It’s 2:15 on a Sunday afternoon in Atlanta, and Jack Johnson seems to have just woken up. But when you’re talking to a guy who probably wears a T-shirt and flip-flops 365 days a year, it’s pretty hard to tell. Though Johnson is scheduled to take Music Midtown’s main stage in a little over two hours, he seems as loose as his breezy brand of Frisbee-folk. He’s channel surfing inside his tour bus, talking about his second record, On and On, which hit stores in May, and his summer amphitheatre tour with friend and mentor Ben Harper.
With an easygoing sound that falls lazily between Cat Stevens and Sublime, Johnson’s music sounds better with a tequila and twist of lime in hand, a salty breeze, and sand under your feet. Sedate, minor-chord melodies carry lyrics about snowboarding, bubbly toes and mud football over Rasta-tinged barre chords. A modern-day Jimmy Buffett sans the Margaritaville cheese, Johnson has made his mark with a seemingly effortless vibe that neither overwhelms nor disappoints—and that’s just fine with him.
“I’m not trying to do something dissonant that people don’t get,” Johnson explains, without a hint of defensiveness. “I’m just playing music for people who want to have a good time. I mean, I’m not trying to kid myself—it’s simple stuff. It’s easy to sing along to. I want people to hear my songs and feel like they could have written them.”
Fans connect with his mellow stage persona, which provides the perfect complement to his music. And since his crowds are more apt to party than hang on every note, Johnson says he and his band put very little pressure on themselves. “It has to be a really bad show for us to get bummed,” he says. “If we have a sloppy set but the crowd seems to be having fun, we don’t really worry about it.”
Following a solid year-and-a-half of touring to support his platinum-selling debut, Brushfire Fairytales, the band retreated in August 2002 to Johnson’s hometown of Oahu, Hawaii, to lay down tracks for On and On. Longtime Beastie Boys producer Mario Caldato Jr. (aka Mario C.) signed on to produce the project after convincing Johnson to convert his garage into a studio. They surfed in the morning and barbecued at night, maintaining a loose, familial atmosphere that comes through soft and clear in the recordings.
“When you’re not paying for the studio space, it makes a huge difference,” Johnson notes. “You can take your time, and you’re not forced to compromise your lifestyle. The sessions basically felt like afternoon jams with friends.”
The sleepy island rhythms of On and On are certainly no radical departure from Brushfire, though Johnson does dig in a little deeper, lyrically. Caldato’s subtle touches help break the strum-hum monotony with percussive grooves like “The Horizon Has Been Defeated,” “Holes to Heaven” and “Rodeo Clowns” (which Johnson borrowed back from G. Love). The production allowed Johnson to wear his influences on his sleeve without ruining his shirt.
“A lot of people know Mario from the Beasties, but he does so much more music,” Johnson explains. “He was excited about the project because it was a non-hip-hop thing for him to do. You can definitely hear some hip-hop influence in my lyrics and phrasings, but I never want to give my music too much of that vibe, because it’s unnatural. I grew up in Hawaii, not on the streets. And I love reggae, but I didn’t grow up in strife. Mario was great, because he was able to combine these elements in the flavor we wanted, like the thick tones and the break beats.”
While most musicians chase success from day one, a career in music was never really part of Johnson’s master plan. Instead, fame seemed to come looking for him by way of the sea. Born and raised on Hawaii’s North Shore, he began surfing the revered Pipeline at age 12. By 17, he became the youngest invitee ever to make the finals at the Pipe trials, the world's most prestigious surfing event. Yet despite scoring a pro contract before graduating high school, Johnson gravitated away from competition to explore his creative side. He earned a film degree at the University of California, Santa Barbara, and began racking up film credits on surf films and music videos. He traveled to Indonesia and Australia to shoot some of the world’s top surfers with an acoustic guitar in tow. Many of Johnson’s first songs appeared in his movies, and the surf community encouraged him to keep writing and recording.
An early break came when G. Love and Special Sauce chose one of his songs as the first single on their 1999 release Philadelphonic. “Rodeo Clowns” turned into a minor radio hit, giving laid-back Jack some initial industry exposure. A four-month tour supporting Harper garnered him thousands of music-minded fans along the way, paving the way for his debut release, which was distributed on an upstart label co-founded by J.P. Plunier, Harper’s manager and producer. Brushfire Fairytales was quickly embraced by the college, jam band and adult-alternative crowds—much to the surprise of Johnson, who never expected his music to get beyond the surf-and-skate crowd.
“Music wasn’t anything I planned on doing, but I hate to sound indifferent, because I truly appreciate all the support we’ve received,” says Johnson, who recently turned 28. “I think the key is to pay your dues without realizing you’re paying them. When we were traveling in our little soccer-mom van, the three of us took turns driving through the night to get to the next gig. And the thing is, we never once thought, ‘Man, we need to get a bus.’ We were always just super excited to be on the road with our friends, playing these little clubs.”
The days of playing small clubs are long-gone. A 55-date package tour with Harper will keep Johnson on the road through the early fall. Both artists are playing full sets each night and even sitting in with each other on occasion. All shows are in 5,000-15,000-seat outdoor venues, giving Johnson’s songs plenty of room to breathe—and plenty of voices to help sing along.
“The second you figure out what everyone digs about your music is probably a bad revelation because you’ll start trying to move in a direction people want to hear,” he adds. “Thankfully, I’m not too concerned with figuring it all out.”