‘100 per cent psycho’: Daniel Johns reappears with nod to Silverchair
He’s been out of public view for three years. On Saturday, the Aussie rocker returned to the spotlight, and debuted a new anticipated film.
Daniel Johns’ first public appearance in three years was always going to be a curious affair.
The former Silverchair frontman has led an enigmatic existence since leaving the globally famous three-piece band in 2011, and venturing out on his own as a singer-songwriter.
Since, there’s been the defamation cases, the drink-driving charges, the rehab, the mental health concerns, and the continuing ill-feeling between he and Silverchair’s Ben Gillies and Chris Joannau, the Newcastle schoolmates with whom, in the 1990s, he formed one of Australia’s most successful rock bands.
Testament to Johns’ talent since Silverchair’s “indefinite hibernation” began has been his success as a solo performer: he is the most-awarded artist in ARIA history, boasting 21 statues to his name, and with 30,000-odd monthly listeners on Spotify, he remains one of the country’s most celebrated musicians.
It was little wonder, then, that fans flocked to Sydney’s beautiful State Theatre to see the man himself launch the world premiere of short film, What if the Future Never Happened?, a biopic of sorts “from the mind of Daniel Johns”, preceded by an in-conversation event wherein the musician would open up about life, art and everything in between.
The event was hosted by Dylan Lewis, the Double J personality best known by a generation of Gen Xers and Millennials as the star of Recovery, ABC TV’s madcap former Saturday morning music show. It was clear from the outset the central concern of the show was to make Johns – who has been open about his battles with mental health – as comfortable as possible.
To that end, the stage was designed like the living room of the singer’s Newcastle mansion, including all the comforts of home: his own horseshoe-shaped velour couch. His coffee table. His oil burner. Some incense and pot plants. A lamp. His water bottle. And his housemate and creative collaborator, Luke Eblen.
Lewis, clad in a pink tracksuit, kicked off the show with a rousing introduction for Eblen, the videographer and photographer who has worked with Johns for more than a decade.
The pair’s 15-minute chat was interesting, if at times laboured — certainly, they will grow more comfortable as the tour rolls on — and just when it looked like promoters might have made things so comfortable for the eccentric singer that he might not actually show up, the man himself appeared. Johns, entering in long black shorts and a Kraftwerk T-shirt, was treated, naturally, to a rock-star welcome.
Settling into his own couch, the musician admitted he was as “nervous as f..k”, and it showed. Audience members shouted love and support, and Johns described the room as “one enormous family”. After threatening to vomit with anxiety, he promised the crowd would get an insight “into the creative process that makes me an absolute 100 per cent psycho”.
And, while it was difficult at times to hear some of the dialogue, we did glean some insights into the world of Australian rock royalty.
An unreleased bedroom-recording demo of All the Time in the World, for 1999’s Neon Ballroom, took the audience back to the raw teenage vocals and sophisticated guitar playing that made Johns a household name in the ’90s. Why did the beautiful track not make the album? Johns explained he was not comfortable bringing it into the world.
Arguably Silverchair most’s talked-about unreleased track, Machina Collecta, was the next treat for the assembled. The tune, a punkish dirge, had been slated for the band’s sixth album, which never saw the light of day. After the song was played, Johns made the first of two magnanimous mentions of his estranged former bandmates. “Shoutout to Ben and Chris,” he said, with a smile. What is Johns’ relationship with the boys now? Does he have fond memories of Silverchair? Does he get sick of being asked about a reunion? Lewis, however, dodged any such line of inquiry. The second shoutout to the Silverchair band members occurred when special guest and Johns collaborator Paul Mac was on stage. Again, however, the caravan was moved on.
While Lewis — who did an excellent job of keeping the show on the road — might have pressed his subject further, clearly this was not the point. Lewis was not there to interrogate. This was an event less about mining Johns for big answers than it was about fossicking for rare gems; about an audience wrapping its arms around him and welcoming him back to the fold. And in that, it succeeded beyond expectation.
The highlights here were plentiful and rich: standouts included the early demo recordings from 2002’s Diorama – Luv Your Life and Across the Night – and Johns’ beautifully ethereal unreleased tune, Melody. Johns opened up about meeting Bono, Billy Corgan, David Spade and Sean Penn, when, with all the bravado of youth, he showed them a demo of the LP. Bono, Johns said bashfully, “kept playing it over and over”. Lewis asked whether Melody – and its beautiful accompanying film clip, shot by Eblen – would be released to the public. Johns couldn’t say, but if the enthusiastic reception from the crowd were any indication, the track would have an eager audience in waiting.
To be fair to Lewis, he had a difficult task in interviewing one of the country’s most enigmatic stars, and one, in Johns, no longer accustomed to being in the public eye, let alone on stage. And to be fair to Johns, for his first public appearance in years, he was warm, humble and engaging, if initially overwhelmed. Eventually, under Lewis and Eblen’s sensitive stewardship, Johns warmed up, turning on the house lights to eye his legion of fans. The thrill in the musician’s face was evident. It was a touching moment.
The love for Johns in the room was palpable – and surely the Sydney crowd is just a taste of what lies in store when the tour hits Johns’ hometown of Newcastle on Friday. Simply having seen, in the flesh, this enduring hero of Australian music was worth the price of admission.
Furthermore, the conversation was something of an entree to the main course: the world premiere of What if the Future Never Happened? The short film, written by the musician’s brother and manager Heath Johns, Heath George and James Medlam (who also directed), finally hit the screen at 10.40pm. Some punters had left the building by the time the removalists rolled in, and the curtain went up.
Described as “a genre-bending, semi-autobiographical sci-fi featurette that puts reality and fantasy in a hyper-speed spin cycle”, it features Johns’ music and begins in 1994, with the teenage protagonist Daniel (Rasmus King) in his bedroom, penning tunes. The young Daniel ventures outside on his pushbike, wearing an orange Stackhat, and encounters a trio of local bullies whom he escapes, but ultimately will have to confront. The film then enters the metaphysical realm, and after a climactic meteorological event at the local steelworks, Daniel meets his future funky, freaky self (the real Daniel Johns wearing a tie-dyed fur coat) at a laundromat.
The story climaxes in a revelatory, touching scene I won’t spoil here. After the credits roll, Johnses past and present are illustrated interchangeably behind a microphone, as they rock out with band ‘Hellriot’, Silverchair in a parallel universe, and their song, Start to Heal, actually Israel’s Son from the debut album Frogstomp.
So, what’s it all about? As one crowd member suggested after the show, we should just be heartened that one of the country’s greatest cultural figures is happy, healthy and still making art. The film, at its heart, is a fantasy of what might have been had Silverchair not made it big. Maybe, too, it’s an explanation of a life lived in the public eye, or an apology, were one needed, to the young Daniel Johns. More likely, it’s the musician’s way of being at peace himself, with the man – the genius, the enigma, the 46-year-old – he has become.
Johns grew up fast: a brilliantly gifted, wide-eyed steeltown teen staring through a curtain of blond hair at a future he could never have conceived. Fame arrived and he thrived in its complicated embrace.
Clearly, somewhere along the way, however, Daniel Johns lost himself. Perhaps now, in this present and with a view to the future, Australia’s greatest rock ’n’ roll talent truly believes he is found.
Daniel Johns: In Conversation: What If The Future Never Happened? tours to Newcastle on Friday, then Brisbane and Melbourne.
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