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Activist ~ Author ~ Composer ~ Guitarist ~ Singer ~ Songwriter
The Best Is Yet To Come...
For those looking for the, meat n' potatoes...I wear a lot of different hats. Some, fit better than others. There is a lengthy bio stretched throughout the rest of this site but in a nutshell, I am, as the line above states, an activist, author, composer etc. Throughout my life I've done them all with varying degrees of concern, interest and success.
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You're not going to find an abundance of pictures of me, either here, or online. Unless someone else randomly took them and sent me a copy, or they posted them themselves, there just aren't that many floatin' around. I've never been the picture taking kind. Even hated having those ridiculous school pictures made when I was a kid. Standing backstage one night with Kris Kristofferson and Billy Swan a woman fumbled and fidgeted with her camera attempting to take a picture of the three of us. Finally Kris spoke up, "Lady, if you would dear, time is fleeting, and ya' know, the Indians believed taking your picture steals your soul, and I ain't got a lot left." The pic above, by the way, was taken at The Commodore in Nashville in 2010. The shot below is of yours truly, in 1982, working with one of the finest, truest voices I ever had the delight of making music with, B. J. Thomas.

Without a doubt, my proudest accomplishment as a songwriter...

Written in 2010 in Nashville for a children's charity event,
it is now being played regularly in over 40 countries worldwide every holiday season.
In 2012, it became the opening theme of the full length, family feature film,
The Adventures of Bailey: Christmas Hero.

I Wish Every Day Was Christmas

This is a version of, "I Wish Every Day Was Christmas", done January 16th, 2011 at the invitational Shoals Songwriter's Showcase in Muscle Shoals, Alabama. It was only the second time I had ever performed the song live having just written it about six weeks earlier and I just knew I'd never remember all the lyrics. As it was, in my humble opinion, it came off pretty well.
Officially, my last single release, Too Long Lonely.
(I say, officially, because this recording was released by the label in August of 2010. "Joshua's Sorrow", which you'll find a little further down the page, has yet to be released as a single on a label. It was recorded in the fall of 2011 and made available to the public in early 2012.)
Too Long Lonely

Music Was A Special Thing...
This is about a 2 minute excerpt from an interview with Beat Magazine USA I did in January, 2011. It is the first live video interview I've done in 25 years. (Might just be the last...) Interviews are something I've never been terribly fond of doing. As I state elsewhere in this one, I have no interest in talking about me, or music. If we're going to discuss things others listen to and hopefully come away from a bit enlightened, let's discuss matters that "matter"...Like ending the wars, ending children starving in a world of plenty, and learning to fairly share this planet with the other living things that have as much right to be here as we do.
What I like to refer to as my,
"Musicians Guide To True Love",
"She Said"
This version was recorded live at the
Shoals Songwriter's Showcase in Muscle Shoals, Alabama in 2011.

You Can Connect With Me On Any Of The Websites Below, Simply Click On The Icon.

Apologies for things being in a bit of a disarray around here...Doing some much needed house cleaning and revamping.
Hope to have everything in order by the time it matters...
Joshua's Sorrow
I'm not exactly sure how to describe the nature of this song, Joshua's Sorrow...
It is what it is...Based upon 2 sets of circumstances that actually took place,
they came together here...
I suppose you'll have to make the call for yourself...
I recently decided it was time for a new website. Why? Why do people rearrange their living room furniture? Why do people buy a new car when the old one's running fine? Why do puppies always chew up the left shoe? Can't answer those questions, but to answer the why regarding my decision to create a new, hopefully, once-and-for-all website, the bottom line is simply this...I am way over the increasing amount of time and effort draped in hype, ballyhoo and basically, if there were ever a proper use of the word, bullshit it takes to maintain a constantly active and inviting online musical presence. It's simply, not me. Still, I understand the need to play a role in this virtual wasteland and the need to provide answers to questions some might have about you when you are even remotely in the public eye. So, to the best of my recollection, here's the answers to the questions you never asked...By the way, at first glance this all might appear a bit lengthy however it is actually a very condensed effort, omitting a number of perhaps interesting moments some might find entertaining, amusing or perhaps even enlightening. As time permits, I may go back and add more in the future. Damn, there I go, already updating...

Many years ago, an article that appeared in a music rag in Athens, Georgia described my lifetime musical adventure as, storied, and colorful, I kinda' liked that, because I have indeed had a pretty storied and colorful musical career, if that's what it can be called...Especially for someone who basically has never given a damn about the business of music. Don't misunderstand, I'm good at business and I am well aware of its necessity for survival, however I've never concerned myself in the slightest with all the trappings of the music business, like developing and maintaining an image, or sending out press releases every time I stumped my toe, or winning over the critics, critics, you know, those people who cannot begin to do what it is they are considered authorities on. And, I have forever despised "promotional" tours, and radio station junkets, ass kissing and brown nosing people who in most instances know less about music than Helen Keller did just to get them to sing the praises of my latest musical effort. I have simply never thought of playing music as a business. It was, and, still "is", to me, something I can do, and do reasonably well. And, on those given occasions, when the stars are aligned and the magic is adrift on the night air, there is nothing quite like the experience of sharing your talents with those who are appreciative of them. And, while some might conclude that the delight and good times my abilities have afforded me are reward enough for my efforts and wonder how could I justify feeling a need to be otherwise compensated, well, when those efforts are time constraining and require both physical and mental exertion to produce, when they are an obligation that requires your presence at a given time and place and there are expenses involved in making that come about, why wouldn't I expect to be paid for my time and efforts, for my expertise, for sharing my insight of a craft I have spent years, decades honing and nurturing? And while I do believe it to be just and fair in my wanting to be paid for my services, I honestly expect it in a way not unlike it is expected by the butcher, the baker or the candle stick maker...Bottom line for me has always been, hey, if you're making money off of me, I want some of it. If you're giving away your wares for free, I'll certainly consider doing likewise, and in fact, on more and more occasions these days, that is exactly what I have been doing. My contributions of performing free for numerous charities for children and animals have begun to far outweigh any other performance schedule I keep. Children and animals, I hasten to note, are my two greatest concerns. For the most part, everyone else is on their own. Innocence, is the call to arms...

