John Roseboro writes and records nearly everything himself, but Johnny sounds full. Fretless bass, flugelhorn, saxophone, a sprawling choir, the arrangements pull from bossa nova and Brazilian pop without mimicking either. The tempos stay relaxed, the guitar parts fingerpicked and clean, but the production has weight. Roseboro's voice sits low in the mix, conversational rather than projected, which suits the material. These are songs about relationships falling apart, about faith tested by circumstance, about being broke and unmoored in a new city.
The twelve tracks were written monthly across 2021 and 2022, and that pacing shows. Some feel resolved, others still raw. "Gethsemane" leans into gospel structure. "Freak" strips back to bass and Rhodes. "Violent Crimes" closes the record with layered vocals and a slower pulse. The Haitian-American Brooklyn artist cites years working as a mortician and time spent living with the Amish as formative, which might explain the record's uneasy mix of intimacy and distance. It is not an easy listen, but it is a deliberate one.
For people who want singer-songwriter records that take their time and do not resolve neatly. Fans of Field Medic or King Krule's quieter moments will recognise the approach.
