At The State Room on Thursday night, two artists, Dean Johnson and Emily Hines, came to Salt Lake City with the mission of delivering Americana/folk-influenced country music. While Emily Hines opened the evening with a whisper-soft presence that brought the room to stillness, Dean Johnson peeled back layers of self-awareness, regret, and emotional candor. Anchored by songs from his debut and his latest release, I Hope We Can Still Be Friends – a record that’s shaping up to be a real AOTY contender – Johnson offered an emotionally raw set that held up a mirror to those who listened.
Emily Hines took the stage with a presence that was incredibly soft and tender, commanding stillness from the crowd for the duration of her set. Her solo performance was simple, but the audience’s complete focus on her minimal setup spoke volumes. There was something magnetic in her restraint that held the room’s attention.
Dean Johnson opened his set with a few songs from his debut album Nothing For Me, Please. Immediately, you knew that you were in for a set filled with sincerity. Between songs, Johnson offered candid disclaimers: some tracks might make him sound like a jerk or bad person, he warned, as they’re written in first person. Others, he assured us, are “cute songs” meant to be enjoyed at face value. This self-awareness is what made the set feel even more truthful and coming from a place of introspection.
When you listen to Dean Johnson’s music, your first thought might be, “Who hurt this man?” But as you listen more, a more complicated question arises: “Who did he hurt?” His songs carry a sense of reckoning, a plea for forgiveness that shows up in his debut and continues in his latest album, I Hope We Can Still Be Friends. The title alone suggests a hope for civility between himself and his fractured relationships.
Johnson, now 52, carries a subtle sadness in his demeanor. Not in a way that demands pity, but in a way that invites empathy. It’s clear he’s lived a life marked by regrets and mistakes, and he’s here to tell that story through his music. He’s a master of language, able to write lyrics that cut deep while singing with a beauty that makes sorrow feel strangely comforting. His voice, paired with his storytelling, creates a space where vulnerability feels safe. In addition, Johnson’s band was dialed-in, with Sera Cahoone on drums who also produced his latest album.
As The State Room sometimes goes, the crowd swayed between moments of rowdy energy and complete stillness. But when Johnson played, even the most distracted corners of the room seemed to direct their focus back to the stage. His music has that kind of power: the ability to grab attention through honesty. Dean Johnson is a reminder that we all have a dark side. But through his music, he shows that being able to reckon and accept those parts of ourselves can turn into something beautiful. It was refreshing seeing an artist put it all out there, while also allowing us listeners the space to reflect on this message.
Emily Hines photos:
Dean Johnson photos:
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