As the stories go, I really did start my first band in a garage at the age of 12. After spending my "formative" years taking in everything from Elvis to Patti Page, The Drifters to the Shirelles, along came The Beatles and I knew right then, music was always going to be a part of my life. I had no illusions of making money at it, just playing it. Elvis had hooked me on the guitar, my first one was blue, uh huh, blue, just like the one he played in his movie, Blue Hawaii. I was 9 years old. At about the age of 12, after seeing the Beatles, I went electric, got an electric guitar, a Kent, and an amp, a Fender Princeton, and started my first band with two friends in one of their parents garages that was half converted into a den. Were we any good? In heart and soul, I have no doubts, we excelled, as for musicianship, I'm pretty certain we sucked. Nonetheless, in those days, good was a relative term, (Actually, little has changed, the same holds true today, perhaps more so than ever.), and we actually got a gig or two here and there, the first one, at a local teen club paid $15 for the whole band. It was a fortune to a band of 12 year olds and that night, we were, kings of the world. I have never had a truly more enjoyable night playing music since. To the other guys in the band though, it was a passing fad, a fleeting romance, and their interest waned. I on the other hand, was in love. When that band broke up I formed another with a different bunch of friends and I had also began playing trumpet in the school band which of course taught me to read music which in turn heightened a certain awareness of different facets of music for me. The evolution of The Beatles kept them in the forefront of my musical interest however groups such as The Doors, The Moody Blues, Jefferson Airplane, The Grassroots, The Small Faces, Long John Baldry and others began to gain my attention and influence my playing.

A couple of years into my musical journey, on a handful of occasions, I set the guitar aside for the opportunity to experience the "big time" and did a few spot gigs as a trumpet player with a few "beach music" bands in the area where I grew up on the east coast. The frivolity of the dance music scene however provided little outlet for my creative juices and that portion of my musical legacy was short lived. The highlight of those brief excursions however was, at a very youthfully charged and influential age, getting to meet and work with some of the true greats of the beach music scene at that time such as, The Drifters, The Tams, The Chairmen of the Board, Maurice Williams & The Zodiacs and Bill Deal & The Rhondells.

In August of 1969 I went to Woodstock, yes, that Woodstock, in fact, the van I drove is in the movie. That adventure, in conjunction with my first visits to the coffeehouses of Greenwich Village in New York City would set me on an entirely new course in my musical journey, that of aspiring singer/songwriter. I had been a fan of Bob Dylan but never truly a listener, suddenly his work found its way into my playlist and though I had actually written a few songs here and there, none of which I'd want to reminisce long on these days, I began delving deeper into songwriting and for the first time embraced it as a medium I could honestly pursue. The following summer, while living at the oceanfront in Virginia Beach, I became friends with Danny Flowers, more or less a local guy who played the coffeehouses of Norfolk, Richmond and D.C. My girlfriend and I were running a "head shop" in Virginia Beach and Danny and a number of other local musicians would gather there almost daily in the afternoons. He and I spent many evenings on the stoop of the shop which sat within earshot of the Atlantic Ocean and played music together. He was a few years older than me and quite the guitarist, I learned a good deal from him. Then one day, completely out of nowhere, he simply walked up to me, handed me his guitar and said, "Here, it's yours, I quit." He said he was heading to North Carolina to live on a tobacco farm, and, he did, for a while anyway. Several years later he was living in Nashville, playing guitar for the country music artist, Don Williams and had written songs that had been recorded by Emmylou Harris and Nanci Griffith. His boss, Don Williams would a few years later give Danny his biggest songwriting success which Eric Clapton would then take for a ride on the charts, Tulsa Time. Me? Well, I was headed to Montreal.

Moonlight On The Water

Written in 1984 while crossing Mobile Bay on a full moon eve, still, one of my favorites. This recording of it is from 2003 and though it is obviously not me singing it, I thought the artist who recorded it provided a wonderful interpretation, truly capturing the feel of the song.

