Something About Jonathan

But there's plenty of evidence -- 25 years' worth -- that the hateful teen was the real aberration. And there are theories. Maybe Richman was simply tired of his old songs. Maybe he just wasn't cut out to be the founder of punk rock. Or maybe his first records -- sincere, deliberate attacks against what his audience expected or wanted -- are the ultimate proof that punk is more attitude than sound. Or maybe he realized something extremely personal about his own life that he felt he had to answer to in his art. "He wasn't as bitter and pubescent as he was when he wrote some of those wonderful, wonderful songs," says Allan Mason. "Constantly, it was a 'turn it down' thing. He wanted to have his words heard."

Richman has answered the bitterness question a few times. In "Affection" he sings about changing from an embittered teen into a young man filled with childlike awe. "But then I relaxed a little/ And I met more folks who liked me/ And they helped me to reach out and give/ And that helped me to get more of affection/ And that helped me to live."

What has happened in Richman's life since remains vague. He's recorded steadily, mostly for Rounder. His work remains interesting, if rarely essential. He'll release a terrific box set someday: Almost every record has a few wonderful songs, from "Since She Started to Ride" on Jonathan Goes Country in 1990 to the silly "Vampire Girl" and the gorgeous "Amorcito Corazon" on 1995's You Must Ask the Heart.

There are hints about his life on the records he has generated during his career. He's talked about trips to places like Israel and Bermuda, finding calypso, loving the Velvet Underground and Harpo Marx. He's sung about riding the bus and walking through Boston at twilight. He longed for "That Summer Feeling" on Jonathan Sings! in 1983, and again on I, Jonathan in 1992. He was married to a woman named Gail ("Gail Loves Me") on Modern Lovers 88. Then, on Surrender to Jonathan in 1996 his "little girl had a full-time daddy now."

The state of his life these days is a public mystery. Richman wasn't wearing a ring a couple of weeks ago in the Richmond. The saddest song on the forthcoming I'm So Confused is "Love Me Like I Love," where he sings, "When I was 6 years old/ I never dreamed I'd grow up to be so isolated." His voice almost breaks as he repeats the word "isolated."

Back at the restaurant, Richman picks from three separate plates of food and a bowl of sweet and sour soup. (As he says in one of his spoken-word monologues, he eats with gusto, damn! You bet.) I ask Richman if he wants to talk about his new record. "Sure," he says. "I don't know much about it other than the title of it. It's called I'm So Confused, and it will be out in October." I ask what the songs are like. "Well I don't know -- see I'm not so good at talking about stuff like that."

Produced by the Cars' Ric Ocasek, whom Richman's known since the early '70s, the album is a 12-song romp through almost every genre and theme that Richman has explored for the past 25 years. Although distributed by the very major Warner Bros., Vapor Records, which is co-owned by Neil Young and his manager, Elliott Roberts, is giving Richman indie-label freedom. ("It's not like I'm going to tell Jonathan about writing," says Roberts. "He's an artist.")

To some extent I'm So Confused is an album that could only be made after Richman had passed through a dozen minor creative cycles -- simple '50s rock 'n' roll, island melodies, surfy guitar, and plastic-stringed flamenco -- and at least three major periods. Ocasek's production ditches the horn sections that brightened Surrender and replaces them with occasional shrill synthesizers. Drummer Tommy Larkins' quick shuffle is still there and Richman's sharp guitar lines often capture the same sharp, twangy sound that appeared first on "Egyptian Reggae," the Modern Lovers' instrumental European hit single recorded in 1976.

I'm So Confused begins with a new version of "When I Dance," off 1986's It's Time for Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers, which uses a loping, clip-cloppy beat that wouldn't have sounded out of place on Jonathan Goes Country. "Nineteen in Naples" -- a rockin' four-four yarn about a European vacation he took as a teen-ager -- is thematically similar to 1991's self-deprecating and hilarious "Monologue About Bermuda." On "Naples" he admits that he was "overintellectual" and "such a little brat" in that period. Both songs help explain the disparity between his life stages -- those days as an original Modern Lovers and that transformation into a little airplane who zoomed about the stage.

The pretty "Affection" is rerecorded with more unnecessary synthesizers and a corny '90s reference to group hugs while the harsh "True Love Is Not Nice" gets borrowed from the There's Something About Mary soundtrack.