On "Cicada" that means ordering an array of figures diverse enough to seem like a string of bizarre accidents. It's only after a few listens that its logic surfaces. Like the punching-bag ending of "Jaco Morocco" (which Johnson's eight-year-old daughter helped invent by throwing a couple of tuning pegs out of sync), it suggests that mischievousness is next to godliness.
"A guitar is something to be screwed with," he offers, "whether it's machine heads or strings or whatever. Because there are no words to my songs, I try to create non-guitar oriented sounds that draw the listener in. My naivete gives me a certain number of extra tools to work with." That accounts for the repertoire of some 30 alternate tunings. And that also accounts for the profound physicality that marks such pieces as Prometheus Meets the Digital Age," where Johnson pounds the fretboard with enough speed and precision to approximate an agitated computer loop.
And that definitely accounts for the way he achieves an Eastern-tinged delicacy out of "Empitsu No Uta." Placing a pencil under the strings and-wiggling it up to the last fret, the guitarist creates a second bridge, and builds himself a makeshift koto.
"Yeah, we almost had to put a disclaimer on that one," he laughs. "A bunch of grunge kids saw me doing it, and when they tried it at home their moms complained-thought they'd ruin the instrument Guess I'm not a very good influence."