When musicians proclaim their latest album to be their best, it often pays to regard such boasting as artistic exuberance, a by-product, perhaps, of the completion of a project into which much time - and sometimes money - has been poured.
However, Greg Johnson is not prone to boasting.
Back in 2001, when his collection The Best Yet was released, he was quick to point out the clue residing in that last word.
It meant there were more songs to come, some of which might be even better.
This week, Johnson released his eighth album, not counting that best-of collection.
Titled Seven Day Cure, it features a dozen songs that, at first listen, wash gently over the ears.
Give it more time and a couple of things become clear: Johnson's voice is way up in the mix and the songs are lush yet have plenty of space within them.
As he says, it could well be his best work.
The Los Angeles-based troubadour arrived back in New Zealand last Friday with his long-time musical partner, guitarist Ted Brown.
The pair embark on a tour of intimate North Island venues next month.
On the phone from Auckland earlier this week, Johnson apologises to South Island fans, explaining that time and money precluded a longer visit.
He hopes to return and play again in late summer, when he will bring his American wife.
Wife? Yes, the man with a reputation for wining and dining, "trying to find the love of my life", has managed just that.
He's been married to Kelli for 18 months.
"It was quite accidental," he says, adding, "I didn't realise how great marriage was until I tried it. I didn't realise how much time I spent chasing girls . . . how much effort and angst that involved."
Thus Johnson is in a good space. Seven Day Cure is evidence of that.
Though his well-honed lyrics touch on love, friendship and homesickness, the overall theme is of reflection, of taking stock.
Asked if the album is also something of a one-fingered salute to past knockers, the 42-year-old songsmith agrees.
"You are on the money. I'm not entirely sure who it is aimed at, but you are exactly right. It is a realisation that it is music that has been constant. I think I've been distracted by so much stuff: industry and managers trying to tell you this, lawyers and record companies collapsing and me surviving and clinging on.
"I'm pretty comfortable now in my own skin. There is a realisation that it is too damn late to do anything else anyway, so I'd better enjoy what I've got.
"I'm not as young as I was. My hair is a bit thinner; my skin is starting to sag a bit here and there. You're not really the young man, but at least you do have the benefit of all that wisdom and experience.
"I have to say suddenly everything doesn't seem quite as important. Nothing worries me these days, to be quite honest. I tend to just let it bounce off."
Johnson is particularly happy with his singing this time around.
Previously, his voice has been buried in the mix a little.
This time, it's loud and proud, largely due to the fact he produced and mixed Seven Day Cure.
Taking the reins also meant he wasn't tied into someone else's schedule.
"I've done eight albums. I've sat in studios longer than probably 95% of other musicians so I figured I know what I'm doing . . . I think engineers have historically tried to make it sound more mysterious than it really is.
"The reality is, if it sounds good, it probably is.
"I think I've always been pretty confident in the lyrical content, but as a singer I'm more confident.
"Ted reckons I've got nodes. I don't know if that's what it is. When you're a singer, you've got to be confident; you can't do it half-heartedly. That has taken quite a while to learn but, oh well, better late than never."
Seven Day Cure follows the slightly darker 2006 album Anyone Can Say Goodbye and 2004 effort Here Comes The Caviar.
With funding assistance from NZ On Air, it is released here through EMI. Johnson has put it out on his own label, Johnson Music America, in the US, where he has also established a music publishing company since emigrating to Los Angeles in 2002.
"That's where the income is, really. That's what pays the rent. It has been six years of my own work," he says, adding he has just found out two of his songs are to feature in a new Dustin Hoffman film.
Though the prospect of opportunities, the chance to connect with industry players, lured Johnson to LA - he met Burt Bacharach last year - Johnson is well aware of the work required to break into the big time.
"It is difficult to keep it going because it does involve a certain amount of capital even to travel.
"I had a really good thing rolling in Boston, but even that costs money to fly over there and back. You can't drive - it'd cost even more.
"The whole radio thing is a different ballgame as well, but I probably have 15-20 stations across the States that are still playing various tracks and I can contact them. As soon as I get back, I'm going to start working on that and I have a manager in New York who is working on a strategy to get that going.
"At the same time, I'm not too worried about this idea about being the giant act. I kind of realise that it isn't going to happen in that sense and my best chance is to just stick at what I do . . .
"I've really enjoyed playing music again in a way that I haven't done in years - just for the sake of it - just picking up the guitar again and playing . . . little gigs, ones that don't even have to pay money. I don't care. I just want to play."