In the spring of 1971, with a Selective Service lottery number of, #1, yes, that is a, one, I was drafted into the U.S. military and I moved to Montreal, Quebec, Canada. I had openly voiced my opposition to the war in Viet Nam in newspapers and local magazines and what course of action I would pursue if conscripted into the military to fight in an unjust war. (Not that any war is, "justified", however, some are, more so than others. My belief has always been, war, is never an option, war, is always and only, a last resort.) I was also quite vocal about my opposition to the Viet Nam War while performing at a number of anti-war rallies in Norfolk, Richmond, Williamsburg and Washington D.C. and it was at gatherings such as these that I came into contact with an eclectic elite of the counter-culture who would in their own ways, influence the immediate course of my musical endeavors, lulling me more into the protest and anti-war vein of writing. Most notable of these characters were, poet, Alan Ginsberg, musicians such as Pete Seeger, Arlo Guthrie and Grace Slick, anti-war activists such as Bill Kuntsler and Dave Dillinger and just plain ol' '60's radicals such as Jerry Rubin and Rennie Davis, both of whom, along with Dillinger were members of the infamous, Chicago Seven. All of this, of course, is another story, which is told elsewhere online for those who have an interest.

In Montreal, I already had musical connections through Jesse Winchester, a fellow southern boy who had traveled the path I had chosen in opposition to the war a couple of years before me. I began playing coffeehouses on a circuit between Montreal and Toronto, occasionally with, Jesse, basically honing my solo stage skills until I finally reached a plateau of opening shows for and sharing the stage on festivals with a number of the folk and blues greats of that era including, Tim Buckley, Tom Rush, Dave Van Ronk, Buffy St. Marie, Tim Hardin, Fraser & Debolt, Leonard Cohen, Ramblin' Jack Elliot, Bill Staines, Keith Sykes, Murray McLauchlan, Lightin' Hopkins, Muddy Waters and even my namesake, the Reverend Gary Davis. I guess no matter how hard I might have played the part of troubadour however, my rock n' roll roots shown through and in late '71 I was invited to join one of Montreal's premier rock n' roll bands, The Haunted, a group that had been around since the mid '60's and had amassed a huge following in Canada and the northeastern United States. While it was an all empowering experience to be back, loud and 'lectric, and a kick sharing stages with April Wine, Mashmakhan and Michel Pagliaro it was short lived as in-band rivalries and lingering lawsuits with labels and management shut the group down for good and I was back in the acoustic saddle again. Oh, and officially becoming an author of sorts, a published poet at least, as my first book, Between Court And King was released that winter. It also was right about this time that Randy Bachman of, The Guess Who and Bachman/Turner Overdrive came into my little world via a mutual friend, Doug McAruthur. Doug, by the way was the first person to ever record one of my songs. Randy was producing Doug's new album and Doug felt Randy would be right to produce me, so, we all met in Toronto one night with, of all people, Mitch Ryder, of Mitch Ryder & The Detroit Wheels. Mitch and I hit it off great, like long lost friends, just drinking, cussing, smoking and raising all kinds of hell right there in front of Randy and Doug as they chit chatted away. While the evening appeared to have had no lasting devastating effects on my future dealings with Randy, though he never did produce me, I'm sure Mitch and my rebel rousing that night scored few points with him. Hell, I had no idea one of the biggest rock n' rollers in the world at that time was a, non-drinking, smoking, cussing, partying and just about non everything else Mormon...

In the fall of 1972 I did my first actual commercial recording for an outfit in Montreal called, SoundBox 72, produced by Tex Koeing. It was a couple of original tunes, "Crazy Lady" and "Just You And Me". A third tune had been put in the can, a cover of David Wiffin's, Driving Wheel that I had first heard done by Tom Rush on a show we did together. It was also in 1972 that my second book of poetry and essays, Back To Where It All Began was published. And that same year, at the Mariposa Folk Festival in Toronto, is where I first met Gordon Lightfoot and Bruce Cockburn, two talents I wish I had had more appreciation of at the time. But, hey, ain't that life? Though I never crossed paths with Cockburn again, fortunately I did get a few chances in later years to work with Gordon. Unfortunately, they were times when his demons were in their rarest forms and his light shined nowhere near as bright as it once had. But, hey, ain't that life...

I remained in Canada until 1975, after which I returned briefly to my home in Virginia Beach. All legal matters in the states regarding my draft status had been resolved, and though I was a big fan of Canada, and Montreal in particular, I was well aware that any future musical aspirations I had would be better off being pursued in the U.S. That decision was made in part by something called, The Canadian Content Act which was introduced in Canada and designed to aid Canadian artists in getting airplay on Canadian stations. It simply meant all radio stations in Canada had to play a certain percentage of Canadian made music. Canadian made was defined by a number of things, all of which simply made it harder for non-Canadians to get their music on the radio. With the airways being inundated with major acts from the U.S. and the U.K. in those days, combined with the amount of airtime that had to be devoted to Canadian artists, that left little room for the not so big, non-Canadian acts like myself to get a shot at any significant radio airplay. So, back to the states it was. After a year back home I realized music had, for the most part, all moved to New York, L.A. and Nashville. I was literally 3 days away from moving to Atlantic City, in part due to its proximity to New York, when I was offered a job in Nashville. In the summer of '77 I headed west young man...

Too Long Lonely

Here's a little proof of technology doing the job that most couldn't do without it...

