It’s six hours before showtime outside the Abbey Pub in the North West side of Chicago. In a last minute phone call to the coast, I cross my fingers and ask if Jonathan Richman would be willing to have a few words with me before he takes the stage that evening. “Jonathan doesn’t really do interviews,” his publicist tells me. “We can’t really get a hold of him, actually. Jonathan won’t carry a cell phone on him.”
It only makes sense. Jonathan won’t carry a phone. He also won’t allow an official website, making it a godsend that I managed to reach his record label at all. One rumor has it that he only travels by Greyhound, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Despite all of this, the enigmatic singer/songwriter has been touring internationally since the ‘70s, and has influenced generations of musicians from across a spectrum of genres from punk and rock, to folk and country. Richman and percussionist Tommy Larkin have been touring as a duo for over a decade now, and are hitting the road again this fall. The two will be performing at the Bug Jar in Rochester October 21.
Richman most notably founded the iconic rock group The Modern Lovers in 1970, and with the release of their self-titled debut in ’76 (two years after the album was recorded), the album aided in ushering in the proto-punk new wave sound that, while borrowing heavily from the more polished work of the Velvet Underground, prefaced the more grave punk scene that was erupting in England shortly after; The Sex Pistols occasionally covered track one from The Modern Lovers, “Roadrunner.” Hailed as a rock and roll masterpiece, The Modern Lovers introduced Jonathan Richman as a quirky, young Boston boy who likes to play his guitar and go on dates at the museum, and while the instrumentation behind the album influenced practically a whole generation of angry-at-the-ennui rock and roll, the group on the album had already disbanded years earlier, and Richman was already at work on a new Modern Lovers, that relied almost entirely on acoustic instruments and a relaxed, folk approach.
Richman continued to put out albums throughout the ‘80s and ‘90s, and interest rejuvenated a decade ago when he and Larkin appeared in There’s Something About Mary as wandering troubadours who narrated the award winning comedy with musical interludes between scenes. His tally of official albums now exceeds twenty titles.
When Richman walked on the stage at the Abbey later that night, his wide-eyed glare illuminated every face in the sold-out crowd as he approached the microphone. At age 57, the singer is unmistakably young at heart. While his songs frequently deal with the most emotional of subject matter, like life, love, and death, through his signature narrative, a heavy New England accent that he sing-speaks with a hint of tremolo, his delivery could be mistaken for that of a shy teenager, calling up for a first date. It’s been that way for well over thirty years now, since Richman essentially was that nervous nineteen year old when he first tried to make a name for himself in New York City in the sixties. As Richman certainly has matured musically, he doesn’t stray too far from his classic formula of down-to-earth love songs rejoicing bands, girls, and art: Some of his most revered numbers are tunes about Dali, Van Gogh, and Vermeer.
Even at his age, Richman remains as active as ever, touring the world with Larkin, performing acoustic arrangements of new material, as well as hits from the first few Modern Lovers albums. In Chicago, Richman decided to try out a new one, and the timing couldn’t have been better:
“If I’m on a walk / I’m on a walk / and you can’t call me there / If I’m on the beach / I’m on the beach / No, you can’t call me there / You can have a cell phone, that’s okay / But not me…”
Like a soft spoken John Kennedy, the broad A syllabic pronunciation echoes throughout the music hall and the crowd listens intuitively with open ears and grins as Richman, far from tongue-in-cheek, just begins to discuss his erratic idiosyncrasies with song. When Richman wavers from tunes about cell phones and lesbian bars, it’s hard to tell how sincere he is when he hushes the crowd and sings heartfelt love songs in Italian, Spanish and French. Richman is not afraid to slow the show down with a handful of beautiful ballads about lost love and innocence, and then pick it back up with “I’m a Little Dinosaur,” or “Pablo Picasso,” from the eponymous debut:
“Well, some people try to pick up girls / And get called assholes / This never happened to Pablo Picasso / He could walk down your street / And girls could not resist his stare and / So, Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole.”
It is not uncommon for Richman, who balances a strapless Spanish style classical guitar against his waist for the duration of his 70 minute shows, to put down his instrument and lead the crowd in dance. It’s by no means good, but the amount of emotion present matches the sentiment found in his voice. When he gets real daring, Richman allows himself a percussion solo, and will jangle a rack of jingle bells along to Larkin’s beat, returning to his guitar in time to insert a solo in mid-refrain. It doesn’t belong there, but Richman will make it fit, and Larkin, perfectly in sync, feeds off of Richman’s tempo, time, and key changes. Think of a jazz duo without the pretense, accompanied by the lyrical dionysiac of a man who has seen more than enough.
Richman told Rolling Stone during the ‘90s that his songs are not necessarily autobiographical. “To me, they’re just songs,” he told the magazine upon the release of the Ric Okasek-produced I’m So Confused in 1998. “I like to play stuff, I don’t like to talk about it,” he continued. Needless to say, the interview was brief, and was one of the last ones carried by a major publication.
Despite the lack of publicity, inexplicable peculiarities and remaining just under the radar for over 30 years, Richman’s fan base remains devoted to whom many consider the godfather of punk, new wave, and indie. While he nowadays performs unplugged, the emotion of yesteryear is still evident in every word his Boston accent annunciates.
