Published: March 1999

Working alone can be a drag. In general, artists need a good deal of outside stimuli to feed a ravenous muse. But isolation isn't without its benefits. We all know what kind of gorgeous fantasias came to Brian Wilson when he was locked away in his room. And I bet that even though Captain Beefheart's exiled himself in Death Valley, his brain is ticking away big time. Some people just need a lot of room.
Solitude's been nothing but a boon for Richard Leo Johnson. Growing up in the Arkansas wilderness, the 40-something guitarist has had minimal outside influences. Each of the tunes on his new Fingertip Ship (Metro Blue) bursts with ideas Johnson's been honing in private since his preteen days. Except for some high school hijinks, he's never been part of a band, and his only teacher was an oil rigger whose meager suggestions were offered back when the Monkees were still in prime time. Left to his own devices, the acoustic guitarist has developed a singularity most performers dream about.
"For better or worse my stuff is a process of natural invention," offers Johnson. "I have almost no theotetical knowledge of chords and scales. Having chosen the scenic route over the expedient route, I've spent millions of hours practicing, and found something I think of as my own. What's important is developing your skills to a place where you can freely facilitate your ideas and feelings. Who really cares how you get there?"
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