Daniel Johnston feels better right now than he has in a long hard row of years. He is writing music again and playing out more than ever before, inching back into public consciousness and college radio play. His deeply lined face reflects the weight of his legend-- a loner, a sorry entertainer, wounded by folklore and bound by inescapable cycles of mania and depression. No longer the young innocent waif who captivated strangers with his guileless persistence and sincere presentation, Daniel is fully grown, fully grayed, with a voice deeper and crackling with cigarette smoke and liters of Coca-Cola, unable to reach the eerie, space alien falsetto of the early tapes. But it is a voice with less range and more promise, mournful, hopeful, and forever honest. The legend turns a new page.

From carnival corn dog boy to mad, underground rocker to dark hill-country lone star, Daniel's career has already spanned nearly twenty years. At 38, he is considered one of the pioneers of alternative music, not because he deliberately explored a different direction than the synthetic music of his time, but because he compulsively followed his heart, expressing the contents of his soul with a purity that has yet to be matched by anyone in rock 'n roll. In this vast and jumbled soundscape of a century, Daniel's music continues to find new listeners, attracted to and astonished by the clarity of his vision, which has never clouded throughout the dimmest years of his life. Part of his legend is the do-it-yourself determination in the dissemination of the early tapes. In true indie spirit long before "indie" was a recognizable term, Daniel recorded his music onto a cheap ghetto blaster and endlessly dubbed tapes, giving them away like business cards to strangers on the streets of Austin, Texas. Some listened to the tapes. Some formed a circle of supporters who raised Daniel's music to a higher level of accessibility. Through dumb luck timing and the support of friends, Daniel was given his first shot at the holy grail MTV mainstream long before he was ready. He cracked up again and again, but kept trying. He watched himself on television from the state institution. He sputtered between manic creative outbursts and dead depressive years.

The stories are well-known. In fact they are repeatedly told in song. From his desperate unrequited love for a brown-haired girl named Laurie to his many breakdowns, secret longings and sacred childhood icons, Daniel has held nothing of himself back from his music. This is the source of his appeal, the absolute laying bare of emotion, cutting through to pure human connection in a simple form, a lonely song, for anyone to understand or sing along, and many have.

From Sonic Youth to Kurt Cobain, Eddie Vedder to Michael Stipe, Daniel has enjoyed the support of legions of fans and is regarded as one of rock's best-known secrets, the musician's cult musician, whose art is appreciated for its utter lack of artifice and the undeniable simple brilliance of its melodic structure. But the main reason Daniel is so highly regarded by those who know his music is that he is what he sings. There is no real distinction between the artistic persona and the man. This is a dangerous thing, something to be admired but not emulated, a there-but-for-the-Grace-of-God bystander's thrilling recognition of The Real Thing, and it is both Daniel's blessing and his curse. He is unable to manipulate or rehabilitate his image because everything is already in the public record, sung in his own voice. He is admired because he's not faking it, but he will probably always remain on the cult fringe level of music because he can't fake it. He is what he sings he is.

But now he's sure that science has saved him. A new antidepressant has allowed his most sustained creative effort since his illness manifested. His most recent music explores many of the same themes, but with the production values and technical support that the songs have always deserved. Now a seasoned, mature, properly medicated performer, Daniel is ready for his fabled second chance.

Visual art was his original mode of creative expression, and Daniel has continued to draw the signature cast of characters who crop up in his songs and populate his complicated cartoon myth world. Art and music together express Daniel's complete vision, and although every musical release has contained examples of his artwork, he is just beginning to gain widespread recognition as a visual artist. Through the help of friends, most notably ex-manager Jeff Tartakov, artist/musician Jad Fair, and painter Ron English, who is also the author's husband, Daniel is enjoying a blossoming career in a creative medium much less physically taxing than music. During the years he was unable to perform, his drawings were featured in many respected group exhibitions in the United States and Europe, where he developed a huge cult following.

Lithium and Olanzipine are his duty, cigarettes and soda pop his vice. He sits on his front porch in a small Texas town and waits for visitors. More and more have come by lately. He is feeling strong and stable, able to entertain, jam and record with good friends. For a man with as many ups and downs as he's had, Daniel has maintained a surprisingly high number of long-term relationships. He has reached out to friends to sustain him emotionally and artistically, resulting in many collaborative efforts and interpretations by others of his work. In effect this has kept his name, his music and art in the collective consciousness. His songs have been included in movie and television soundtracks, and college radio and certain eclectic stations like Los Angeles's KCRW and Jersey City's WFMU have given his music consistent airplay.

Whether Daniel will ever break through into the mainstream seems a less relevant question than whether his music will continue to reach new listeners. Hopefully it will be plugged into the permanent record, spun into the musical continuum, something rarely heard but instantly recognizable, the shivering warble of a sparkling American Boy, with comic books and wild wide eyes, something weird, real and good. This is Daniel Johnston.