We've all had a Johnny or two in our lives, the kind of couch-surfing ne'er-do-well who possesses just enough of that wiley troubadour charm that eventually convinces you to let him crash for an extra day. You look forward to the cryptic postcards, the soon-to-be party-favored stories-- hell, you even make him an honorary member of the band. You might even try to channel his spirit animal through your new LP, however vague a seance it ends up being. This particular Johnny is also the Skygreen Leopards' Johnny, for which a good deal of their sixth proper full-length Gorgeous Johnny is about, either in body or spirit. But don't blame the man (or myth, for that matter: Johnny's name appears as much as Jehovah's, a longstanding Leopards' reference and centerpiece) for either the mild successes or countless missteps presented here; it is, for the most part, the final shake of a fruitless branch.
The Leopards certainly have enjoyed a solid streak since teaming up in 2001. Anchored by Glenn Donaldson and Donovan Quinn, the San Franciscan duo (who regularly enlist orbiting friends and musicians from record to record; this one features Papercuts' Jason Quever) has long been producing Cali-fried folk concerned with extolling the virtues of blissed-out Americana. Best represented on their 2005 Surrender Jehovah EP, these seemingly straight-forward strummers and hummers can somehow bear and begin to force open the young buds of commercial-leaning psychedelia. Those songs, much like the ones here on Johnny, weren't in the least bit freaky (especially at a time when everyone clung so desperately to that tag), owning their own space within the wiggle-free barriers of the straightforward, two-and-a-half-minute song.
The bulk of Gorgeous Johnny is unfortunately too earnest and too patient really to go anywhere in particular, preening like a collection of meticulously cleaned Travis demos or, at their worst, an Adam Green album without any of the dirty bits. Take for example album highlight "Goodnight Anna", an extremely well-crafted, simple song that is sadly rehashed and reevaluated about 12 times too many over the course of the album. It sits dead in the middle, falsely redefining the first five cuts as building blocks and ignoring any chance to eventually one-up "Anna"'s foamy whispers and mournful twangs as the album moves along. It most fully realizes the Leopards' struggle with the bittersweetness of reminiscence and fleeting emotion, but unfortunately doesn't leave much room for any sort of creative expanse: however pacifying the rigidity of these song structures are, well... what you see is what you get.
This isn't to say that everything both North and South of this astute highlight is for naught, with plenty of ideas and passing moments that manage to stick rather elegantly. Opener "Johnny's Theme" is a lovely little stone-kicker that helps recall lost days of butterfly-netting; "Margery" is a spot-on summer lament for a girl impossibly trapped inside herself for whatever reason; "Gorgeous Johnny" waxes Dylan over a simple little Band-indebted progression, more pleasant yet equally as plain as anything else here. It's not that there are any cataclysmic duds, though "Dixie Cups in the Dead Grass" ultimately tumbles over itself like a sprinting drunk, and "SGL's, et al" is about as repetitive and irritating as a song gets. The real problem is that the KISS (Keep It Simple, Stupid) model needs to somehow circumvent the complacency and redundance. That, or maybe a record about your wild and flaky friends shouldn't submit to such hollow sameness.