This recording was "released" in late summer of 2010, it has done very well for me considering released, means, recorded and put online without any record label support behind it or a dime of money spent for promotion. It has aired, to date in at least 15 countries that I am aware of. Free downloads on the sites I monitor have amounted to over 12,000, last count. (It is now available as a .99 download on my ReverbNation page. Hey, a buck for a song that'll last you a lifetime, what a deal...) The comments I hear most often about this song are, first, praise for the quality of my vocals, which I greatly appreciate and which I am especially quick to point out were done without the aid of a $3,000 Sennheiser or Neumann or whatever the latest craze is in microphones made to enhance that which, in most cases, is never really there to begin with. It was recorded using simply the best vocal mic ever made, a Shure, SM58, cost, $100. Vocal "enhancers" and Auto-Tune were, needless to say, never used, and in my opinion, have no justifiable use or place on this planet much less in the process of the recording of music...You've either, got it, or, you don't. That's what separates a brain surgeon from a butcher.

Another comment I often get about it is regarding the drum beat, that it seems almost, off-beat at first listen, yet it definitely works for the song. It is, of course, a machine, a Roland Boss unit which took maybe an hour to program.

Lastly, and, most importantly perhaps, is the comment I have heard repeatedly, most notably from other guitarists, and that is the tone of the "guitars" themselves on the recording. Honestly, I have had nothing but praise for the sound I obtained on the guitars. Well, here's the bubble burster, it's all done with mirrors, I mean, to the max. The processor the guitars were run through was a Boss unit contained in a portable recording rig I travel with, the Roland BR-1200. A sweet machine. The bass guitar was run through a setting for bass, the rhythm and lead each run through other settings respectively. Okay, so where's the big revelation, you ask? Drum roll, please...And, "real" drums if you have them... It's all done with a single guitar, and not just a single, "electric" guitar, no, not my '72 Strat, but an acoustic guitar, the very same Martin D1 pictured in the live video above of, I Wish Every Day Was Christmas. In fact, the same process was used recording the studio version of that song. Ain't technology grand? Not really...Given this revelation, the fact that a musical instrument can be made to sound entirely like something other than what it "actually" is and what it actually sounds like, doesn't this make you give thought to the processes used to alter and enhance the vocals of many so-called singers today. I believe recordings should be required to carry content labels just as other things we consume do, foods, beverages etc. Any, artificial ingredients contained? You bet your artificially sweeten ass there are...

Too Long Lonely

My first gig in Nashville was with, Ruby Wright. Her claim to fame? She was Kitty Wells and Johnny Wright's daughter. In Nashville, that meant something. It was right about that time Pete Drake founded, Second Generation Records which was intended as a torch bearing tool for the children of famous Nashville artists, many of which were then coming of age and a number were seeking the easy life by following in their famous mom or dad's footsteps. Most were not much fuel for Pete's torch but Ruby was personable enough, her voice not unpleasant, her biggest attribute however was her connections. Her mother and father were Nashville royalty, her brother-in-law, John Sturdivant, the vice president of Tree Publishing. Her first recording for Second Generation, I kid you not was, Billy Broke My Heart At Walgreens And I Cried All The Way To Sears". It bordered on being an embarrassment to actually perform live. But, as I said, Ruby was personable enough, it's just that, from my observations, her heart simply wasn't in it. Gigs began to become less and less frequent and I began to seek other work. And when we parted ways we remained friends and she continued to introduce me to some Music Row heavyweights that got a few doors ajar for me, notably, Merle Kilgore, who in turn would introduce me to Jimmy Bowen, Wesley Rose, Merlin Littlefield and Boudleaux Bryant, the latter's son, Dale, would become my BMI rep. Little by little I got my foot in other doors in town and I made other connections, a few brought me work, a few brought me satisfaction. Larry Butler, for instance, got me involved for a brief bit with Don McClain and introduced me to Ray Charles and Kenny Rogers. And little by little I began stumbling across old friends and acquaintances who then lived there, Danny Flowers, of course, however he was forever on the road, and, Bobbe Seymour, an old Norfolk acquaintance who actually played steel guitar for Elvis at one time and would later be the only person I'd ever know who had a gold album for playing steel guitar on a, Quiet Riot album. Then, there was, Lenny Breau, jazz guitarist extraordinaire whom I'd first met in Canada when he was playing with Anne Murray and who Chet Atkins had personally brought to Nashville to produce. "And", who would be found a few years later in L.A. face down in a swimming pool dead of a heroin overdose. Try as I might though, in my early days in Nashville, in a city known as, Music City, I could for the most part only find one kind of music and that was, country. Not at all my cup of tea. So, after giving Printer's Alley a short lived try, though I did meet a few interesting characters there, notably, Ron Gaddis and his soon to be ex, Lorrie Morgan, it was The Gold Rush that finally became my regular watering hole and eventually, The Exit In and a few local dives like Springwater and Cantrell's became my musical haunts. Slowly I slipped from the grip of Music Row and slid head long into the underbelly of the Nashville music scene, rock n' roll. Not long after taking leave of my apprenticeship on the row, looking back on it, I easily concluded it had been for the best. Though I had made some really good and lasting contacts there, I was not a music row kinda' guy, and I could tell that early on. Ass kissing and brown nosing, as I mentioned earlier, have never been my forte', and, pissing off someone who "really" mattered was just a matter of time for someone like myself, someone who placed integrity and character above sales and cuts. Besides, I've never been much of a team player anyway, always more into solo sports. Even in my bands I remained pretty much a solo player, a dictator at times it probably seemed to some, but anyone who believes a successful band is a democracy is probably gigging at the Holiday Inn, long term.

