the Urban Artist Group presents...

 

by:
James G. Carlson

When you spend so many years of your life traveling across this vast City Earth, through the dusty deserts of the southwest, the mountainous regions of the far north, small towns in the landlocked middle states, coastal beach communities overrun with tourists, the gray cities of the northeast, the sweaty and mysterious deep south, the numerous truck stops, rest areas, seedy bars and bad motels, all of those things become part of you somehow. The mind becomes like a photo album, retaining all of the significant images. All of the meaningful experiences and observations take up residence in the heart, while those of sadness and desperation lay heavy in the gut. And, in a sense, when you leave, you take with you all of the new and interesting and oftentimes wonderful individuals you come across along the way.
          For me, specifically, it was the tremendous Golden Gate Bridge, which isn?t golden at all, but more of an orange vermillion, perhaps a shade or two apart from the traces of lipstick on a woman?s napkin or cigarette. It was Jackson Square in New Orleans, with all the street performers, fortunetellers, novelty merchants, beggars and drunkards, artists painting portraits of passersby, and jazzmen playing their horns for spare change. Also in the Crescent City, other than the exquisite marriage of French and Spanish architecture throughout the Quarter, there stood the magnificent Saint Louis Cathedral, its dark spires offsetting its white base and stabbing at the Louisiana firmament, its cavernous interior lined with aisles of wooden pews, every side decorated with stained-glass windows and detailed statuary, while both ceiling and walls displayed baroque style murals and Renaissance-like frescoes. It was the 24-hour ashtray extravagance of the ever illuminated Las Vegas, with the wild overhead images flashing across Freemont Street?s electronic canopy, the frantic blur of movement up and down the Strip, and the nightmare ghettoes of North Town. It was the charming redbrick rowhomes and cobblestone streets (or Belgian Block streets, rather) of South Baltimore. It was the salty breeze blowing in off the ocean at the Atlantic City boardwalk, the string of lights at the shoreline, the moon above reflecting off of the dark water with its occasional white-capped swells rolling in toward the beach at high tide, smoky casino floors with the din of slot machine action, all-you-can-eat buffets, and good booze and bad women. It was the dark projects of North Philadelphia---home sweet home!---where one out of every ten in a line of homes, all in various stages of decline, was boarded up and posted as either ?seized? or ?condemned,? where the narrow streets were littered with broken glass and used hypos, where a steady flow of dope was sold anonymously through holes in walls and hinged mail slots and the rotting boards of old wooden fences, and where the rusted skeletal remains of stripped-down vehicles perched upon cinderblock pedestals in vacant lots. And it was the impossibly crowded sidewalks, gridlocked streets, monuments and rooftops crusted over with years of pigeon shit, and the incredibly tall buildings of midday Manhattan.
          Those are just a few of the things that now take up space in my head. And there are so many feelings assigned to each of those memories that it becomes much more than just a cerebral thing, but a deeply visceral thing as well.
          There are artists whose art is a direct result of having experienced and observed the world in such a way. And singer/songwriter David Dondero---a genuine troubadour of the City Earth---is definitely one of them.
          David Dondero?s existence became known to me through a series of musical discoveries some years back. You see, I was just getting into the whole ?indie folk? movement, as well as the many branches which grew from that particular trunk. Robert Sarazin Blake and Erik Petersen were just two of the singer/songwriters I was listening to at that time. And by researching their music and the combined ?folk? and ?punk? communities surrounding them, I was somehow exposed to David Dondero and his music.
          There was something raw and worldly about David Dondero?s music, something altogether soulful and intelligent, honest and down-to-earth, romantic and subversive and poetic. His music was completely without the boundaries by which so many other bands and singer/songwriters were limited. In every chord, every note, every word sung, as well as the accompanying instrumentation, it was more and more evident that the songs weren?t being written and performed out of some ambition to please the general consuming public, but instead out of a pure love for the song structure, out of having something real to say, and out of some inherent drive to satisfy each stage of what was ultimately a personal and artistic goal?you know, that thing that we all have which sort of tugs at the fabric of souls, quickens the beating of our hearts, and causes our minds to overflow their banks. It?s that which guides his skillful fingers over the fret board of his guitar, that which pushes the words up from deep within him, up through his throat, over his tongue and past his lips in great trembling bursts of vocal delivery. And I found those things impossible to ignore. I found them impossible not to appreciate immensely.
