Everyone, and friends and family / Saying, “Hey! Get a job!” / “Why do you only do that only? / “Why are you so odd?”
“We don't really like what you do / We don't think anyone ever will / It's a problem that you have / And this problem's made you ill.”
The Story Of An Artist
It is difficult to tell the story of Daniel Johnston and overlook the hardships he endured in developing his career due to his intermittent hospitalizations and health problems. Born into a large family in West Virginia with deep Christian roots, Daniel was the youngest of five siblings. From a very young age he stood out for his creative character and his love of art, especially music and graphic expression, shooting home movies on Super 8 or simply drawing. But these abilities set him at odds with his family. While Dan locked himself in the basement of the family home in New Cumberland to draw or bang on the piano, he endured constant affronts, especially from his mother, who day after day accused him of being lazy and of trying to corrupt his peers with satanic ideas and drawings.
In this hostile environment, Daniel grew up labeled as an outsider and weird—labels that would follow him throughout his life. He never questioned how something was done; he simply sat down and did it. Thus, starting in 1980, he began recording his first “self-released” (a generous term) cassettes, which he later distributed among friends and local stores. He wanted to be famous like The Beatles, but he handed them out one by one with the sole intention that the recipient would listen to his songs and appreciate them. After dropping out of college twice—caused, according to his father, by depression and homesickness—Daniel joined a traveling carnival, eventually landing in Austin, Texas. There, he found a new home after being beaten up by a carnival worker and seeking comfort in a local church.
By 1984, Daniel had already recorded some of his “classic” cassettes, such as Yip Jump Music (1983) and Hi, How Are You (1983) (cassettes available on streaming platforms), and prominent figures from the local scene received the tapes with such disbelief that it was as if “Bob Dylan or Robert Johnson handed you their first songs and said: – Here, hope you you like them”. These were always home recordings, where the urge to create outweighed technique and resources. Covers illustrated by himself in his distinctive style and an endless manual labor of copying tapes—or even recording an entire cassette from scratch, song by song, when he lacked a second recorder. His usual recording “studio” at the time consisted of his nephew’s toy organ and a tape recorder set up on a weight bench.
In the ever-vibrant Austin scene, word of mouth began to spread, and everyone wondered who the author of the cassettes was. His fragile, sometimes naïve music, his trembling voice, and his personal sense of rhythm gave new meaning to the term lo-fi. Above all, the essential trait of Daniel Johnston’s songs shone through: the description of the most complex emotions—heartbreak, loneliness in a world where he did not fit, real or imagined demons—in such a crystalline and primitive way that it disarmed the listener. With an authenticity impossible to imitate, his songs relied on no artifices; they were so pure they were unsettling. The sonic experiments—such as incorporating recordings captured from television, other records, or dialogues with friends and family (even his mother’s reprimands)—perhaps allow us to come closer to the artist’s vision of the world than with any other author.
A bad LSD experience at a Butthole Surfers concert and the subsequent abuse of psychotropic substances rapidly deteriorated his health. The recording of the album “1990” in New York, with members of Sonic Youth, proved frustrating (half recorded in the studio, half live at CBGB and in a record store: it is unsettling to feel his atavistic fear of the devil in Don’t Play Cards With Satan or Careless Soul). This, combined with multiple episodes—some nearly fatal—prevented Daniel from transcending his small circles of influence, earning him, by right, a place in the pantheon of cursed authors of the American underground.
Interest in him grew when Kurt Cobain was seen wearing a T-shirt featuring the cover of Hi, How Are You, to the point that a bidding war broke out between the record labels Elektra and Atlantic to sign Daniel. However, since Elektra had Metallica in its catalog, he fired—yet again (and for the last time)—his manager, friend, unconditional fan, and for years the tireless person responsible for copying and distributing his tapes, even after being dismissed. The premise was simple: Elektra is a satanic label because Metallica is a satanic band; therefore, my manager is satanic too. Atlantic acquired his rights, and “Fun”, his second “conventional” album after “Artistic Vice” (1991), was released in September 1994. It sold 5,800 copies. Atlantic terminated the contract in 1996.
A few more failed records and his constant problems kept Danieltied to the underground and removed from the broader artistic community. The acclaimed documentary “The Devil and Daniel Johnston” brought his name to a more general audience and opened doors for him to exhibit his art across the USA and Europe—something that had seemed unthinkable just a few years earlier. Thanks to advances in medication, he managed to tour internationally and present his songs before audiences who were always captivated and absorbed, aware that they were witnessing and hearing something unique and unrepeatable, like a shooting star crosses the night sky for only an instant.
The kid who only wanted to be famous like The Beatles left an indelible mark on the American underground. A corpus of cassette tapes and demos oscillating between the sublime and the indescribable. DIY, somewhat punkish, somewhat mystical-religious.
A few years before his death, already suffering from severe health problems resulting from diabetes, obesity, and chronic smoking, he embarked on a farewell tour with various backing bands. The Chicago date, accompanied by Jeff Tweedy (Wilco), was documented on the album “Chicago 2017” (2020).
Earlier, in 2004, some of the finest names in the American scene came together to cover his songs. On side B, Daniel Johnston’s originals; on side A, versions by Tom Waits, Teenage Fanclub, Beck, The Flaming Lips, Death Cab for Cutie, TV on the Radio… And, despite the distinguished lineup, no version can look you in the eye and move you like the originals.