Hello Dave, I just walked to work.  I heard you enjoy Camaros.  I've never driven a Camaro.  I wish I had Camaro.  I would have driven it to work today…I guess that's not much of a question.  I see you're from Camdem Maine?  What made you settle there?  What did you do yesterday in Camdem Maine?

Why didn't you call me?  It's just as well - you'll outlive all those people driving. My first car was a 1969 Camaro, an orange piece of crap, and it was glorious.  $475 from Joey Hulse, the front smashed in.  I've never had a better car.  I ended up selling it and buying a 1969 Cutlass convertible - we used to ride around Boston with the top down in the snow - ah youth.  I sold the Cutlass and lived in the band van for a month, and then we moved into 52 Hopedale Street in Allston.  Sorry - what band?  the Trademarks, 1980 or so. Hey - it's early.  Where are you?  Who are you.  Coffee?

Dave Morrison
3 Park Street
Camden ME 04843

Actually I am from Reading MA, but I tell people Boston because that's where my heart is.  Then I lived in NY way too long.  The band I was in had played a club in Camden years ago called Mister Kites, this kind of working class bar across from the police station.  So later, when my wife is looking for a place to vacation and says You ever heard of Camden?  I say ...yeah.  We drove into town and said, “What do you have to do to live in a place like this?”  The answer is put all your stuff in boxes and reinvent yourself. Camden is great - a funky little town on the ocean, with mountains rising out of the harbor.  Being here makes you feel good. Yesterday we hung out with my wife's parents, who are visiting from Albany.  We are scheming to get them to move here, but the winter is a tough sell.  I don't mind it myself - I'm growing zen-like in my old age. I am, by the way, the town poet.

Is being the town poet kind of like Adam Sandler's role in Mr. Deeds as the town greeting card writer minus the millions of dollars and shitty reviews?  I can't decide if this question makes a lot of sense right now.  I don't want to go back and read it. You mentioned Allston a few answers back.  I'm actually at packard's corner right now.  What were your old hang outs back in the day?

It's exactly like that.  OK, I've never seen the movie.  It's like being the village idiot, who is also a snappy dresser.
Allston...We bought our gas and smokes at the Merrit on Western ave, and our liquor across the street at Uncle Sonny's.  Our home away from Home was Bunratty's.  We hung around Mr. Music because it was such an odd slice of life, and we could guilt them into discounts if we didn't mind the dramatic floor show ("Tommy!  You seein' this?  They're killing me!  They want to put me out of business!  Fuck it - give it to them.") There was a little bar up on Brighton ave - what was it?  the Hi-Lo?  Sadly, almost everything I'm familiar with is probably long gone.  King Deli?  Kinvara? Bunratty's was one of the main tent poles that held up our lives (along with the Rat, the Channel, Cantones, Inn Square, and a few others).  It was a good place, with mostly good people, and you could see some great music there.  When Abel (decent guy, barback) got shot, that sort of let the air out of the tires. For the record, I played music in NYC, and the so-called club scene there couldn't hold a candle to the Boston scene, not by a mile.  Mercenary bullshit.  But I digress.

I don't know if any of those places still exist.  I'm curious about your life in the boston music scene.  I'm guessing you were sometime after the whole Mission of Burma, maybe in the middle of the Pixies.  I'm throwing out the big names obviously, but maybe you can give us a quick history of Boston music and how you relate to it all.

When I was 17 and we first started playing Boston clubs the hot stuff was Willie Loco, Reddy Teddy, Mickey Clean and the Mezz, the Real Kids, the Atlantics, the Cars.  Then came the Neighborhoods, La Peste ,the Stompers, the Fools, Human Sexual Response, Mission of Burma, Ann Primm Group, Classic Ruins.  At some point Gang Green, SS Decontrol, Push Push, True Blue, Pixies, Lemonheads. I moved to NYC in 1988 and stepped in a puddle of suck - everything was about selling drinks and trying to impress someone.  I did, however, have a righteous kickass band there, the Juke Savages. Jesus, listen to me.  I've become my own grandpa.  Boy I miss those locomotives.  I remember that time I found a baby brontosaurus on the way home from school but my mom wouldn't let me keep it. Now I'm all about poetry, bro.

I read your poem a new voice, when was this written?  Was it written when transitioning into a poet? Also, what's your favorite: Vaseline, WD-40, or Blood?

Not at the time, but that's what it's about.  For so long, making music was what defined me and gave me value, so when I reached the end of that particular road it was pretty mortifying - if I'm not who I am, if I don't do the thing that makes me worthwhile...then what?  Who said the thing about there being no second chapters in American lives?  Bullshit. Tough one.  I love WD - 40 - did you know that it stands for Water Dispersant formula #40?  Still, I'll go with blood.  Yeah, blood all the way.  I do love the smell of the WD 40, though...

I read somewhere that you were working on a novel, how's that going?

I went about it backwards. I wrote a bar band memoir, then a novel. I've written several novels actually, and they make excellent doorstops. I finally wrote a pretty good one, or so I thought. I worked with an agent for six months, until she finally begged out, saying it was 'too dark' for her. She directed me to a second agent - I worked with her for six months, doing lots of rewrites and reading the 'how-to' books she recommended, and then she decided it wasn't commercial enough. During this process I learned something; for starters, being called an underachiever as a kid was really undiagnosed ADD - this was not a big deal, except it clarified some questions I'd always had about my wiring. Brain-wise, I'm a sprinter, not a distance runner. I work well in small frames. Writing novels was particularly hard for me because of the long arc. So, right about this time I rediscovered poetry, and decided that I didn't want to swim in the aquarium of the publishing business. I did self-publish two novels, just so they would exist, should anyone want to read them. Hideaway, in particular is a kick-ass contemporary noir, in my opinion. Camaro is a collection of linked short stories, possibly inspired by Stuart Dybek. There. Now you know everything. Happy Prince Spagetti day.

How has the self-publishing worked out for you?

Great.  With poetry, I don't expect to make any money, but I'm determined not to pay to be a poet.  Also, I want to do it my way, and not fight with would-be experts like we did back in the music day.  So self-publishing is a good fit for me.  You do everything; covers, layout, promo, real DIY.  And it's POD there's no waste, or unnecessary expense.  I sell books at readings, over the internet, and at local stores, which is fine.  Would I like a publishing house to take an interest, distribute it, give it the extra weight?  Absolutely.  But I don't want to sit on my hands waiting.  I'd rather put messages in bottles and heave them into the surf.