Song, by Toad

I don’t mean to irk the purists in the first sentence, but I am not quite the slavering Daniel Johnston acolyte I might be.  I went because I find his stuff intriguing, because loads of bands I love hold him in such high regard, but largely because I was curious about how someone quite so halting, awkward and, lets face it, weird ended up being such a cult hero for so many people.

I arrived late, due to radio commitments, so I missed pretty much everything up until Laura Marling’s support slot which was… decent.  Whenever I see someone like her who is, if not actually famous at least indie famous, I find myself wondering ‘If I didn’t know who she was and this was the first time I saw her in some ropey club or other, would I be falling over myself to release her records?’  In this case the answer is definitely no.  She seemed nice, she can certainly write a tune, but I am left pretty much entirely unmoved by her music I am afraid, and the solo acoustic setting did nothing much to improve on my impression of the album, which was equally indifferent.

Johnston on the other hand is a different prospect entirely.  He seems comfortable enough in the presence of the crowd, even reassured by it, which is slightly contrary to the (admittedly arbitrary) picture I’d managed to build in my head of him.  The first few songs are just him and an electric ukulele, and I don’t know enough to say for certain, but it seemed very much like he could barely play it.  I don’t know if this is simply a skill he has been unable to acquire despite what must be tons of hours of practise, or whether he’s actually really good and just plays in fumbling style, which I suppose is possible.  It seemed a lot like the former to me though, I have to confess.

These songs, despite the playing, and maybe because of the more basic sound, are the ones I like the most.  There’s something captivating about his stumbling musicianship and uncertain delivery which resonates so perfectly with his lyrics that it makes the songs seem all the more true in this format, something which the more polished band numbers can’t ever quite achieve.

When the Wave Pictures come on to play as Johnston’s backing band the results are a little patchy.  It’s not the fault of the band at all, but I personally just felt that some songs worked better than others, and there were defintely times when the plain vanilla bass and drums simply eroded the individualism of Johnston’s songwriting.  It could be a little smothering, basically.

Then again, maybe that’s how he sees himself.  For someone who seems to utterly disregard most basic songwriting axioms when he sits down to write, the three Beatles covers in this set seem to imply that he does harbour more straighforward pop instincts in there somewhere.  Even with their weird structures, his own songs are often successful because they do still contain a lyric simple yet so honestly, obviously true that it has the same impact as a memorable rhyming couplet.  And for all he can barely play them, he can certainly write guitar hooks.

Maybe that’s why the Beatles covers get such a cheer – maybe that kind of sudden statement of unselfconscious joy is at the heart of his popularity.  It’s a weird kind of shotgun marriage: the awkward, uncomfortable, vulnerability which is broken here and there with the musical equivalent of a sunny smile.  He has the shakes something rotten, and his lyrics are raw and unflinching, and he sounds like his voice will crack at any moment, and yet when he decides to hold a note he obviously can do, and he seems genuinely cheered by the love coming from the crowd.

So for all I don’t know his music that well, I can see from this gig how people get so engrossed in Daniel Johnston.  It really is all just out there for you to see: there seem to be no barriers at all between him and his audience.  And despite the age of Johnston himself, all the awkward but nevertheless very hip teenagers in the Queen’s Hall seem to be beside themselves in rapture.   But I think by the end of the night, that I just about get it. It was an odd gig though – really good, but almost more of a social experience than a musical one in many ways.  For me anyway.  For a good proportion of the people there it was as damn near a religious experience as they are likely to get.

Daniel Johnston – Life in Vain

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Daniel Johnston – True Love Will Find You in the End (His only encore – now that was a privilege!)

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