Released: April 4, 2025
Will Johnson is at an interesting place in his career. For the long-timers–those of us in the know–he’s practically a national treasure. And then there’s this whole new contingent of potential fans wondering about the talented new addition to Jason Isbell’s touring band. Now, I’m tempted to spend the next three paragraphs outlining his by-way-of-Denton bonafides (a list that includes Centro-Matic, South San Gabriel, etc.), but there’s really no need. Not when each new solo release represents the perfect point of entry into an otherwise massive back catalog.
On the heels of 2023’s utterly fantastic No Ordinary Crown, I couldn’t help but wonder if Johnson’s A-list drumming duties (i.e., months on the road) would slow his previously prolific solo output. Well, the also-painter/novelist somehow found the time to drop an E.P. (2024’s Sleuthed/Full Cuts) and record a full-length follow-up to boot, Diamond City.
With someone as consistent as Johnson, it feels a bit obvious to heap a pile of praise on his latest release. That said, while “it’s good, just like the last one” would certainly suffice, I remain impressed by just how distinct each new Will Johnson project feels, especially when considering the dozens of releases he’s been involved with.
Sonically, Diamond City falls more on the lo-fi, home-recording end of the spectrum. While it shares DNA with 2020’s Nebraska-adjacent El Capitan, the judicious use of live drums and washed-out electric guitars feels like a natural extension of the full-band sound dominating No Ordinary Crown. So, stylistically, this nine-song collection essentially splits the difference between Johnson’s prior two releases, but in a way that feels totally cohesive.
The album opens strong with “Floodway Fall,” a lowkey, backbeat-driven strummer featuring stark imagery (“I was part snake, part television“) and a slow-build arrangement that grows denser with each passing verse. The surprising addition of what sounds like a children’s choir in the background adds an unexpected but totally effective texture to Johnson’s sonic palette.
Early album highlight “Unfamiliar Ghost” showcases everything that makes Johnson’s solo work so compelling – his trademark harmonies layered over a washed-out drum-machine rhythm, culminating in a brilliant outro solo. This leads perfectly into the haunting title track, which pairs some brilliant lyrics (“drawing out an old route to new fears“) with a textured, cinematic treatment built around a circular guitar riff. For homemade 4-track recordings, the production here is remarkably sophisticated.
The album’s mid-section offers some of its most accessible moments. “All Dragged Out” pairs brittle acoustic strumming with another drum-machine rhythm, building to one of Johnson’s most memorable choruses, while the solo instrumental “Clem Witkins” serves as a perfect intermission, shining a spotlight on Johnson’s impressive, albeit understated guitar playing.
Johnson’s talent for intimate, imagery-rich songwriting comes to the fore in the album’s second half. “Cairo” stands as perhaps the album’s most intimate moment, finding Johnson ruminating on the chaotic bliss of domesticity with vocals barely above a whisper: “How dare you interrupt this heinous clutter in my mind? All this busted racket I call mine? Or the endless effort that I commit to the high art of wasting time? How dare you be so kind?” This is followed by “Sylvarena,” a mid-tempo alt-country gem that wouldn’t sound out of place on any number of Centro-Matic releases.
Sporting more striking lyrical imagery (“you’re a red tail hawk, staring down at me…I’m a hot breath seeker on a forgotten mountain“), a John Upike-inspired title and culminating in an fuzz-drenched crescendo, “Rabbit Run” is the album’s emotional climax. Diamond City closes with “Requiem/High Road Plume,” a four-minute piano instrumental that serves as a perfect, meditative coda.
I tend to view Will Johnson’s solo catalog as two distinct phases. The first couple of records (Murder of Tides, Vultures Await) were released during a period where Johnson was full-time fronting Centro-Matic (along with a slew of other projects). Both releases were cut squarely from the stripped-down singer-songwriter template and felt like low-key diversionary compliments to Johnson’s powerhouse day job.
Then, with Centro-Matic’s permanent hiatus clear on the horizon, 2012’s Scorpion found Johnson subtly shifting gears, embracing a more all-in approach on the production front. The resulting record was a dark, brooding affair that stands as one of Johnson’s most focused musical statements to date. From that point until now, Johnson has released a run of solo albums that, to the writer, represent his artistic peak. Some are louder than others, but Johnson has only refined his ability to present a stark, cohesive collection of songs over the years.
To those still listening, Diamond City is just another entry into an ongoing renaissance. For the other ninety-nine percent of people attending the next Isbell tour, Johnson remains the “guy behind the kit.” If only they knew what they were missing out on–this album would be a perfect place to start.
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