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Daniel Johnston, Popfest 2007, 40 Watt, 8/11/07

by Gordon Lamb
08/15/2007

Although it would be unfair to attribute the current popularity of Daniel Johnston entirely to the documentary The Devil And Daniel Johnston, a certain amount of truth lies within such attribution. How else to explain a 40 Watt crowd that was well over 600, considering the last time he played Athens, in 1999, he was in the charming, but relatively tiny (and now defunct) High Hat Club? It’s not as if his records started flying off the shelf in the past 8 years. He’s certainly not had a hit record in that time. But, if the notion of slowly spreading legendary status can be applied to the cult of Johnston, an additional 8 years before returning to town certainly hasn’t hurt the cause.

The 40 Watt that night had been baked by the sun all day and then, with hundreds of bodies packed into every corner of the room, was slowly roasting the night away. Even among those who complained loudly of the nearly unbearable heat there was a sense of urgency, necessity and dedication. No matter how uncomfortable we were this show was not going to be missed.

Johnson took the stage alone, at first, playing several songs by himself with his guitar. The roars from the crowd were a mix of appreciation and awe. That is, he was playing quite solidly and coherently, but this was more than entertainment. The mood was practically worshipful. After a few songs he put his guitar down and was joined by another guitarist (whose name I just can’t remember and all inquiries as to his identity have been fruitless for me; Look, just sue me, ok? I was in a Johnston induced trance) and this is when Johnston really started to exit the role of singer/songwriter and turn into Johnston The Performer.

Seeming acutely aware of his performance, not in the sense of having stage fright but in the sense of wanting to put on a good show, Johnston engaged the audience in brief bits of conversation, jokes and other interaction. Finally, local band Caper & The Cookies came up from the back of the stage and remained his backing band for the rest of the night. Having practiced a tight set for a few weeks beforehand, albeit not with Johnston, The Cookies were nervous as hell and it showed in the first few songs. Who wouldn’t be, though, right? This was Daniel Johnston. The star of the night was obviously quite pleased with the musicians provided him, though, and referred to them as Casper & The Bubbles and remarked about how great they were.

In actuality, most of his set remains a blur for me. Although I’m really not one for hero worship or star-fuckery I do find myself prone to bouts of admiration such that it’s impossible for me to remember the details. The experience is of such a total nature that I can’t dissect it. And so it was with Johnston’s show. Watching him play is both exhilarating and time-warping. That is, as happy as I was in the moment I was also thrilled knowing that this would be a good memory, too.

I’ve heard people say, when they speak of Johnston or artists similar to him, that they want to throw away their amplifiers and record on little tape machines and make simple little ditties with lyrics like his. This attitude always confounds me because it’s essentially purposeless. Great art can indeed be simply crafted but it’s never simple minded. The inspiration of Johnston shouldn’t be such that one emulates his style but, rather, follows his lead. His music continues to speak to the idea of seizing life, however unwieldy and uncomfortable (and with however tenuous a grasp), and saying in your own voice “I am here. This is me. This is what I like. This is what I do.” It’s probably supremely arrogant of me to think I’ve found the gospel of Johnston. But, if there is one, this seems as likely as anything to be it.

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