          But that was just the tip of the iceberg, as the saying goes. That is, those were only a few of the things that first attracted me to David?s music, as there was so much more to it than that. There is so much more to it than that.
          It has always been easy for me to see why David?s music appeals widely to the ?folk? and ?punk? countercultures, for it utter defies the ?pop? and ?rock? conventions of mainstream America in every way. After all, his sound is the world as he knows it, and it shows him for the human being he truly is. The world as he knows it is one long highway, from the numerous exits of which he may find himself at any moment in a place that seems vaguely familiar, probably because he?s been there before in his travels, but also because he has a very close relationship to the world as only a drifter can, and no matter where he ends up there are always slight variations of the same smoky barrooms he has known in other towns and cities, the same cheap motels, beautiful women, neon lights, streetlamps, all-night grease pot diners, shady pool halls, pawn shops, tattoo parlors, liquor stores, public parks, and networks of labyrinthine streets and alleyways, the same boulevards and avenues and main drags. And when I told David that I can?t help but notice that his lyrics seem so much like personal topics, like real life circumstances, presumably resulting from his experiences and observations while existing in this mad City Earth and doing what he does as a singer/songwriter, he remarked: That?s pretty much it. I tend to respond to what all has gone on before my eyes. Lately I have been going further into somewhat of a fantasy world, though?like with Double Murder Ballad Suicide.
          [Note: ?Double Murder Ballad Suicide? is the last track on David?s most recent record, ?Simple Love.?]
          You must understand, David is first and foremost an artist; a true folk artist of the City Earth. He is a bard of the streets, of the sidewalks and alleys, the barrooms and twenty-five-dollar-a-night motel rooms, beat vehicles enduring the seemingly endless miles, and the views from a thousand different windows in a thousand different places. His lyrics, which are often poetic, very well could have earned him a crown of laurels had he chosen a more academic path?though he is more the type to sport a baseball cap around his shaggy brown locks, or no covering at all. And besides, David?s lyrics are poetic in the same way that?well, in the way that Allen Ginsberg, the brilliant and revolutionary Beatnik poet, recognized Bob Dylan?s lyrics as that of a true poet.
David is also a remarkable songsmith. A troubadour of the Suicide Generation. A wandering minstrel of the strange and wonderful highway world through which he travels like the vagabond characters in Kerouac novels, always heading down that long, long road from one brief destination to the next, leaving his mark, leaving indelible impressions on those with whom he spent his time before moving on.
          Recently I had the opportunity to interview David Dondero for the first time, which undoubtedly qualified as one of those unforgettable experiences that lives on deep within one for the remainder of one?s life. After all, he is one of my favorite singer/songwriters, and it was certainly an honor and pleasure to interview him.
          For the sake of introductions, as well as to serve as a sort of precursor to the more specific material to follow, I asked David, quite simply, ?Who is David Dondero, not just as a singer/songwriter, but as a human being of this mad City Earth in which we all live??
          Well, he began, sometimes I?m not even sure. I get lost and then I see someone I know?a good friend?or I hear a song, or smell some smell. Then it all comes back: oh yeah, that?s who I am. I?m the steak and egg special at the Dixie Grill in Wilmington, North Carolina. Or I?m a shrimp burrito in the Mission. Sometimes I?m a McDonald?s dollar menu item, though. And sometimes I feel like sleeping forever.
