Customer Reviews

Can You Fly

5 star:		(12)
4 star:		(2)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

I can't believe this record is 18 years old! A lost classic...one of the finest American pop records of the last twenty years...original, dark, and lovely lyrics which vascillate between themes like death and love with effortless elegance...

The fact that Spin picked this as one of the top 100 "alternative" albums of all time gives you an idea of the kind of edge that Freedy brings to the often overly precious genre of "singer-songwriter." Freedy's voice expresses a deep, beautiful soul-ache, and his songs capture the ambiguity of profound emotions like, well, like nobody else. In comparison, the run-of-the mill pop songster seems, basically, dishonest. This is an album for someone who is willing to take a handful of listens before settling into its groove. After that, it's in your head forever.

A lot of reviewers agree that "Can You Fly" is a major piece of work in popular music. I, too, say that. What irritates me is the fact that so many people make such a big deal about the record's first line - "Well I sold the dirt to feed the band". Very clever, to be sure - as everyone knows by now, the line refers to the fact that Freedy Johnston had to sell a portion of his family's farm to stay on the road as a professional musician. All right, all right, we get it, but if it was really that important, don't you think Freedy would have named the album after it? What does that line have to do with the rest of the song, let alone the rest of the album?

If you ask me, that line is a big deal not so much because it's clever or phrased well, but because it sets up an opposition between traditional values and attractive new ones that plays out through many of these songs. What's more, the sound itself adds to that conversation. Freedy's band includes acoustic and electric instruments that sometimes swap lines, and the production puts a lot of space between the players - it sounds like they're playing on a huge prairie under a grey sky, kind of like the one on the album cover and not unlike the farm Freedy sold. Not that any of this is terribly original. Lots of other bands do something similar. This one just does it exceptionally well.

On the other hand, Freedy's voice does not resemble anyone else's. You sometimes hear people talk about singers who put a lot of air into their tone; with Freedy, it's more like he puts a lot of tone into his air. He pitches his melodies pretty high for the most part, sings primarily in head tones, and gives himself a conversational style and Midwestern accent that makes you think of nothing so much as some guy hanging on the front stoop of a hand-built bungalow way out in the middle of Kansas with the nearest town a good ninety miles away. Very traditional-sounding, except when he suddenly snarls "I've got wheels!" and the band gets perilously close to heavy metal. That kind of thing happens in several numbers. Like I said, there's a sort of argument going on here.

Getting back to that first line, a lot of these songs sound a bit autobiographical, although the details can be couched in poetic language. Not too much so - a bit later in that first number, for instance, Freedy retools his central idea as "I sold the dirt for a song". Same idea, different approach, with a bit of a wink in it this time. There are songs about the worry you feel when you come home after hitting the road with a band, songs about tearing down that decrepit old house Grandpa built for Grandma, songs about how it feels when your daughter heads off to the big city. Whichever of these Freedy based on personal experience, he managed to avoid that horrible sense you get with some songwriters that they think their lives should be fascinating to you and me just because they've got a record contract and we don't.

He managed to get around that at least in part by concentrating on actual details rather than on how he feels about them. When he sings about first love in "The Mortician's Daughter", it's mostly about her, or about them, not just about him. Or when he sings about his daughter leaving for school (or something - it's not always easy to tell) in "Responsible", it's mostly about what she's likely to see in New York, not just about him. Not only does that make it unnecessary for us to ask "Why should I care about what Freedy Johnston feels?", it also adds to that tension between excitement and loss that informs the whole album, and that remarkable voice.

Then there's the title cut. Folks, I've been trying to figure out what it means for a long time now, and I'm stumped, but I can't stop listening to it. The melody is spooky but beautiful, the instrumental backing is quieter than just about anything on the record, and it could be about a nightmare or a love affair or an alien, but Freedy took the album's title from it, so it's probably a major idea to him. In any case, he filled the song with muddy, scary imagery, and then sings "We've all been looking at you...Can you fly?" Sounds like a promise of hope, or at least escape.

Or maybe not. You notice that the cover photo, where the title is, shows a woman's body ten or fifteen feet off the barren ground with her head out of frame. She is presumably flying, but when you unfold the CD booklet you notice that there's a tree close by. She may have hung herself - there may be a rope up there that we can't see. That may be what the song is about.

