularly on what probably amounts to his most famous quartet of songs: “Tearing Down This Place,” “The Lucky One,” “Bad Reputation,” and “This Perfect World.” Combining Nick Lowe pop hooks with the lyrical ennui of Leonard Cohen, he’s everybody’s favourite melodic sad sack. Yet like so many gifted troubadours (Randy Newman, Elvis Costello, John Hiatt, etc.) his initial brush with stardom appeared to stall with the new millennium. But you can’t blame that on the music. Albums of new material in 2001, 2010 and 2015 were as good as anything he’d ever released – maybe better!
Right Between the Promises makes the case with such killer, single-oriented cuts as “Broken Mirror” and “Anyone,” or the more American songbook feel of “Radio for Heartache” and “Save Yourself, City Girl.” It was a long nine years for a follow up but 2010’s Rain on the City was worth it, chock full of strong material like the toe-tapping “It’s Gonna Come Back to You” or the more western rock and roll feel of “Living Too Close to Rio Grande.” There’s some truly classic Freedy songwriting here on tracks like “Don’t Fall in Love with a Pretty Girl,” “Venus is her Name,” and “The Other Side of Love.” Five years later he was back with another fabulous album, Neon Repairman. Opening cut “Baby, Baby Come Home” is on par with any of Johnston’s great songs for it’s aching lyric content and subtle hooks while the rest of album showcases his unique observational talents on tracks like “TV in My Arms,” “By the Broke Streetlight,” and “Sentimental Heart.”
I don’t often get to use a word like ‘redux’ but when I do it’s definitely for collections like this. In Songs, Bond Songs: The Music of 007 twenty-five artists ‘restore, bring back’ and ‘present in a new way’ the entire canon of theme songs from the James Bond movies, with an accent on indie, poprock treatments. Why bother, you might ask? Well the Bond canon is unique in so many ways. The quality of the songs stretching over a half century is surprisingly strong and consistent. And, as is apparent from the performances on this record, they are open to broad and varied re-interpretations. Some performances here are fairly safe and unremarkable but most try to do something original with the basic raw material of their specific Bond song. I won’t comment on everything but rather just highlight what I think are the more unique, sometimes daring, and ultimately single-worthy remakes from the collection.
Poprock Record 