Sit Around the Campfire, It's Time For Some Brushfire Fairytales

Slow down everyone, you're moving too fast
Frames can't catch you when you're moving like that...

...ahh yes, my slogan for the last three months.

To use a term that's far overused but often rather accurate, the last few months were the proverbial "blur". Finishing my degree, trying to make my mark at the new job, raising a toddler, and all sorts of family "issues" does not make for a lot of spare time (as evidenced by my last actual review showing up in October). When life moves as fast as that, you need something to slow things down. You need someone to tell you to mellow out, it's all right, life's passing by, check it out sometime. My wonderful wife is awfully good at that, but when we're both that busy, we're barely awake at the same time.

Enter Jack Johnson.

I first saw Jack Johnson on the underrated and all too short-lived VH1 show, "Late World with Zack". VH1 was playing a "Late World with Zack" marathon, and I was just coming off a musigasm where Cake's John McCrea showed up unannounced to perform "Fred Jones, Part 2" with Ben Folds. After sitting through what undoubtedly was some amusing (if forgettable) sketch comedy, here's this single dude, acoustic guitar in hand, playing one of the most gorgeous songs I'd ever heard. I had no idea what it was, but I made sure to file Jack Johnson in the "sh*t I need" folder in the back of my skull. Two months and a Barnes & Noble gift card later, Jack Johnson's debut album Brushfire Fairytales was ready for my personal consumption.

Now, I didn't know too much about the history of Mr. Johnson at that point, and I still don't. I know he's a full-time surfer, part-time songwriter who's a pal of Ben Harper and the fine fellows in G Love and Special Sauce, but that's about it. All I really need to know, however, is summed up in the very first song, "Inaudible Melodies", whose refrain contains the couplet that opens this review--words that come off as simultaneously simple and revelatory. Jack Johnson wants us to kick back, relax, and listen to some tunes for a while. Whether in my car, at home, or at work, I have been more than happy to oblige.

The thirteen tunes on this disc never go past "medium" on the rock 'n roll meter, but when they're as nice as these songs, you never really notice. Most of the songs contain gently strummed guitars, tales of people Johnson probably knows, and ruminations on life in general. It never gets too serious or deep, and Johnson's wordplay and sense of rhythm give the impression of telling a tale. The highlight of the disc is undoubtedly "Flake," the song I saw on Zack's show that fateful night. "Flake" is a song about a relationship on the verge of failing, as we hear the lyrics It seems to me that maybe / Pretty much always means no / So don't tell me / You might just let it go. Strong chord progressions and variations in the verses keep the song moving along and inherently listenable. The song takes on a whole new dimension in its final minute-and-a-half, as Johnson starts jamming with Ben Harper, and pleading for his subject to Please, please, please don't pass me by and Please, please, please don't drag me down. It jams more than anything else on the disc, and it's a jubilant declaration of....well, of something, I'm sure.

Unfortunately, "Flake" also contains the most glaring example of Brushfire Fairytales' worst problem: The mixing is all wrong. Mostly, the drums are way too loud in the mix, and wherever they appear, they dominate the mix, screaming "LISTEN TO ME," while the listener is distracted enough to miss a great line and a melody. The bass is way up in the mix too, sometimes drowning out the guitars, but on a disc as mellow as this, that's not such a problem. The mix could have benefited from a little more reverb, too, making it sound a bit slicker and not so dry, but hey, I'm nitpicking now.

There are highlights other than "Flake" that I should probably mention. "Middle Man" and "Bubble Toes" are great strummers of songs that feature more great chord progressions and quicker pace. "Bubble Toes" in particular is strangely memorable for its "La da dada dat dah / Lat da dat dat dat dat dahhhh" refrain. "Posters" and "Fortunate Fool" are nice little songs with shades of reggae, that would be better if they weren't so darn similar to each other. "Sexy Plexi" is short, at only two minutes, but it's vaguely middle-eastern feel is nothing like anything else on the disc, so it's good for a change. "The News" is a heartfelt song about the matter-of-factness with which tragedy is delivered on the nightly news. Not exactly ground-breaking, but it is well-written, and that's what counts. "Mudfootball" is a fun little ditty, reminiscing about friends and good times. Closing the disc is "It's All Understood," whose loping piano makes it nothing like anything else on the disc. It ends Brushfire Fairytales on a bit of a downer, but it's still a great listen.

Really, the album's only misstep comes with "Losing Hope," a song that's so depressing that it's nearly unlistenable. It sounds a lot like the other slower stuff on the disc, but with lyrics like "Losing hope is easy / When your only friend is gone / And every time you look around / Well, it all, it all just seems to change" it just seems waaay too depressing to go with the rest of what's here, this album being a paean to loving life and everything in it, warts and all. "It's All Understood" seems positively cheery, sitting next to "Losing Hope" as it does.

Fortunately, the one non-enjoyable song doesn't kill my enjoyment of this wonderful album. If you feel like everything's going too fast, like you haven't been able to keep up with the rest of life, like you haven't slept, I mean really slept in weeks, give Jack Johnson's Brushfire Fairytales a spin. Listening to this disc is like leaning your head on someone's shoulder, drinking a cup of hot cocoa on a cold day, getting a great backrub....you get the picture. Give it a shot.