Experimental, low-fi artist Daniel Johnston passed away last week. His music was a deep exploration of self, the dark side of life, quirky characters, and just downright silly stories. Johnston was most active throughout the 1980s and ‘90s but progressed into the 2000s as well. He struggled with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder and was never overly popular in the mainstream, but rather was more well-known in the underground scene. Johnston was best known for his talk-singing folk songs often recorded out of his own home. Most of his songs are compilations of him playing either warm or frantic piano chomps (often jumping both in the same track), random sounds that come from who-knows-what, phone and out-of-context conversations, and family arguments (including recordings of his mother yelling at him).
What’s most touching about his music is the rawness in his sound and the deeply personal lyrics. I couldn’t really choose what album to review in response to his passing, so I thought a celebration of all his works would be most suitable. There’s a clear progression throughout his music over the years, but it always retained a strong dichotomy of light and dark. When Johnston was on the upswing so was his music. He was a man full of love and compassion, heavy with feeling, often contemplative of God, and aware of the world around him. His early albums consisted mostly of piano and low-quality recordings, but as he aged, he began incorporating drums, horns, keyboard, guitar, violin, and other string instruments, and the quality of production improved (as much as it can for low-fi). Johnston, even as he aged, always had a distinct sound to his voice. He never sold out, became truly mainstream, or altered his sound to accommodate listeners. He was Daniel Johnston, straight through to the end.
Most of his music explores concepts of love, self-loathing, and never quite living up to expectations, portrayed well in the lyrics of “My Yoke is Heavy”: “Somewhat disturbing is the sound of birds singing / When you know you don’t deserve it.” Johnston’s songs often feature themes of longing as can be seen in “An Idiot’s End”: “I could catch her standing naked / I could catch her cold / I could catch her breath and bottle it / But I could never catch her off guard.” Johnston still held on to a strong sense of humour, though, shining through in tracks such as “Walking the Cow,” “The Goat Show,” and “Harley Man,” but these songs always carried something heavier beneath the surface, even when they made you laugh or smile. The albums “Songs of Pain” and “Don’t Be Scared” are sadder, while “Hi, How Are You” is more fun, energetic, and quirky.
Whatever the mood, Johnston’s music will always be a timeless classic worth revisiting. It’s relatable because of its imperfection, because he lost tempo occasionally, because his singing wasn’t in tune, because there was minimal production and fine-tuning involved, because it was purely him. His music might make you sad, but if you like sad music it may be for you. I only hope that Johnston was able to experience a bit of happiness before his life on this earth ended; he deserved it. Rest in peace, sweet, sad boy. We love you.
Darien Johnsen is a UFV alumni who obtained her Bachelor of Arts degree with double extended minors in Global Development Studies and Sociology in 2020. She started writing for The Cascade in 2018, taking on the role of features editor shortly after. She’s passionate about justice, sustainable development, and education.
