By: Bob Longmore
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Daniel Johnston - Photo from RejectedUnknown.com
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The movie-screen curtain rose to reveal the stage of First Avenue, bathed in blue light and populated only by abandoned instruments. The crowd, who when the curtain went up, let out a thunderous roar, now quieted themselves. Anticipation for the infamous Daniel Johnston swelled as people shuffled their feet, peering to the side of the stage, waiting for something to happen. Johnston appeared momentarily, then disappeared back down the steps just as quickly, as the crowd, perplexed couldn’t decide what to do. Then, finally, the silver-haired musician, clutching to his chest a volume of notebooks as thick as a dictionary quickly walked to the middle of the stage, keeping his eyes averted from the crowd. He set the volume of notebooks on a sheet-music stand, grabbed his cigar box-sized guitar, and then in his inimitable shaky voice began singing about a lifetime’s worth of broken hearts, wobbly dreams, flirtations with death and his journey back and forth across the line that divides madness and genius.
Like many people I’m sure, I’d heard of Daniel Johnston, but I became hyper-aware of his music and his legend through the 2005 documentary, The Devil and Daniel Johnston. So, to be honest, I came to this concert with a minimal appreciation for his music, but more out of a sense of intrigue. I think, especially having my only real exposure to Johnston from the movie, that to separate the music from the back story of Johnston’s mental illness is impossible.
I was worried that the warbly, ultra lo-fi style of his recordings would mirror that of his stage show, but instead the earnestness that the tape sometimes fails to capture, comes through clear and present on stage. After a few songs playing his tiny guitar, Johnston concentrated on singing as an accompanying guitarist came out and stood by his side. As Johnston sang with his eyes glued to his sheet-music stand, his left fist shook in tiny circles by his side. There was so much emotion in everything that Johnston sang, that it transcended any of the limitations of his fragile, childlike singing voice. He seemed to live the songs as he sang them. I was moved by the rawness of the songs. Suddenly, I got it. I got why people have been praising Johnston as a performer and songwriter since long before the movie came out. The depth of conviction with which Johnston sang even the most awkward of phrases, was enough to make your stomach ripple with empathy.
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| Daniel Johnston - Photo by Adam Bubolz |
The night was definitely not all dourness and gloom though. There is a playfulness in Johnston’s songs and even Johnston himself delivered some comic relief (intentional or not, I don’t know) when he asked the crowd, “What town is this?”
“Memphis? What?”
The audience laughed as Johnston continued, “Oh! I can’t hear you… well we’re here anyway…”
And then later on in the night, “It’s great to be here at Purple Rain, I saw that movie.”
After an acoustic set, Johnston took a break. When he returned, he was backed by a full band, which happened to be Minneapolis’ own Bison Forest. Although the electric set lacked some of the intimacy of the acoustic set, it did not diminish in intensity.
Johnston’s one-song encore consisted of “True Love Will Find You in the End.” It was such a sweet and sad ending to the night—a lullaby to send us out into the cold. This song just broke my heart as Johnston seemed to scream and whisper all in the same breath,
“True love will find you in the end
You’ll find out just who was your friend
Don’t be sad I know you will
But don’t give up until
True love finds you in the end.”
Before Johnston left the stage for good, he asked one more time, “What city is this?” He leaned toward the crowd for a split-second before saying flatly, “Minneapolis.” He gave us all a thumbs-up as a pleased smirk crossed his face and he clutched his lyric sheet to his chest and walked off the stage for the last time.
Location Info:
First Avenue
Artist Info: Daniel Johnston
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