Freddy Johnston

Freedy Johnston has always been a master storyteller, spinning simple melodies and well-chosen words to evoke worlds that stretch far beyond the confines of his songs. On his new album, the aptly titled Blue Days, Black Nights, Freedy has honed his uncanny storytelling skill to its finest point yet, with ten songs that are among the most spare, intimate and affecting of his career. From the album title, to the songs, to the artwork, even to the photographs of Freedy himself, the theme here is loneliness in all its desolate, melancholy glory — loss, longing, waiting, isolation, better places imagined.

Over the past decade, Freedy has quietly emerged as one of the most significant songwriters of our generation. He grew up in Kinsley, Kansas, a tiny town located precisely halfway between New York and San Francisco. At 16, he bought his first guitar — by mail order, since there was no music store in town. After several years in Lawrence working at standard struggling-musician odd-jobs, he moved to New York in 1985 to concentrate on his music. Freedy’s 1990 debut on Hoboken’s Bar None Records, The Trouble Tree, got a warm reception from those lucky enough to discover it, especially in Holland, where it spawned a hit single. His second album, 1992’s Can You Fly, was one of that year’s most critically-acclaimed, showing up on year-end best-of lists from coast to coast including Spin, Billboard, People, Musician and The New York Times.

This Perfect World, Johnston’s 1994 Elektra debut, was another big step forward, a lush Butch Vig production that extended his unbroken streak of critical praise and featured his first bona fide U.S. hit, “Bad Reputation.” Rolling Stone named Freedy their songwriter of the year and declared in a four-star review that “Freedy has joined that elite cadre of songwriters — Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Elvis Costello — whose brilliant pop compositions turn magical with the addition of a defiantly idiosyncratic singing voice.” Entertainment Weekly gave the album an “A,” and kind words were to be found as well in People, Musician, The New York Times, Los Angeles Times, San Francisco Chronicle and many more. Several songs from This Perfect World received further exposure in the hit film Kingpin. In 1997, Freedy turned up the volume with the acclaimed Never Home, highlighted by the rocking hit “On The Way Out.” All the while, Freedy toured with such artists as Sheryl Crow, Shawn Colvin, Soul Asylum, The Lemonheads, Matthew Sweet and Cowboy Junkies, among others.

On Blue Days, Black Nights, Freedy turns the volume back down again, with exquisite, delicate melodies and gentle arrangements recorded almost entirely live in the studio. The songs shine light into life’s darker corners, deftly illuminating small but profound moments of loneliness, hurt, alienation and stark clarity. “There is a definite theme of loneliness and sadness to this album,” Freedy explains. “I know I write about those things often, but you’ve got to do what’s in you. My favorite record is Frank Sinatra’s Only The Only, which has the same theme. People respond to sad songs. They’re cathartic — it hurts but it’s good for you. You feel great afterwards.”

As always, Freedy has given his intricate vignettes stunning emotional detail, reaching us in a way few songwriters can. “The Farthest Lights” is the tale of an astronomer who observes sadly that his wife’s eyes have become paler and more distant than anything he looks at in his telescope. “While I Wait For You” tick-tocks through the dragging days of a lover left behind: “And your garden’s dying/And the flowers won’t bloom/And I sit by the window/While I wait for you.” Elsewhere, Freedy muses on a long-ago moment captured in a photograph in “Caught As You Look Away”; meets a former lover in a dream in “Emily”; and shakes his head in helpless frustration at a fickle girlfriend on the album’s wry first single, “Changed Your Mind.”

In the past, Freedy often left blanks in his songs, encouraging different interpretations of the stories themselves. On Blue Days, Black Nights, however, the scenarios are quite concrete. “I wanted to be more specific and clear in these songs,” Freedy explains. “[Producer] T-Bone [Burnett] really pushed me on the lyrics, saying he didn’t get this or that. It was good to be forced to explain myself. The stories may seem simpler, but I don’t think they are. I’m just trying not to be vague.” In the end, what makes Freedy’s songs so effective, so universal, is that they invite us to feel the emotions of his protagonists, to make their stories our stories. “There does have to be some mystery,” he says, “and that’s where it is. Everyone’s interpretations are different. Everyone’s emotions are different.”

The album’s intimate, organic aura is due in large part to the live recording, an idea Freedy credits to producer T-Bone Burnett and co-producer Roger Moutenot. Burnett previously has worked with artists such as Elvis Costello, Counting Crows, The Wallflowers, Los Lobos and Jimmie Dale Gilmore; Moutenot has long been one of the industry’s top engineers. “It was wonderful working with T-Bone and Roger,” Freedy recounts. “They helped me quite a bit, asking me what I wanted to do with the songs, how I wanted them to sound.

“Sinatra died as we were getting started, and we talked about him a lot,” Freedy recounts. “He was one of my favorites, with many of my favorite recordings, which were all done live, of course. T-Bone convinced me to have the faith to try it myself, so we set up in the studio with no isolation for the vocals. It took a lot of takes, but the sound is just so warm, with an energy you can’t match with overdubs. I fixed up a couple of vocals later, but most are live. When I listen to the album, it almost sounds like a gig, with my voice warming up as it progresses.

“I also was reminded that the best music comes from live communication between musicians, playing together in a certain time,” he exclaims. “You can feel it.” Those he communicates with here include Cameron Greider on guitar (“My number two in command,” Freedy says. “His playing makes the songs better, and I’m lucky to have him. I’m hesitant to say too much — he’ll start charging me more!”); legendary drummer Jim Keltner; and bassist Andy Hess.

Freedy acknowledges that it can be daunting to write songs in the shadow of the favorable press he has received over the years, and he admits to being his own harshest critic. “But,” he says with evident satisfaction, “this is my favorite record. I finally got something which I think is very beautiful. It feels very personal, because it sounds more like me than my other albums. When I hear my songs on the radio, it never sounds like my voice to me. This record is a bit rough and unpolished, and it’s me. I can listen to this one at home.”

“You can’t always expect people to come with you from record to record,” he continues, “but at the same time, the power of people to respond to something real can’t be underestimated. I have a belief that people will get it, and I think this album will win me some new fans.

He adds, smiling, “Then, next time, I’ll do something completely different.”