“Country-soul rejects no useful tool in its arsenal of dark expression – in the house of Johnny Dowd, drum machines and punk guitar tear the place apart, and story puts things back together, even if there are cracks left in the walls from all the ruckus. Find Johnny in the Cabaret Hall on Saturday at 9pm.”
WASHINGTON, DC – NOVEMBER 9, 2017: Johnny Dowd performs at Hill Country Live in Washington, DC opening for Pere Ubu. (Photo by Richie Downs)
The new record is coming along swimmingly. I guess if I were to put it in a genre, it would be Alt Country/Roots Rock/Americana, etc. They’re the kind of tunes I was writing 20 years ago. Mike Edmondson plays some great rock and roll guitar, and the icing on the cake is the return of Kim Sherwood Caso, singing better than ever. Still some work to do, but this may be a breakthrough album. Grammys, here I come.
Quinn’s favorite troubadour is back! Fresh off the release of his exploration into American music’s public domain! His new record Twinkle, Twinkle will take you places with classic pieces of the American song book like “Sweet Clementine” and “House of the Rising Sun” that you once thought not possible. Give it a good look at http://johnnydowd.com/
“Imagine if Hank Williams had mutated into Captain Beefheart, acquiring a bunch of primitive electronic equipment along the way, and you’ll get some idea of where Johnny Dowd is at on Execute American Folklore. . . . Gloriously deviant.“
— Andy Gill, The Independent (London)
(The following is from a previous Facebook post for a Quinn’s gig Johnny was forced to cancel, but it bears repeating!-Editors)
“The clock says noon, but is it midnight? The world without me? That’d be alright” -Johnny
It doesn’t matter what time it is when you hear Johnny Dowd, it’s always too late. The man’s music eclipses everything produced today in the Indie-mainstream. Wry and thought provoking (White Dolemite). Depraved and funky (3/29/48). Playful yet dark and hollow (A World Without Me). Every emotion inspired by these tunes exists balanced on a razors edge. The beauty can only be fully realized when everything falls apart to reveal the nebulous ambivalence of the webs Johnny weaves. The man’s an instituion and we’re all just lucky enough to be late to the party.