In '79 I got married and took a break from music for a while, well, that was my intention anyway. We had settled into a house on the lake in Hendersonville, just north of Nashville, on, River Road, to be exact. Across the street from my house, nestled in the pine trees was, Anchor High Marina and I very much enjoyed casual walks along its docks in the afternoons, nonchalantly nodding and smiling hello to those on their boats in passing. Most, were quite amicable, a few simply, standoffish. There was a dog, long haired, brown, medium sized that was often there freely roaming as well and eventually he roamed right along with me on my walks. One afternoon, unwittingly, I met the new owner of Anchor High, Harry Sadler. Harry was a portly fellow, in his 60's, silver gray hair and as I was to later learn, he had been a lawyer and a one-time power player in Tennessee politics having actually run for governor once. Harry approached me, asked about the dog, was it mine, said he'd seen me strolling about on occasion. I explained I had no idea who the dog belonged to and that I was just a, dog magnet, and my strolls were simply because I loved boats and the water. Curiously, he smiled broadly and his eyes suddenly glistened. Apparently Harry, who had just purchased a million dollar marina and knew nothing about boats and even less about running a marina, had just found his, boy. A bit more small talk, a beer shared inside while I informed him of my marriage and my sabbatical from music and Harry had found his savior, me. I took over running Anchor High Marina for the next year and a half, moonlighting a few gigs on occasion to keep my chops up and basically living a pleasant lifestyle. When I mentioned above, taking a break from music being my "intention", I was clueless as to actually how involved, in a roundabout way, I was unintentionally about to become. As it turned out, Anchor High was the marina amongst a large group of Nashville's music biz heavy hitters and many kept their boats there. One by one I couldn't help but meet them all and one by one I developed a casual relationship with each of them in turn. Billy Sherrill, Buddy Killen, Barbara Mandrell, Norro Wilson, Mario Ferrari, Jack Norman were just a few. One afternoon I met a fellow on the docks who said he lived in a cabin just across an inlet from the marina, you could actually see it from where we stood. His name was Mickey. He looked familiar, but then again...He invited me to his place for a beer and small talk, we ended up there for hours, casually strumming guitars, drinking beer and just talking in general about life. Music was little discussed, just played. A few items strewn about the cabin in a haphazard manner, awards and plaques from different organizations finally revealed whose company I shared but I made no fuss over it, to me, we were just two guys doing what you do with music, playing it. Mickey Newbury and I grew to be close friends for a couple years, meeting at his cabin or on the docks to drink a beer, shoot the shit and occasionally play a little music. Faron Young, whom I had already begun to get to know was often a fixture at Anchor High hanging out with Sherrill and Killen and he would join Mickey and I occasionally. Faron and I grew pretty close as well for a brief while and many nights he'd show up at my door with a bottle of whiskey and I'd drag out a couple of guitars and we'd sit out on the steps beneath the stars brewing melancholy. He was a lonely man, even then, a fact that would lead to his suicide some years later. On a lighter note, Harry approached me one day, clearly on his way to inebriation, and asked me to entertain a guest he was expecting but he had an errand to run. An hour or so later, a casually dressed fellow, large in stature, showed up, I introduced myself, explained the situation and he appeared little concerned and sat down on the ground, back against a large old Oak tree and gazed off across the lake. An hour or so later, growing restless, he asked me about getting a beer, I was forced to explain, Hendersonville was a dry city. He inquired about options. I suggested a boat ride across the lake to Old Hickory. Off we went. He emerged from the marina there with a six pack of Michelob under either arm and Fred Thompson and I spent the next several hours cruising Old Hickory Lake, drinking beer, carefree as the wind that whipped our faces. Harry never did return that day. Years later, I approached then, U.S. Senator Fred Thompson and reminded him of that day, he swore he remembered it well.

They say, all good things must come to an end and I personally can attest to that...In '81 I began a rather reckless year by getting divorced, abandoning the suburbs, taking up with a professional dancer who moonlighted at RCA Records, and skipping a not so light fandango with a crazy cast of characters that included, Billy Joe Shaver, Jim Varney, Eddie Struzick, Sandy Pinkard and a few whose last names I don't believe I ever caught. Rickie Lee Jones and I got thrown out of a club together and threatened with arrest after a rousing party in Pinkard's suite at the Rock n' Roll Hotel one night, and Larry Henley came bounding into The Third Coast not too many days after that to drag Struzick and I out to Eddie's Jeep to endure Larry's latest attempt at establishing a song writing career, which, after listening to the demo, both Eddie and I had to concede, this new one, Wind Beneath My Wings definitely had a shot at doing. Towards the end of that year I met and began a bit of rebel rousing with Tanya Tucker and her party army, and I saved future million selling songwriter, Dean Dillion's life one night by not killing him after he threatened to smash the windshield of my '66 GTO with a 2x4. Musically, I'm not sure what came about for me that year. I did record a few things at Sound Emporium and on one occasion, spent an evening sipping tea with John Denver during his sessions there that Larry Butler was producing.

