Daniel Johnston is many things — a highly influential songwriter, a cult hero, a widely exhibited visual artist, an indie rock legend and a lo-fi pioneer — but he is anything but a consistent performer. At a show at last year's South by Southwest conference in Austin, Texas, Johnston barely made it through a shambling set with his new band, the Nightmares. He forgot words and chords, made a number of offensive comments and gestures and played songs that few (if any) members of the audience knew.

None of this was entirely surprising: Johnston has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and has spent his entire life chronicling his struggles with mental illness through art. For every creative triumph that Johnston has experienced (and there have been many), he's experienced a similar if not greater defeat, usually resulting directly from his vacillating condition. Without veering too far into the realm of exploitation (Johnston fans already occupy a precarious ground that lies at the crossroads between reverence, sympathy, contempt and wonder), I can recommend the 2005 documentary The Devil and Daniel Johnston, if you're not entirely familiar with Johnston's backstory.

Setting aside the considerable myth of Daniel Johnston, I can say that Daniel Johnston the man was very much present at the Black Cat on Saturday night, turning in a passionate, affecting set that touched on many of his catalog's highlights. Flipping through his trademark manila folder full of song lyrics, Johnston seemed at once both crippled by anxiety and completely at ease. Fists balled at his sides, he rarely made eye contact with the audience, choosing instead to focus his attention on the microphone in front of him. He did, however, manage to crack a few well-received jokes in between songs. "Alright Washington D.C., how's the president been?" he quipped at the end of opening number, "Mean Girls Give Pleasure", immediately adding that he doesn't pay much attention to politics. "Didn't the last two presidents look about the same?"

To the delight of fans who had hoped to witness Johnston sans accompaniment, Daniel played the first half of his set acoustic, strapping on a miniature guitar for the first few songs and then inviting friend Brett Hartenbach onstage to take over on the six-string. This proved to be a wise move, as Johnston's solo reading of "Living Life" was even more poignant than the recorded version, from the 1981 home-recorded cassette Songs of Pain. "Hold me like a mother would/Like I always knew somebody should," he sang, his trademark boyish tone now considerably weathered, "Though tomorrow/Don't look that good." Shaking with nervous energy and slurring his speech, Johnston seemed especially vulnerable, the weight of his words made manifest by his visible sincerity.

The songs he performed with Hartenbach proved equally rewarding. A reworked version of "Grievances" featured a intricate, fingerpicked guitar line, which managed to carry the song's simple melody without overpowering it. Johnston took the respite from guitar playing to focus on singing, yelling "Well I played the game but I failed the test/If I can't be a lover then I'll be a pest" into the microphone with singular focus, his voice cracking under the strain. Before taking a brief break, Johnston treated the audience to faithful readings of two of the best songs heard that night: his own "Hey Joe" and the Beatles' "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away". When introducing the latter, he saw fit to muse briefly (albeit, inaccurately) on the topic of his idols and primary influence. "They might all be dead but if you get the right record, the Beatles live eternally".

After the intermission, Johnston returned to the stage with local songsmith Benjy Ferree and his band, the accompaniment for the plugged-in portion of the night. Ferree and his players worked hard to support Johnston's songs without upstaging them; by and large they were extremely successful. "My fame/Is spreading 'cross the land/Now I got me a band" Johnston yelled on the rollicking "My Life is Starting Over Again", and he couldn't' have been more right — one can surmise that the popularity of his much-lauded documentary had something to do with the night's sold out crowd. "Casper the Friendly Ghost" sounded fantastic despite the notable absence of the pump organ that figured so prominently on Johnston's recordings from the mid 80s (the period widely acknowledged as his creative peak) and during two other old favorites, "Silly Love" and "Speedy Motorcycle", the audience responded enthusiastically with applause at every opportune moment.

For his last proper song (he led a sing along of "Devil Town" for the encore), Johnston performed a heartfelt rendition of "True Love Will Find You in the End", a song often earmarked as one of his finest accomplishments. Anchored by yet another of Hartenbach's brilliantly reworked guitar lines, the song plodded along steadily, with Johnston earnestly delivering lines that would sound cloyingly sentimental coming from just about anyone else. At the song's close, he looked as if he was almost on the verge of tears; a quick survey of the audience revealed that he wasn't the only one. For all of his talents, it could ultimately be Johnston's continued optimism, in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, that truly defines him as an artist. If you showed up at the Black Cat on Saturday night hoping to catch a glimpse of what makes Johnston such a compelling songwriter, chances are that despite it all, you left with a smile on your face.

Photos by Mehan Jayasuriya