Would you believe that Mike Johnson's new album is a bright and sunny pop confection that will have you singing along full blast with the top down on your way to the beach? Nah, you're not that gullible, are you? The truth is that the man who makes Mark Lanegan seem like the guy wearing a lampshade at the office party (at the firm of Gloom, Doom, and Misery) is back, and he is as somber and unflinchingly dark as ever. This time he is kind of angry, too, instead of hopelessly melancholy. Apart from the distraught beer-in-my-tears ballad "If the World Hadn't Gone Insane," he's also set aside the country influences that permeated his previous work. Gone as well are the orchestral arrangements and wide-screen productions. What remains on Gone Out of Your Mind is a stripped-down, storming guitar record with a decidedly stark view of the politics and morality of the day. The two centerpieces of the album are the blazing cover of Junior Byles' "Fade Away" and "Pass By," both of which feature desperate and searching vocals from Johnson and titanic guitar duels with him and Brett Nelson torching their respective fretboards. The rest of the album is just as desperate and raw. On the uptempo tracks like "On Track Now" and "Can't Get It Right," Johnson and his band, the Evildoers (including Nelson, Jim Roth of Built to Spill on bass, and Jason Albertini on drums), kick up lots of angry dust; on the ballads like "Gone Out of Your Mind" they sound positively wounded and alone. This is not a record for the faint of heart or the easily bruised. Mike Johnson is either one of the most broken men in the musical world or he is a damn fine actor. Either way, this album is a welcome return for an underrated artist who deserves some attention. And one who needs a hug or ten. ~ Tim Sendra, All Music Guide
Although he used to play bass in Dinosaur Jr., Northwest singer/songwriter Mike Johnson has always sounded more like his brothers in melodic melancholia, Mark Eitzel and Mark Lanegan -- or those holy folk ghosts, Nick Drake and Tim Buckley -- than former bandmate J. Mascis (his voice is a lot deeper and steadier). On "Come Back Again," he even rips it up with the same sort of swirling intensity as Lanegan's psych-garage rock combo the Screaming Trees. This shouldn't come as a complete surprise, as Johnson has also played with members of the Screaming Trees in the past (both Lanegan and Barrett Martin). But most of the rest of the songs on What Would You Do, his fourth solo release, are more hushed and slower-paced than that, and producer Phil Ek (Built to Spill, Modest Mouse) has imbued the proceedings with a welcoming warmth and immediacy. It's as if Johnson were whispering rather than singing these sweet somethings in your ear. He can't help but command your attention, encouraging you to listen closely and to step inside his world. It may not be as bright and cheery as some, but everyone is welcome. And if you're into Leonard Cohen, Lee Hazlewood, and Charlie Rich, well, he just may let you stay later and longer than the rest. ~ Kathleen C. Fennessy, All Music Guide
"They say I should've known that I'd end up alone," ex-Dinosaur Jr. member Mike Johnson sings on the achingly beautiful and sarcastically titled I Feel Alright. It's a defeated and numb statement, but it's also the most typical sentiment found on Johnson's latest collection of melancholia, misery, and countrified blues. Singing with a basement baritone that immediately recalls Mark Lanegan, Johnson's songs come off as desperate juke-joint lovers' laments. Songs like "Turn Around," "One Liner," and "A Message to Pretty" are unnerving in their emotional honesty, and when silver-voiced Tiffany Anders joins him on the album's heartbreaking highlights, "I Don't Love You" and "I've Got to Have You," the effect is startlingly touching. Don't expect to find a pick-me-up on I Feel Alright, but for listeners who look to the bleakest musicians in their record collections when they're down and downtrodden, look no further than Mike Johnson. ~ Jimmy Draper, All Music Guide
Johnson's second solo album is a total treat -- anyone who loves Mark Lanegan's solo work or the Walkabouts will find something really grand here. With his then-Dinosaur Jr. employer J Mascis doing a fine job on the drums, playing with brushes as skillfully as with sticks, and a rotating crew of supporting players on other instruments, Johnson lives up to his bold but straightforward album dedication to Charlie Rich. There's plenty of slow, exquisitely sorrowful country-tinged misery here, too gently pretty in its melancholy to pander to the freaked-out/f*cked-up wing of alt-country, all too out of place to score anywhere with Nashville's cult of the hat in the '90s. So it was as it remains: a low-key, undiscovered gem. Even the seemingly more upbeat (musically, at least) songs like "One Way Out" have a gauzy, sweetly sad overlay, intensified by Johnson's own talents. Johnson's singing voice doesn't quite have the wrecked glory of Lanegan -- if anything, it suggests a slightly more tuneful Calvin Johnson or a cousin of Stephin Merritt. The comparison to the Magnetic Fields' lead man makes even more sense when one can hear how Johnson lets his voice slide into the mix, rarely taking a more demonstrative tack. Sometimes the arrangements, while not overly busy (this isn't Phil Spector or Jimmy Reed here) can obscure the qualities of the songs, so the more stripped-down arrangements on the first part of "Way It Will Be/Too Far" and "Hold the Reins" are nice variations. There's even some full-on rock roar on songs like "Circle" and "Say It's So." The second part of "Way It Will Be/Too Far" blasts to life and takes everyone with it, but Johnson stays his restrained, almost sepulchral self throughout. ~ Ned Raggett, All Music Guide