I guess I?m just trying to figure out what it?s all about. Just trying to live and be content. I?m a restless person. I can?t seem to stay in one place too long. I?m not afraid of work. In fact, I enjoy manual labor at times. I?m not very interested in settling down or having kids, having a career, collecting things, or displaying all the books I?ve read on some shelf. I?d rather read them and hand them off, like a relay race to nowhere?just collecting tidbits of information for my grave.
          It wasn?t difficult for me to grasp David?s words. Partly he was just associating himself with the things of the world with which he was most familiar, the things that had become part of him, and the things that pointed out his likes and dislikes, his appetites and repulsions, his beliefs and values, his thoughts and feelings, his experiences and personality. Whether he realized it or not, his words showed me that he is a sentimentalist and somewhat of a romantic. But, then again, most artists and travelers are. They also showed me his sarcastic wit and inner complexity. Most of all, they showed me that he is both a true artist and a very important presence in the Underground Arts Movement.
          David Dondero was born in Duluth, Minnesota, which coincidentally was also the birthplace of Bob Dylan, another notable singer/songwriter in the history of the world. Since then, however, David has spread his wings and taken flight, so to speak, moving away from the nest and covering more territory in his young adulthood than most people see in an entire lifetime. All one would have to do to get an idea of the extent to which David has traveled and experienced the world would be to listen to his songs. It?s all there, like the chapters of a book, from his first solo release ?the Pity Party? (1999 on Ghostmeat Records) to his latest release ?Simple Love? (2007 on a division of Saddle Creek Records called Team Love).
          One of my favorite Dondero songs---?South of the South?---is a fluid narrative over a composition of perfectly chosen note combinations and subtle horn parts, with other marginal instrumentation like so many exhalations of cigarette smoke gathering in pungent ghost-like clouds under the dim barroom lights before thinning out into dispersing tendrils and vanishing altogether. ?South of the South? possesses something all its own, something that carries on its notes and chords and vocals the undeniable elements of real life and the highway world. In fact, I have thought to myself on more than one occasion since first hearing ?South of the South? that David Dondero?s music is probably what Jack Kerouac?s music would have sounded like, had he been a singer/songwriter and not a wordsmith. The lyrics of ?South of the South? recount experiences and observations having to do with various parts of the south, but most of all, as David explained to me in our interview, it was mainly inspired by how much he missed Florida at the time.
          I had moved out to San Francisco in 2000, he said. I had gone through a rough breakup and was longing for Florida again. I ended up going back and forth from San Francisco to Florida, eventually heading back to San Francisco to stay for a while. ?South of the South? was a bittersweet song reflecting on mostly good things in Florida, but a few troubles as well. I still find it to be a sweet place?one of my favorites. I still love all of my friends back there. And I miss them very much.
          In many ways I am able to relate to David?s music, especially in terms of my own personal and artistic experiences throughout the years. Of course, there have been other bands and singer/songwriters whose music has had a similar affect on me, bands and singer/songwriters such as: Jeff Mangum?s Neutral Milk Hotel, John Darnielle?s Mountain Goats, Robert Beatty?s Ghostwrite, Ben Barnett?s Kind of Like Spitting, Jeffrey Lewis, and of course Robert Sarazin Blake and Erik Petersen. They all have the same thing in common is what it all comes down to: their music speaks the language of the world. And David Dondero?s music speaks the language of the world unlike any band or singer/songwriter I have ever heard.
          Yes, the world speaks to us. All we need to do is pay attention.
          The evolution of David?s sound has seen many phases of development, especially taking into consideration his first band, Sunbrain, which he now remembers as?
          I got to put my whole body into it, jumping around like a maniac and basically making an ass out of myself, screaming and slamming things and pouring beer all over?having a great time! We were trying to be Fugazi but didn?t quite pull it off. We weren?t Straight Edge at all. It had more of a surf music thing going on.
          Following his departure from Sunbrain, David found himself in a new project called the Flatwheelers, which was very short-lived. The only recording they made was never officially released to the public. At that juncture, David was a musician without an endeavor, a potentially great songsmith without the complete formula for what would eventually add up to his self-titled project. He explained it like this?
