Customer Reviews

Legend of Vernon Mcalister

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Johnson has a very rich imagination when it comes to solo guitar, and a technique that lets him explore his every idea. I'd found his music intriguing in the past, but this album really cemented his appeal to me.

"The Legend of Vernon McAllister" doesn't have the pure fire and amazing technique of some of Johnson's earlier work, but I think it's a lot musical in many ways. Metal bodied resophonic guitars have a echo-y, haunting sound that demands a more nuanced approach; you want to spreaed the notes out and let them ring, and Johnson takes full advantage of this.

In place of the rapid-fire tapped runs in his earlier work he presents the listenier with some languid, melodic lines that create an entirely different feel and ambiance. Listening to this album, you can close your eyes, and find yourself sitting on the front porch on a warm day, with a breeze gently passing by, and Vernon McAllister playing his plaintive songs.

Broken prairie dreams for our broken time. Exquisite, adventurous, heartbreakingly beautiful, this album is also like a one-man "basement tapes" -- a field recording from outside the Matrix. Fans of Steve Tibbetts, Michael Hedges, Crazy Horse, and Ralph Towner should definitely check this. The whole "legend" thing is a little corny, but the story behind this obviously haunted instrument is cute, and Johnson makes his rusty axe sing like barbed wire with a fever. A modern landmark pointing down old Highway 61.

Having been a fan of Richard Leo Johnson for several years, I anxiously awaited the release of this work, which I understood to be a departure. I think the concept is just wonderful - creating a story and soundtrack to build a person from the name scratched in that old guitar.

Although Richard's playing has come to be synonymous with Olympian Guitar Gymnastics, this recording finds him in a quieter frame of mind, listening to what this old guitar has to say and letting it have center stage. It sounds to me like this is an artist having a blast experimenting with this tool - bowing it with the bow from a cello, using an Ebow, banging on it with pencils, recording and playing it back backwards, finding his "inner Vernon McAlister" and creating out of those magical moments. Some of the pieces are almost disturbing, but most of them are heartbreakingly beautiful. I love The Front Porch Faces Sunset and Everything Is Beautiful and Sad especially - well today anyway, this is one of those recordings that will likely produce a new favorite every day. Ok, see right now I just got to More Than All the Stars in the Sky and suddenly that's my favorite.

Well done, Richard - I can't wait to hear what's next.

Richard Leo Johnson's first couple albums ("Fingertip Ship," 1998 and "Language," 2000) were both flash outings full of alternate playing techniques and guitar histrionics. He was definitely in that small club of guitarists (Preston Reed, Billy McLaughlin, bassist Stuart Hamm and a few others) who were trying to out-Leo Leo Kottke. His records showed astonishing musicianship.

After a long break, his 2004 Cuneiform disc "Poetry of Appliance" was a major shift for him, utilizing violin, wind synthesizer and (mostly) acoustic guitar in a mix of folkish/Mahavishnuish/Oregonish trios. It sounded nothing like his earlier albums (for better or worse) -- although the result sounded to me like a hiking party in search of a destination.

So it was with some trepidation that I approached "Vernon McAlister." Afterall this is a solo National steel guitar album, on an instrument from the 1930s inscribed with the previous owner's name (the mysterious McAlister). Essentially Johnson "channels" the 1930s here, playing 85% straightforward folk in a style closer to Bukka White or Tampa Red than his previous incarnations.

The other 15% overdubs sustained notes or non-standard sounds derived from the instrument, although there's nothing here that couldn't have been produced 70 years ago (and probably was, by the endlessly-inventive Mr. White).

As a folk guitar record it's pleasant and low-key, not at all flash or outlandish. But for Richard this represents something of a retreat: into the past, into more traditional styles, into imagined quieter times he can only have read about.