In Between Dreams

Here are a few factoids about surfer/singer/songwriter Jack Johnson you may or may not already know: Johnson collects acoustic guitars but has played the same Ibanez, which he named ‘Mandela,’ for over a decade now. Johnson has put most of his female friends onto imported beer, but refuses to drink soda in fear of what the acids will do to his body. Johnson also spends very little time in the restroom, monitors his fiber intake and occasionally likes a long bath. He readily quotes James Taylor and Jackson Browne but is always curious about what his peers are listening to, be it Jadakiss or M.Ward. Nature’s cool. Johnson treats the ladies in his life better than he treats himself; he treats his fans and friends with the same grace. Especially his buddies. 

Jack cuts his own hair, shaves daily, gave up skateboarding when he briefly lost his health insurance during his 20s. Jack doesn’t get the munchies, but most of his friends do. Jack “eats to live” yet can’t help but get excited when the word “cake” is involved; pancakes and cheesecakes are especially good when his friends have the munchies. He lets his good buddies work in his studio and design his concert shirts; he pays them more than they deserve. Jack never thought much of anything that Kafka or Burroughs wrote, but oddly loves Kerouac, and of course, J.D. Salinger. He also hopes to befriend Nick Hornby very soon. Jack thinks Woody Allen is just “okay” but thinks Richard Linklater is really good, especially Waking Life, Before Sunrise/Sunset and Dazed and Confused. He still hasn’t seen Slacker but plans to soon.

I’m assuming that you’ve already realized that I made a good portion of that up. In fact, I think I made it all up, although the bulk of Jack’s lyrics paint him as a lucid, honorable, loving man who places a great deal of value on his family and friends, just as I did above. While most songwriters seem to run around the world negotiating experience and, let’s face it, longing for superfluous drama, Jack sticks mostly to the life he knows and loves. Jack is happy hanging out at the beach with people he’s known his whole life. He has a community that has always supported him, and in it he finds inspiration for his art. His third album, In Between Dreams, further cements his place as (not quite) the new Jimmy Buffett, but something along those lines.

Like Buffett, Johnson’s lyrics are very straight-forward which, to some is beautiful and moving, to others unnecessary and trite. With lyrics like, “telephone is ringing, it’s too early, don’t pick it up. We don’t need to. We got everything we need right here and everything we need is enough,” Johnson shows little faith in his listeners.

Nonetheless, I can imagine dorm rooms all over the country right now, spreading the good surfer word; “where’d all the good people go? They got this and that with a rattle a tat. Testing one, two, man whatcha gonna do. Bad news misused, got too much to lose. Give me some truth.” I’m pretty sure that has something to do with poor media coverage of the war, but, really, I was too confused by the “rattle a tat.” I’m not a surfer, so,who knows, maybe that’s everyday banter when you’re riding waves and sipping Coronas.

Similar artist and Johnson-buddy, Ben Harper, was for the later part of my teens my own personal musical god. I went to his shows, got my picture taken with him, traded for bootlegs, hung massive posters on my walls, went to message boards, etc, etc. Through Harper’s website I heard about Johnson’s Brushfire Fairytales debut album before it was to be released. I rushed out the day it came out; after all, it was produced by long-time Harper collaborator JP Plunier, and featured Harper’s signature Weissenborn guitar playing on at least one track. After two listens I wrote the album off as a Harper rip-off and swore off Johnson’s music forever. A few years later a co-worker of mine regularly played Jack’s second album, On and On, which I grew to love, despite its ridiculous lyrics (“hallelujah zig-zag nothin’”).

When I learned that Johnson had a third album coming out in 2005, I surprised myself by seeking it out and eventually (gasp!) purchasing it. The lyrics, naturally, are still ludicrous; the music, although distinct to Johnson, is as unwavering as ever. As for said “unwavering” music, sometimes there’s a reggae rhythm, but mostly, Johnson loves to play sweet acoustic melodies backed by bongos, slight keys and a pliant rhythm section.

Despite all the jokes and fault-finding, keep in mind, I did buy the album. Not only did I spend my money on it, but I’m still listening to it weeks after it’s release. For some reason, me and Jack, we’re buddies. Not drinkin’ buddies, not surfin’ buddies, just buddies. With his blend of honest, laid-back acoustic rock, Jack Johnson strangely does it for me. That’s about all I feel comfortable giving him at this point. I get the feeling that he’d be just fine with that.     8/10

Written by G. William Locke