Out of the Past

Freedom Is... is, at last, the solo record John Doe has always had in him, that perfect hybrid of acoustic, folk-tinged chime and plugged-in, ragged charm (it sounds like the best of 1995's KISSINGSOHARD and his 1998 EP For The Rest of Us). He travels familiar ground--that desolate, wind-swept wasteland drenched in the spilled sweat and blood of failed relationships and vanished friends--but for the first time in a long while, he sounds like the confident tour guide. It's a far cry from his 1990 solo debut, Meet John Doe, on which he tried to wipe clean the slate and begin again as...a country artist. Indeed, that now-out-of-print album is the only thing in his past he would prefer remain buried; even now, it haunts him a little bit.

"As recent as three weeks ago, I played a radio show in San Diego, and as I was driving down there, I tuned in the station and heard an ad for the show," he says. "The promo said, 'He used to play music with punk band X, and now he makes his own music--and it's country.' And it's like, if Freedom Is... is a country record, I'm the fucking Queen of England. The first thing you do is the most lasting impression, and I don't have a lot in common musically with Dave Alvin or Jimmie Dale Gilmore. Nothing. I'm much more interested in rock stuff. It was where I was at at the time, but the newer records are more me, and Meet John Doe is more of a persona.

"I really kinda hate country music at this point. I'm not Merle Haggard. I don't wanna be. I wanna be me. I'd much rather listen to AC/DC than Merle Haggard. It's hard to be lumped into a musical genre you don't feel any affinity for. It's kind of a drag. I feel more of a connection to people like Aimee Mann or Elliott Smith than I do with Wilco or the whole No Depression clan." (This doesn't include his friends the Old 97's, with whom he's often shared stage and studio: The band recorded the song "Cryin' But My Tears Are Far Away" with Doe for the 1999 Knitters tribute album, and Doe graciously performed with Rhett Miller and Murry Hammond at last year's Dallas Observer Music Awards. In exchange for his appearance, Doe wanted only a glass of red wine.)

For a while, Doe tried to dodge his yesterdays: He never played X songs with his own band (The John Doe Thing, featuring a rotating door of musicians), for instance, as he tried to cajole an old audience to follow him down a new path. But he has since added such songs as "White Girl" and "The Hungry Wolf" to his set list. And his three-piece band features a drummer named D.J. Bonebrake. The actor has settled into his role: Meet John Doe, entertainer.

"Last year I started doing a few X songs, because I realized people like to hear it," he says. "It's fun. I don't really take it that seriously. I think it's a little self-absorbed to deny your past: 'That was bullshit. This is what I'm doing now.' You can do that in your bedroom, ya know? It doesn't mean you have to do an R&B show with dancers and shit, but if you play a couple of songs people know, what's the big deal? I'm like that. I'll go see Paul Westerberg and hear a Replacements song and go, 'Hey, I know that song!' Then he'll play something new, and I'll go, 'There's another song I don't know. Well, that's interesting, but I don't know it. That sucks. Don't know that either. Sucks.' It's just fun, and people dig it. I'm an entertainer. That's what I do."