Jack Evan Johnson readies affecting solo debut

It’s a great Las Vegas record about not always wanting to be in Las Vegas.

“How does that work?” asks the man who made it, Jack Evan Johnson, pondering this apparent contradiction over a Budweiser at the Dive Bar, a room as dark as this late Tuesday afternoon is bright.

“How does that make any sense?” he wonders aloud as a D.R.I. tune roars belligerently from the jukebox, contemplation countered by tone-deaf thrash.

Johnson doesn’t have an answer to either question.

Nor does he need one.

Instead, he has “Self Made Man,” his deeply felt solo debut.

It’s both a personal and musical culmination for Johnson, who, up to this point, has mostly made his bones as frontman for raucous, amp- savaging rockers Dude City.

Tender and wistful in places, defiant and blaring in others, the record sees Johnson fully excavating his Americana roots. There are several acoustic-based tunes, some sweet sounding, some sad-eyed, enhanced with fiddle and pedal steel, instruments that heighten the longing that saturates Johnson’s voice.

Emotionally, sonically, it’s an album devoid of inhibitions and filters alike.

“Maybe this record is who I’ve always been,” says Johnson, a slightly scruffy presence with a pair of shades tucked into the neck of his T-shirt. “Maybe I’ve finally figured out how to showcase the emotion that I’m feeling instead of just turning up the guitar and jumping around.”

Johnson likens “Self Made Man” to a combination of Bruce Springsteen’s classic third and fourth records, “Born to Run” and “Darkness on the Edge of Town,” the former mythologizing the promise of the open road, the latter a grittier affair about the challenges of overcoming tough circumstances in life — and not always succeeding.

This duality powers a significant part of “Self Made Man,” its title track a knowing nod to the struggles of the working-class musician. In this same vein, one of the album’s most invigorated tunes, “Heart Attack,” ponders leaving this town for greener pastures.

Ultimately, though, Johnson stuck around, enlisting a crew of Las Vegas-based musicians to help him see the album through, including veterans such as drummer Bruce Harper, who once played with Chuck Berry, and pianist Charlie Shaffer, who has been playing locally in rock bands since the ’50s.

“I never wanted to make a Las Vegas record,” Johnson says, “but this record wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t live here.”

An award-winning journalist, Johnson worked as a reporter for the Boulder City Review for years until recently leaving to focus on music full time.

Johnson’s journalism background is palpable more than ever on “Self Made Man”: He’s a compelling storyteller, whether he’s spinning the tale of a piece of jewelry on one of his hands (“Old Turquoise Ring”) or recounting the end of days of a man found dead in a cheap Vegas hotel room with $80,000 stashed in a dresser drawer (“Gypsy Joe”).

“I think this record is me realizing, ‘Oh, I’m a storyteller, just not in my music,’ and sort of connecting those dots,” he says. “It took me a long time to realize that.”

“Self Made Man” is full of such revelations, not all of them reassuring.

Sometimes when you chase your dreams, you merely end up out of breath, and in going for broke, and Johnson may, indeed, end up broke.

He no longer has a steady paycheck, but he does have a new touring van and plans to spend much of the foreseeable future on the road, beginning with a tour kickoff show Friday at The Bunkhouse.

“One day I’m gonna wake up, and I’m gonna have everything,” he sings on “Heart Attack.”

By the sound of “Self Made Man,” though, one could argue that he already does.

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476. Find him on Twitter: @JasonBracelin