'83 became quite an eventful year for me, I released a "solo" single entitled, Cried All Night Over You. I had recorded it at Hilltop Studios with Kevin McManus engineering. It was put out on a now long defunct indie label and in Nashville, at least, quickly forgotten. However, somehow it made it to the east coast of the Carolina's and began getting considerable airplay there, mostly because a few radio DJ's there had linked up my past brief association with beach music with the recording. Poof, it was in Billboard Magazine. Also in '83 I began my association with a television production outfit that would go on to become, CMTV, the Country Music Television Network. I began as a band member on a few syndicated shows they produced, Nashville RFD hosted by Stan Hitchcock and, believe it or not, a gospel series called, Sing Out America. Both shows were terrible. Basically, music, variety talk shows, a few guests, a few songs, ta da. On, RFD most of the guest were Stan's cronies, washed up Opry members aging before our very eyes. Stonewall Jackson, Jan Howard, Little Jimmy Dickens, Stu Phillips, Ferlin Husky, about 40 members of the Opry all toll I once tallied. The gospel series, which was indeed painful to endure at times, did at least, apparently from what I was told as I had no knowledge of who was who is gospel music, have the major acts of its time on the show. The one memorable highlight, meeting and working with, The Jordanaires. Yep, the very voices that backed up Elvis.

Doing those shows finally led me to something worthwhile when I was hired to be a part of Nashville songwriting mainstay, Jerry Foster's new syndicated television series, Nightlife. A bonus track was getting to work on a long term basis with Jerry's band leader, Rob Stoner, formerly Bob Dylan's bassist and band leader on the Rolling Thunder Revue. In his own right, he was a member of rock-a-billy royalty, a true purveyor of a music genre' that was the foundation of what became, rock n' roll. Jerry's show was a much classier presentation than the amateurish attempts of the others. The set itself was professional, nicely furnished and the caliber of guests was a far cut above my previous associations. For its time, it was an "A" list of country music stars mixed with music ground breakers, George Strait, Gene Watson, Johnny Lee, Leon Everette, John Conlee, Earl Thomas Conley, Johnny Rodriguez, Lynn Anderson, Con Hunley and many others. It was on this show I met Kristofferson for the first time, and B.J. Thomas and Carl Perkins. The show went into syndication almost immediately after being launched and for a while it looked like a real winner, problem was, all of the resources of Daniels Television, the producers, were being funneled into their dream endeavor, that of creating CMTV and beating out The Nashville Network as the first country music network to go on air. All of us involved in Nightlife were being pulled away to work in the production of music videos, content for the new, CMTV. We made 90 of them in six months, for, Lee Greenwood, Mel Tillis, Brenda Lee, Mickey Gilley and others. Jerry's show began to fall by the wayside and when CMTV was finally put on the air, beating out TNN by two days, everything became focused on making it work. Honestly, I was ready to move on.

In '84 I launched my own new endeavor, I formed, Davis Deluxe, a rock n' roll band I would keep intact in one form or another for 20 years. Through its lifetime some pretty incredible players were a part of it, many, personal friends of mine who just happened to be world class musicians to boot. In the spring of '84, our first single was released, One Of A Kind, a rock ballad, or, as Nashville music writer, Robert K. Oermann labeled it, a, "rock-a-ballad". Regardless of what he described it as, he went on to say, "Unquestionably, the best rock-a-ballad I've heard by a Nashville band...this act could go far." A second single, Half A Heart Away followed shortly thereafter. A few personnel changes took place and a third single, When The Lights Go Down finally got us some national and international attention. It's, "B" side, by the way, Come To Me broke in Europe and did very well for us there. Oermann gave us a glowing review in Nashville's, Music Row Magazine and Billboard Magazine finally picked up on us and we found our little humbly made effort in the recommended column with George Harrison, Bob Dylan, Santana and Billy Ocean. We came to the attention of major labels, all, out of town, L.A. and New York, Atlantic, Apple, EMI. No Nashville major label would touch a rock n' roll band in those days, in fact, of all us on that scene at that time, Jason & The Scorchers, Walk the West, Royal Court of China, Government Cheese, Will & the Bushmen, The White Animals, Webb Wilder, Pat Mclaughlin etc., not a one of us got signed out of Nashville. During this time we were pretty much strictly a recording band for the most part, "touring" was not big on my hit parade and live gigs were limited to mostly regional venues. On a nostalgic note, we became the first rock n' roll band to play Nashville's, then, not so famous, Bluebird Cafe. A live recording of a song of mine ensued, (If I Had Been An) L.A. Baby/Hollywood Kid, recorded Labor Day Weekend, '85, and was released late that year. Label showcases were becoming routine. Suddenly I was being forced into the business of music in spite of those around me who were there to handle that end of things. Our views clashed more often than not on the direction things should go, I was over it, the magic of the moment was gone, and so was I.