          It was during that time that I met Tony Tidwell and Kenny Roby. That was back in 1990 or so. Kenny sang in a band called the Lubricators but went on to form Six String Drag. I lived with him briefly and he influenced me to pick up the acoustic guitar and write songs. It was awesome getting to hear him sing those songs in the living room. At the same time I was hanging out with Tidwell, who was in a band called the Push. We eventually played together in that band for a few years, with me on drums. Tony Tidwell also turned me on to writing songs on the guitar. He inspired me to go further into older music. In fact, I can credit him with turning me on to a lot of great stuff.
          Obviously those were the more formative years of David?s musicianship and songwriting. But ultimately, as he confessed to me in our interview, it was the tragic death of his girlfriend, Lisa Dawn Scott, in October of 1993 that drew a lot of songs out of him, particularly the song ?Recover? on Sunbrain?s ?Good Side? album.
          That was a huge incident in my life, admitted David, and I believe that it directed me down the path of music. It was meeting Lisa that encouraged me to do it as well. That is, she taught me a lot of chords and also how to fingerpick.
          Indeed, it can be said that a work of art represents the parts of the artist most affected by that which inspired him or her to create it. As such, each piece of art is an extension of the artist. We are all inspired by different things, true, and David Dondero just so happens to be one of those daring and extraordinary artists whose compass points in the various directions of his many inspirations, each in its own turn, and for all to see, whether it be good or bad. To create such personal and remarkably descriptive and honest songs, David has no doubt had to employ his mind, his heart, and his soul. And it is apparent that he does just that. It is apparent that he puts everything that he is into his songs.
          Take David?s first release, ?the Pity Party,? for example, which he considers his most rewarding record of all. For David, it was quite a struggle to get that album out. At the time he had no money. Nor did he have a record deal. The songs on ?the Pity Party? were a fresh batch of songs written in the months following the disbandment of the ephemeral Flatwheelers. David had made the decision to ?go it alone,? which was probably the best thing he could have done for his musical career, for lack of something better to call it. He was admittedly pretty ?green? at the whole songwriter thing. Fortunately for him, though, Terry Johnson of This Bike Is A Pipe Bomb gave him a job at Sluggo?s in Pensacola, Florida, allowing him to do an ?open mic? night on Sundays, which he called ?Flat Broke Folk.? And doing that helped him finish the songs that would soon after appear on ?the Pity Party? record. Unlike most bands and singer/songwriters, David ended up trading labor for studio credit, helping build the Chase Park Transduction Studio in Athens, Georgia, by installing the wood floor, tacking up the trimwork, laying carpet, and doing some of the painting. And that was how ?the Pity Party? album came to be. Andy LeMaster produced the album, and it was recorded over a short period of two days. That was David?s ticket out of Pensacola. It was a reason to go on tour, which was what David wanted to do at that point.
          Speaking of touring, it was also due to Terry Johnson and This Bike Is A Pipe Bomb that David learned how best to go on the road, touring about the country, as he had a brief stint in the band as their drummer. But that was when TBIAPB was in its infancy, before their sound became the ?country? and ?punk rock? hybrid which gained them a huge underground following for the years that they were a band. [Note: I now hear rumors that they have gotten back together, and that they are planning a new release on Plan It X Records.]
          ?Spider West Myshkin & a City Bus? was the next installment of Dondero?s solo material. A decidedly noticeable change takes place on this album in comparison to ?the Pity Party.? In truth, I think the ?Spider West Myshkin & a City Bus? record was an exercise in David truly finding his voice as a singer/songwriter. Not only that, but I also think that he was just beginning to get his footing on the treacherous incline that was his arduous climb to self realization and artistic maturity. Quite simply, he was finding his place in the world, not just as a singer/songwriter, but as a human being of the City Earth as well. To me, the entire record is brilliant, though there are a few songs that stand up just a little taller than the rest, such as: ?Ode to a 1973 Chevy Open Road,? ?I Had to Get Back East,? and the bonus track ?Pre-Invasion Jitters.?
