Published on Jun 2, 2003
I am one of those occasionally-bitter skeptics who’s actually a
closet idealist. I want to believe; I just have to get my inner
wise guy to shut up long enough to let me.
So when a guitar-toting surfer-dude like Jack Johnson happens
onto the scene, I am torn by opposing influences; half of me wants
to give props to the guy’s stripped-down sound and campfire
philosophizing, and the other half wants to smash his freaking
guitar against a wall a la
Animal House and keep walking.
(Aside to Jack: Not to worry, I leave the guitar-smashing to
professionals.)
Funny thing, though. As prepared as I was to loathe this album
for all sorts of reasons — Johnson’s musical origins as a
competitive surfer who dabbles in songwriting, the determined
earthiness of this album’s packaging, his “cult” status among
certain hipper-than-thou music fans — I find myself grooving on it
again and again. It’s spare and simple and the lyrics veer between
clever and too-precious, but overall
On And On is a very enjoyable way to spend 60 minutes.
One of the charms here is the fact that Johnson doesn’t try to
overreach. Yes, he tackles a reggae shuffle on “The Horizon Has
Been Defeated,” and brings more than a little hip-hop emceeing into
his delivery of songs like “Taylor” and the title track. And truly,
some of these songs are little more than fragments — where’s the
rest of “Cupid,” which consists of two spare verses closing out in
just 1:06?
But Johnson knows his strengths and largely sticks to them. The
core of this album is a series of clean, well-crafted tracks that
focus entirely on his adroit acoustic guitar playing and the
ever-earnest lyrics of tracks like the anti-industrial “Traffic In
The Sky” and the anti-materialist “Gone.” The trick is how Johnson
manages to infuse these songs with a distinct political perspective
without sacrificing melody or entertainment value. You nod and
smile, it’s all so organic and disarmingly sincere… and then
you want some more.
Sometimes the rhymes dance right up to the edge of silliness —
“such a tough enchilada filled up with nada / giving what she gotta
give to get a dollar bill” — but Johnson’s confident delivery
manages to make even his most outlandish creations feel right
somehow. He also conjures up a number of images — mostly involving
nature and the elements — that are both insightful and striking.
Example: “there were so many fewer questions / when stars were
still just the holes to heaven.”
While there were times listening to this album when I felt
almost like the rube getting conned by the sweet-talking musician,
I was ultimately seduced by it. It’s simple, it’s sweet, it’s
sincere, and damn if my closet idealist doesn’t think it might just
be the kind of thing this cold, cynical world needs more of.