In the four years between this, Mike Johnson's fifth album, and his previous one, What Would You Do, he seems to have replaced his music's abject sadness with anger. In a sense, the way he's gone from sweeping, country and folk-influenced sad-rock to noisy, straightforward guitar overload echoes Neil Young's many transitions between the two sounds, though Johnson sings more like Leonard Cohen or Kurt Wagner. Of all his albums, this is the least like his work with Mark Lanegan and the closest he's come to sounding like Dinosaur Jr., the band he played bass for in the 1990s.
Johnson and his backing band, the Evildoers, kick up an unholy racket worthy of the moniker. Drummer Jason Albertini and bassist Jim Roth (Built to Spill) stir the sludge at the bottom of the mix, while Johnson and guitarist Brett Nelson trade nasty fuzz and grotesque hammer-ons. Bookended by a couple of folky acoustic guitar teases titled "In" and "Out", the album slugs its way through acrid songs with biting intensity. Johnson's deadpan hook of "I'm on track now" in "On Track" is catchy despite being barely sung, his matter-of-fact delivery serving as a counterweight to the crunchy grind of the band.
Junior Byles' "Fade Away" is nearly unrecognizable in the middle of the record. It sounds like a Black Heart Procession track, especially since Nelson's backing vocals bear a striking resemblance to Pall Jenkins. "Can't Get it Right" is the album's great meltdown, guitars pushed so hard they bleed white noise, while the title track is a 4 a.m. pub crawl ending in the back seat of a filthy taxi. Johnson's usual rural tinges find their way into "If the World Hadn't Gone Insane", a 6/8, pedal steel-touched ballad that begins its message of devotion with the lines, "Well maybe it's the drugs/ Or maybe it's the way you never watch your mouth."
So Mike Johnson hasn't really cheered up so much as found a new way to channel his disappointment. The result is an album that echoes the tough and noisy street outside the bar more than the beer-staring inaction of the interior. In hitting so hard, the record occasionally sacrifices some of its tunefulness, but on balance, Johnson's misery is as enjoyable as it's ever been.