So in '86 it was off to Miami for a year or two with stops along the way in Tampa and Cocoa Beach. I needed that salt air back in my lungs. My brief jaunts to the gulf coast just didn't quite keep me refueled, and I really needed a break from the Nashville music mindset. I threw together a quick line up for the band through some friends and acquaintances and started doing a few midsize concert/dance venues along the east coast of Florida. Via a booking agent friend in Orlando I landed us some opening act slots on festivals with Greg Allman, Molly Hatchet and though it may seem an odd match, Chaka Khan. Through another friend in Orlando I met Carlos Morales, who had co written Julian Lennon's, Valotte album with him and he and I began co-writing together. In St. Pete I was paired up acoustically to do a few shows with Roger McGuinn of The Byrds and Bertie Higgins. In the meantime my management people in Nashville had gotten the band a shot with Atlantic Records out of L.A. so I headed back there briefly to reunite with Kenny Buttrey and Bucky Barrett, to cut some tracks, this time adding a bassist from England named, Steve Carmen who had ended up in Nashville after touring with Peter Frampton and Joe Cocker. Returning to Florida I traded houses with a friend for one in Destin and headed to the panhandle in part to be closer to Nashville for business and after living in Miami for a year and a half, I'd had enough of New Yorkers. Another quick trip to Nashville in '89 to do a project with Kenny, Bucky and Steve at Buzz Cason's studio and in '90, I headed to New Orleans in need of a new musical direction. Never really found it. Found the New Orleans sound, but for me, though it was, partius maximus and I dug hearing others play it, it just lacked balls when it came to playing it myself. A brief association with the British band, Go West who had just had a major hit with a recording called, King Of Wishful Thinking came about as a result of my connection with Steve Carmen and I wallowed in that world for a short while, then it was back to reality and I ended up with yet another incarnation of Davis Deluxe and we began doing regional gigs in New Orleans and Memphis and along the gulf coast, festivals and such with acts such as, Delbert McClinton. My association with an animal rights organization in New Orleans called, L.I.S.A., Legislation in Support of Animals began a regular series of shows at Jimmy Buffett's club, Margaritaville as fund raisers for the group. Another notable charity I was associated with there was, Kids Kickin' Cancer, which was hosted each year at Audubon Park and usually included half the Saints football team as a real treat for the kids. It was a rewarding but heart wrenching event that I made it through 3 years in a row, each year, knowing some of those kids would not be back the following year, and not, for the right reason. There were some memorable highlights to my New Orleans musical adventure, it was not uncommon for impromptu jams and gigs to just spring up out of nowhere with no telling who would be there. While playing one night on Bourbon St. I watched Ernie Cato, Mother-In-Law, fall head first off the stage, Frankie Ford, Sea Cruise was a trip to jam with, and for a while there Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam could be found in any of a number of Bourbon Street bars, wailing off key. In '95 after supporting up and coming standup, sometimes, fall down comics by often using them to open shows for my band, I was "rewarded" with being invited to be a celebrity judge along with Bud Friedman of The Improv in L.A. and Brandon Tartikoff who was president of NBC at the time, at The Big Easy Laff-Off. My five year New Orleans binge began approaching a wrap with an event at the House of Blues with Harry Connick and The Dixie Cups. The Dixie Cups? My god, I had literally listened to them as a kid, Going to the Chapel! Not since meeting and working with Carl Perkins almost a dozen years earlier had I been so revisited by those early days in my friends garage, a wishful 12 year old, intent on trying to make a little music.

In '95 I returned to Nashville for reasons I'm not sure of other than it was time to get out of New Orleans, it was becoming increasingly dangerous. In all my travels, to my knowledge, I had never met anyone whose fate was to be murdered. In New Orleans, I had met one for every year I was there. Returning from a road trip to Memphis I found my house draped in that ominous yellow police tape and my garbage can overflowing with bloodied sheets and rubber gloves. Apparently a neighbor had shot a would-be assailant and he crawled up under my house to try and hide. A few weeks prior to that, on an otherwise peaceful Sunday morning I had watched a guy casually stroll along our street shooting up his ex girlfriend's car and house with a Mac-10. He looked right in the window at me and smiled as if, just another day in the Big Easy. Enough was more than enough. Nashville had matured somewhat musically, country music of course was still its lifeblood but other genres were being born and raised there so I suppose I figured maybe I would at least be amongst others of a like mind. As it were, other genres were indeed being breathed life into in Nashville at that time but they were still physically in Nashville and it didn't take long for little clicks to form within them, fortunately I was less intent on performing as writing and producing. I rounded up a few old connections, Kenneth and I reacquainted, and in fact it led to some of our best times together. My friend Donnie Winters had his own club and many nights were spent there til the wee hours, he, I, Kenny and a few others just jamming away. There are some recordings of some of those nights somewhere. The next five years were spent musically whoring around. My heart just wasn't in it. Not that it mattered to anyone but I had no respect whatsoever for the pitiful excuse of an art form contemporary music had become. Stars were being made of Bubbas and Bubbaettes that over stepped the line of shameful. Talentless mongrels were being led to the head of the pack. I was never disillusioned enough to not be aware of the star making process however it seemed it had almost been taken to levels of insulting the listening public deliberately, like record labels were having a joke on the consumers of music by seeing how far they could take it, how much shit they could pass off as talent until finally someone stepped in it, stirred up a repugnant odor and screamed, stop it! My wife at the time, whose name I only mention during exorcisms or when I am in excruciating pain and profound profanities are forgivable, was a classically trained concert pianist who performed with a number of symphonies including those in Nashville, New Orleans and Palm Beach. It was her turn to shine and that was fine with me. I devoted my time to promoting her efforts.

