For a lot of us, Jack Johnson was the soundtrack to some of life’s most wholesome memories. Depending on when you were born, his early CDs either soothed a packed car on the way to the beach, scored lazy sharehouse Sundays spent trying to learn guitar or ukulele, or played at bedtime and bath time long before you knew what a setlist was.
The Hawaiian singer-songwriter has spent over two decades as the patron saint of mellow, from surfing the North Shore of O’ahu to film school and onto a music career built on acoustic guitars, beach vibes and banana pancakes. Not to mention a charitable streak that has seen over $40 million donated to good causes since 2001, through album proceeds, tour profits and his own personal giving.
This time around, Johnson has ventured Down Under to celebrate SURFILMUSIC, a feature-length documentary directed by longtime friend Emmett Malloy that premiered at SXSW in March. But a man of many friends, Johnson is never really touring alone. For the first time ever, he’s brought along both Ben Harper and John Butler, who each play solo acoustic sets before the main event. It’s a full circle moment, too, given Harper was the one who first introduced Johnson to Australian audiences on those early tours.
The demand speaks for itself. Brisbane is the first stop on the Australian leg, and this Friday night show is actually the third and final date, added after Saturday and Sunday sold out. Even so, a glimpse between the treetops and high fences reveals the odd punter perched precariously in a tree, determined to catch a free show from outside the Riverstage gates.
Johnson and his longtime band (Adam Topol on drums, Zach Gill on keys and accordion and Merlo Podlewski on bass) go straight for the early catalogue, opening with “Mudfootball” before rolling through “Taylor,” “Sitting, Waiting, Wishing” and “You and Your Heart.” “Holes to Heaven” and “Inaudible Melodies” follow, then “Bubble Toes” with a cheeky nod to Steve Miller Band’s “Take the Money and Run,” and “F-Stop Blues.”
Midway through “Banana Pancakes,” Johnson swerves into a rendition of Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5,” with Gill filling out the sound on accordion. Is it just me, or does Gill look a fair bit like John Lennon up there?
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Drummer Topol then takes a turn on vocals, singing a verse or two of “Roadrunner” by The Modern Lovers before Johnson takes the reins and steers it into “Shot Reverse Shot.” Fittingly for a man with a film degree, the 2013 single is named after the film editing technique used to cut between two characters in conversation.
Icy blue light slices over the metal of the hi-hats as Topol kicks off a swinging beat for “Tape Deck,” from 2022’s Meet The Moonlight. Johnson explains the song is about starting his first band, recalling how he and his mates heard a song on the radio while driving to school one day, and decided that arvo they were going to make a band of their own. True to form, it comes laced with snippets of Fugazi’s “Waiting Room” and Rush’s “Tom Sawyer.”
Lights fade to blue once more as Johnson switches guitars.
“Let’s get John Butler back on the stage, shouldn’t we?”
The crowd woos. Butler shares that his own first band was called Vitamin, before soft plucking and harmonica waft us into a familiar ballad, “Breakdown.” Butler takes a slide guitar solo and speak-sings his way through a verse.
“One more time for John Butler,” Johnson says, before the pair dap and he whispers what we can only assume are compliments (or plans for the after-party) into Butler’s ear.
A salad of cowbells and bass drum stirs the crowd back into action for “Upside Down,” complete with yellow lighting for the man in the yellow hat. If there was an award for most instruments per square metre, this stage would take it home, with accordion, melodica, harmonica, slide guitar and cowbell all making an appearance across the night.
“Hey, let’s get Ben Harper up on the stage!”
Now welcoming the second of his openers, Johnson gets a little sentimental. “All joking aside, me and John were kicking back and talking about how much we were inspired by this guy,” he says, glancing over at Harper. He adds that Harper isn’t much older than him, but that he used to cruise around in the car listening to Harper’s first album.
Harper plays with the guitar flat on his lap, plucking strategically, as “Flake” becomes a duet between the two. Harper takes a slide solo of his own, and where Butler’s was earthy, Harper’s goes for a more traditionally bluesy sound, the perfect level of funk and 60s rock realness.
Harper stays on for The Wailers’ “High Tide or Low Tide,” complementing Johnson beautifully and hitting the high harmonies in between that same slide tone. The licks and soprano notes give it a truly Americana feel, and give Johnson a soul that runs deeper than just the mellow guy we know.
Then comes a slowed-down, funked-up take on “Staple It Together,” with a funky solo from Johnson, solid drum fills and a groovy ’70s-inspired clavinet solo from Gill. It slides seamlessly into Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky” without the audience even realising until the first bar hits, and on that same beat, Johnson rolls back into “Staple It Together.” It proves how easily he can put his own flavour on someone else’s song, since his sound is so signature to himself.
The medley keeps going, with a hi-hat swing swirling us into “Good People.” Speaking of smooth changes, Johnson’s guitars seem to swap by apparition, with four or five making an appearance across the night. Johnson is singlehandedly keeping touring guitar techs in business.
“Give it up for Zach.”
After a minute’s breather, Johnson asks what we want to hear, somehow picking out answers over the muffled, beery murmurings.
“Alright, this is the campfire portion of the night.”
He explains it’s like sitting around a campfire, only with songs not everyone remembers, so you get to reteach them. “It’s kinda sad ’cause it’s my own songs,” he jokes, before launching into “an old one,” “Posters.”
Not every request lands exactly like the recordings.
“I don’t remember the end. I’m sorry,” he laughs, shrugging at the crowd with a goofy grin. “I gotta learn the rest of it for the rest of the tour.”
He jokes he’ll have to stop taking requests, testing whether he can still remember the chords to some of the older tunes. Honestly, that’s half the charm.
“Never Know” follows, then “Do You Remember,” which earns one of the biggest rounds of applause of the night. With that, punters grow more confident with their requests, voices smattering from the back all the way to the front.
The crowd claps in time, unprompted, to the guitar intro of “Fortunate Fool.” This is the Jack Johnson I know best: the audible version of poured honey, or the milky froth on a good cup of coffee. Warm and cosy, like a big bear hug.
“We’ll see who we can get up here, anyone who’s still around,” Johnson says over the opening chords of “Better Together.” The screen has turned sepia, which should be the clue. To the left of the stage, a man in a button-up can be seen hugging a tree in the same way that Jack Johnson songs feel.
“Maybe we’ll see some of you guys tomorrow night, thank you so much.”
The crowd then flows out into the green night, dodging the odd mozzie bite and letting out the odd yawn. Then again, a 10pm finish isn’t too bad for a crowd who grew up on his music.
Johnson still looks pretty much the same, apart from the peppery grey hair that comes with time. It’s a gentle reminder of just how long it’s been since he first came on the scene, and how little he’s needed to change. That’s the throughline of SURFILMUSIC itself: through the surf films, the 25 million-plus albums sold and the sold-out tours, Johnson never really changed. His songs are simple enough to strum around an actual campfire, warm enough to sing kids to sleep and honest enough to grow up with, which is exactly why a generation raised on Curious George now fills amphitheatres. There are no big theatrics or pyro, just a bloke and his mates swapping guitars and stories like they’re sitting around a bonfire on the North Shore.
In an era where everything feels louder and faster, there’s something to be said for an artist who’s happy to forget the words and laugh it off. Some things really are better together.
