You know that douschebag that walks around your town with an acoustic guitar and plays songs chemically engineered to be liked despite hackneyed lyrics and a penchant for cliched musicality? Bring him into your house, and he'll play on your piano some shitty ballad that's basically his acoustic work but (OMG) slower and (OMFG) even more vulnerable and cheesy? Yeah, well if that douschebag released an album, it would be Freedy Johnston's Rain on the City, one with almost as much uninspired, chick-baiting gobbledygook as that of a Jason Mraz concert. What might make Johnston worse than Mraz, though, is that Mraz knows that his music has little depth. It would appear that Johnston really believes this shit is inspiring people. And if you're somehow encapsulated by Rain on the City's depressing blandness, you have no one to blame but yourself.