“You know I’ve got a bad reputation/ And it isn’t just talk, talk,talk”. Sound familiar? Yes, that may be a testament to your personal life, but these are also the opening lines to Freedy Johnston’s hit single “Bad Reputation”, a radio favorite of mine from back when terrestrial radio still had more than 2 stations for me to choose from in ’94.
Even though I was a gritty kid in a dirty flannel and overpriced band T-Shirt from the mall (hey, I started out a suburban poseur like all the rest of you—admit it—none of us were born cool and you have the NKOTB bed sheets to prove it), who was listening to GRUNGE (how dated and inaccurate a term!), Mr. Johnston’s acoustic guitar and heart-string tugging melody caught my aural attention with that simple and strong confession of a song.
Johnston grew up in a small town in Kansas, and I suspect he had a similar situation there to this musician’s in my small town. There’s something universal about the tranquil but crushing existence of suburban life during adolescent development. Since the early 50’s groups like The Monkees have been documenting this strange combination ( Another Pleasant Valley Sunday, anyone?) of picture -perfect and quietly desperate life. When there’s not a whole lot to do besides be on the football team or get a ride to the mall, those of us who didn’t quite fit that demographic, who define authentic experience in a different way, decided to hole up listening to music.
When Freedy got his hands on Elvis Costello’s My Aim Is True, it was a message from a world beyond that small town in Kansas. Listening to music turned into covering songs he loved; covering songs turned into writing his own. And pretty soon Johnston pawned away his favorite guitar to do something a lot of us don’t have the guts to do: bet it all on a feeling, that armed with the sound he had created there was a possibility to live on his own terms. That bet landed Johnston in New York City, and he hasn’t looked back ever since.
Through the past decade and a half, Johnston has artfully managed a career built on that signature sound. His talent is immediately recognizable in an effortless way, and his classic-yet-contemporary stylings recall not only contemporaries like Buffalo Tom, but broadly love arists like Tom Petty, too.
We’re lucky enough to have Freedy come to one of AP’s most intimate and frequented rock institutions, The Saint. Scott Stamper runs the iconic establishment and this promoter has an eye for catching talent before the masses do. Acts like Jeff Buckley and Cake have all come through this magical room on their rise to fame, and it’s rare that concert goers get to see such great acts in such an intimate setting.
I’ll be there on Saturday, April 16th to see Freedy live. And when he sings
Don’t you think I’ve heard the talk?
Nobody’s going to tell me who to love
Been breaking down
Do you want me now?
Do you want me now?
I’ll be singing right along with him.
XOXO
Ang