          Apparently, David has some very strong socio-political thoughts and feelings, and he is also somewhat of a protest singer. More and more, I find that the spirits of the old folkster radicals, such as Rovics and Gutherie and Dylan and Ochs, live on in the new folksters of the City Earth. And like much of their music, David Dondero?s music is proving itself equally timeless.
After ?Spider West Myshkin & a City Bus? came ?Shooting at the Sun with a Water Gun.? Unlike his former albums, this one was released on Future Farmer Records, as would be the one to follow, ?the Transient.? Both were exceptionally great records. In fact, those two albums were home to some of David?s best songs, like ?If You Break My Heart,? ?the Real Tina Turner,? ?the Living & the Dead,? ?Ashes on the Highway,? and ?Going Back to Wilmington.?
?South of the South? was the next step for David. And it was unquestionably a masterpiece, through and through. Truth be told, it was undoubtedly my favorite Dondero record of all, and still is to this day.
          David?s most recent release, ?Simple Love,? possesses something altogether different from his previous albums. It?s a more orchestral record, for one thing. David was backed by a full band for this endeavor, which added a fuller, more technical and polished effect. There is also something rather country-esque about the songs on the record, more so than on his earlier releases. There is also something slightly ?rock n? roll? about them, which is pretty unique to the overall David Dondero experience. Now, he hasn?t abandoned his ?folk? roots by any means. That part of his sound remains intact. He has simply added to it. Like a garden that is tended to religiously, David?s music has become an Eden of sound?well, perhaps an Eden on the outskirts of a Sodom & Gomorrah?s city limits, for his sound is both rustic and urban, something that can be simultaneously appreciated by the anarcho-naturalists of Thoreau, by Whitman?s working class proletariats, by Kerouac?s indulgent and sentient wanderers of the great open road, and by Allen Ginsberg?s bearded Zen Poet Revolutionaries. Yes, David is ever building upon the foundation that began all those years ago with ?the Pity Party.? And I am confessedly excited to imagine what might come next from this great American troubadour.
          When I asked David what changes had taken place in his life to effect such significant changes in the overall sound and feel of his music, he responded by saying?
          I have lived on and off up in Alaska for summer work three times now. My Dad lives there. Last time I went, I was working on the ?Simple Love? songs. I wrote many of them while living in the station wagon (dragon wagon) in Whitier, Alaska. I got a job as a bartender at the Whitier Inn, and after my shifts I would sleep out in the parking lot because the tunnel back to Anchorage closed at 11 o? clock at night, leaving me stuck there. It was kind of a nice time actually. But I was longing for the city after a couple of weeks. So I returned to find that I was dead to her and thus moved onto New York City. That?s when the shit went down: the news that the Lone Rose had passed away due to an overdose. That was the final straw, the heartbreak that caused San Francisco to be a bleak, cold place for me?haunting me. Only now, after all that has happened, it is returning to a place where I want to hang out again. During that time in my life I lost six friends to drugs and alcohol. It was horrible. It made me want to live differently. It made me want to go back to Wilmington again?try to clean up my act. ?Simple Love? is not simple at all.
          When I first learned that I would be doing an article on David Dondero, I pulled out my record collection and listened to all of his albums in order. I had never done that before. In a way, it was almost like listening to a continuous storyline detailing David?s life. An autobiography of sorts. Each song was a chapter, each line of lyrics a sentence, each chorus a paragraph, each verse a page, and somehow they all came together into one cohesive narrative. Together, the records were an account of David?s experiences and observations, thoughts and feelings, triumphs and failures, celebrations and laments, love and loss, hardships and times of ease, genius and folly, sanity and madness, hurt and recovery, death and resurrection, complexity and simplicity, and all of the other things that have gone into making David?s life what it is today.
          I have traced Dondero?s route across the map of America?s mad highways just by listening to his songs. And it is truly a wonderful place.
          Yes, the world speaks to us. All we need to do is pay attention.