17 December 29, 2022–January 4, 2023 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents Month XX–Month XX, 2014 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER | CONTENTS | UNFAIR PARK | SCHUTZE | FEATURE | NIGHT+DAY | CULTURE | MOVIES | DISH | MUSIC | CLASSIFIED | AGONY AND ECSTASY How Jonathan Tyler learned to tune out the noise and turn up the sounds in his head. BY VINCENT ARRIETA W hen Jonathan Tyler wrote the lyric, “The time wasn’t right, but it never is,” it was a strange time in his life. Some would call it a period of transition: He had just broken up with his girlfriend at the time, an actress with whom he had relocated to Los Angeles from his home in Dallas, and he was high and dry in a strange land, get- ting sober. He was also in the midst of a battle with At- lantic Records over the creative direction of the follow-up to his major label debut album. That period of transition was nearly a de- cade ago. The song, “Disappear,” has been out for more than seven years, but that lyric continues to resonate with the latest ups and downs in its author’s life. Tyler has just released Underground For- ever, his fourth full-length LP and first in seven years. The 37-year-old singer-song- writer has been a fixture of the Texas music scene for more than 15 years now, since the independent release of his first album Hot Trottin’ in 2007 as a part of the five-piece rock band Jonathan Tyler & The Northern Lights. In 2009, JTNL signed with Atlantic Records, and the following spring, the band released its major label debut album, Pardon Me. Today, Tyler is in a much different place. He’s cooking salmon and Brussels sprouts in his South Austin home, surrounded by plants, dozens of records, his dog Cash, his cat Boo, a giant taxidermy alligator and a whole lotta peace of mind. “Crocodile,” he clarifies with a chuckle as he serves dinner, not disclosing much about the immobile creature that occupies about a fifth of his living room’s floor space. “It’s from Africa.” As opposed to the chapters of his life that accompanied his previous releases — the na- ïve kinetic energy that fueled Hot Trottin’, the youthful exuberance that accompanied the major label backing of Pardon Me or the trial- by-fire rebirth that inspired his independent follow-up Holy Smokes — Underground For- ever was born out of a growing dissatisfaction with the world around him as opposed to personal woes. It has subsequently led him to a place of great personal peace. “I do feel like I’m in a good place, though it’s been work to get here,” he says as he cues up an album by Adrianne Lenker and runs his hands through his prematurely gray hair. “I’m still trying.” Tyler is a curious interview subject. He seems more keenly aware of his answers and how they may be taken in and out of context than most contemporary musicians. While answering questions, he has a tendency to pause for longer-than-usual amounts of time to make sure that what he’s about to say is the correct thing. Any conversation with Tyler spins out into a fractal web of subjects, with tangents in abundance. Even then, he tends to end many of his more complex statements with words like, “I don’t know, man.” It feels as if there’s an eraser-dust cloud trailing behind his words as he tries to soften their impact. Sometimes he speaks in aphorisms, like “Rock ‘n’ roll, blues and country are all the same thing wearing different clothes.” Of- ten, he’s the one asking most of the ques- tions — some directed at himself, some rhetorical. Onstage, Tyler embraces neither rock star bravado nor folkie recluse. If anything, he is at his most vulnerable and awkward between songs. There’s no golden god pos- turing, just the same Jonathan you get over breakfast and conversation. Adorning Tyler’s house is an array of Western décor: hats, feathers, turquoise. Musical instruments, records and books line the nooks and crannies of the living room, with a massive studio-quality sound system at the front. It’s a fairly standard Southwest- ern home, other than the crocodile. That record collection is a large and di- verse one, full of the kind of staples you’d ex- pect among any singer-songwriter or rock ‘n’ roller’s collection: Exile On Main St., The Byrds’ Sweetheart of the Rodeo, History: America’s Greatest Hits, The Faces’ Mike Brooks ▼ Music >> p18 Jonathan Tyler shares his song at Neil Fest.