Such self-destruction is certainly one possible way to respond when the old and the new collide, but only one. As I said, others pop up all over this album. It leads to a lot of tension, but it doesn't end that way. Everyone concentrates so hard on the first line that they seem to have missed the last one, which is "We will shine". So that woman on the cover may be a suicide, but one way or the other the album ends with joy.

Benshlomo says, Be kind to both your roots and your branches.

New genre for this: Punk/Singer/Songwriter. I say that because of the great "skinny white kid" vocals. If you've heard a better album in the past 10 years please let me know because I would love to hear it. If you've never heard this one before, it may take a few listens to sink in, but when it does, wow! Just on a pure songwriting level it is awesome, but then add the great playing and singing (caution: you may either love or hate his voice), and it's really something special. As far as the individual songs, it's hard to pick favorites because they're all good (and they don't lose the listener's attention with the dreaded "sound the same"-ness), but here goes: Responsible, Lucky One, Trying To Tell You I Don't Know (a great opener), and The Mortician's Daughter. He has mastered the art of great storytelling in song without giving away too many details, as so many singer/songwriters tend to do. I read that Freedy doesn't like his voice on this album. It is pretty raw at times but perfect for the material.

I found this little gem back in 1993 and was completely stunned by the maturity of the songwriting, the ragged nobility of the voice and the evocative, powerful imagery of the lyrics. This is a MASTERPIECE, one of the few truly great albums of the decade. The catchy Remember Me, California Thing (featured on the Kingpin and Made In America soundtracks...for his sins) and Tearing Down This Place sit perfectly with the poignant ballads The Lucky One, Down In Love and Responsible. Best of all are the classic title track and The Mortician's Daughter, marrying classy songwriting with the best lyrics I've heard in a long time.

"I used to love the mortician's daughter We drew our hearts on the dusty coffin lids," he sings, and I cry...again.

Outstanding.

Particularly recommended to...everyone, but if you like Counting Crows, Wilco, Ron Sexsmith, Matthew Sweet, 10,000 Maniacs et al then it's a must.

Pure pop for my generation. Clean guitars,great hooks and fantastic stories. What else could you ask for, nothing.

I caught Johnston live in 1991 as the opening act for The Chills and walked away with at least three of these tunes permanently burned into my brain. "Can You Fly" is vivid songwriting at its best. What set this LP apart from efforts by Johnston's folk-rock contemporaries and what set it atop so many of the decade's "best of" lists were its lyrics. After all, lots of songwriters can string together a catchy melody and some chords, but how many can pack an avalanche-sized emotional wallop into the few lines that go along with them? Not many, but Johnston does it on every song here and the best songs (especially "Responsible") are almost overpowering. "The streets are slick with dew and motor oil/A girl walks in and out of the morning sun/A barred window reflects the cloudless sky/No blue reaches those eyes" sings Johnston in a voice like a half-strangled plea, backed by the most sympathetic and punchy folk rock arrangements since the heyday of Simon and Garfunkel. This is one of the best releases by anybody anywhere anytime. Johnston, not for a lack of trying, hasn't reached these heights since (though "This Perfect World" came close), but this is achievement enough for one lifetime.

From the achingly beautiful "Mortician's Daughter" to the sheer desperation of "Trying to tell you I don't know," this album evokes every shade of Freedy's rich, expressive emotional palette. With pop hook sensibilities that rival Paul Westerberg and Matthew Sweet, Freedy marries irresistible melodies, sung in a powerfully idiosyncratic voice, with clever, beautifully written lyrics. This is the one "must have" Freedy disc.

This album has stood atop my "If You Were Stranded on a Desert Island and Could Only Have One Album" list for years. Many artists release albums that tell a story, but often the emotion behind the songs is hollow. Not with Freedy--he's a passionate guy, and he's seen his share of hard times, and those hardships are laid bare from the first line of the first song. The musical craftsmanship on this album is stunning.

This album proves that a great songwriter can create a whole world in a two-minute tune. Johnston manages--especially on songs like "Responsible"--to paint a heart-breaking portrait of real people. The kind of insight and poetry one finds in one's favorite writers. If you like great short stories--by anyone--give this a try.