In 2001, right after, 9/11, I decided to again take a sabbatical from music and focus on literary writing, the thing I had always wanted to actually pursue in the first place. Nashville was not going to be the place for that so I relocated not far from where I grew up, to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I got a house on the beach there in Nags Head and thoroughly wallowed in a refreshing return to living a beach lifestyle, that is, until that winter when nor'easters began to blow and we endured a 12" snowfall. I had forgotten how brutal winters could be on the banks. They jutted out into the Atlantic lending its darkest days and nights to a climate not unlike that of New England in the winter. I relocated to Roanoke Island, only a few miles away but more inland, settled into a house there surrounded on three sides by towering Pines. I set up a studio in the house, played a little music on occasion and basically wrote and recorded. My writing focused on the numerous half finished books I had begun over the years. I produced a few local music acts, doing the best with what I had to work with. A few regular jaunts to Virginia Beach reacquainted me with a couple of my old beach music buddies and I landed some spot gigs with a few east coast beach music acts, most notably, The Chairmen of the Board, Gimme Just A Little More Time. I absolutely relished the rush of playing simply, fun music. What a respite from the Nashville mindset of every gig having the underlying feeling of being a showcase, of concerning one's self more with who might be in the audience than simply doing what it was you were there to do in the first place, play music.

2004 was a year of life altering events. A long term relationship came to a tragic end, my dear friend Kenny Buttrey died of cancer as did several other close friends and family members. I returned to Nashville to recharge my spiritual and creative beings, based myself out of there and dove head first back into music as a solo performer, basically, back to where it all began. I bought a sailboat on the gulf coast and booked a series of shows from Pensacola, Florida to Biloxi, Mississippi. Two weeks before my departure, hurricane Ivan decided to become my latest setback and demolished every one of the venues I was booked in, and, sunk my newly purchased sailboat, which fortunately, I had just insured three days earlier. An attorney friend in Virginia had a boat for sale up on the Chesapeake Bay and the allure was one I could not forgo. It had been a lifetime it seemed since I had spent anytime on the shores of where I basically grew up. It would be a renewal of sorts. I loaded up my dogs and cats, threw whatever musical equipment I thought I'd need into my Bronco and it was off to see the wizard. I settled into my new home on board, Proteus, my 32' Tanzer on Thanksgiving eve, 2004. For the next few years I would live a life I had only previously dreamed about, a life at sea. From tragedy I raised a new flag, from near ruin I had gathered my senses and begun anew. Aboard Proteus, a rugged, sea worthy vessel of a most forgiving nature, I made my way down the east coast from the Chesapeake Bay to the Outer Banks of NC then on to Myrtle Beach and Charleston, SC. Charleston held me intrigued for a while but bluer waters beckoned...I did enjoy dallying in the music scene in Charleston for a bit, did some acoustic shows there with friends. It has a somewhat unique music aura about it, producing Edwin McCain, Hootie & The Blowfish, that sort of mainstream sound. It is a city of and for the senses. I met the, Artist of Light Thomas Kinkade there, watched him paint in the streets.

In '07, after a couple of years sailing the waters of places I had once only dreamed of ever seeing, I literally pulled into my home port of Charleston, SC, stepped off of Proteus and sold her to a doctor friend who was standing there and had wanted her for some time. My dalliance with life at sea was over. I returned to Nashville, located myself in a remote setting northeast of it, set up my studio, began to reemerge from my exile, wrote and began to take a more serious interest in my music publishing. I began performing leisurely on occasion, nothing heart stopping, just casual, relaxed gigs. To be perfectly honest, I wanted to simply, start over. I walked into clubs and venues without knowing a soul, made no mention of anyone or anything, just mounted a stage and played, me and my guitar, and, it felt wonderful, almost as good as that first night so many lifetimes ago as a 12 year old counting that $15 after that first gig at the teen club...

In '09, I made my first journey back to the gulf coast since Ivan waylaid my plans five years earlier. My intent, to repeat my anonymous rebirth I had hatched in Nashville on the gulf coast as a solo acoustic player, unknown, unheralded, anonymous. It was successful, for a while, then I began to run into old acquaintances and faces I hadn't seen in years. Little by little I merged into the music scene there. A scene I had literally gone out of my musical way to avoid for almost 30 years, firstly, because the coast had always been my respite from music, and secondly, quite frankly, because the music scene there was one made up of has-beens and wannabes and little else, most, by far, simply drinking and drugging themselves into bad memories, feasting on glory days long since shed and pats on the backs by others not at all unlike themselves, a pitiful sight to behold. I often liken it to an elephant burial grounds where they simply wander off to to die when their days are done. Most of these people never leave the area they haunt, I suspect, in part, because of the complacency that has overcome them however I also believe because many simply could not handle audiences that saw them in no special light. Viewed them as simply another singer/songwriter. The ol', well played out, big fish, little pond tale keeps them swimming in the same circle.

The gulf coast of Alabama has long been a backyard playground of Nashville music makers, its proximity, first and foremost, and the beautiful gulf and beaches themselves a lure. A micro music scene arose there in the late '70's, fueled by a few successful songwriters that spent their leisure time there and eventually needed a place to ply their trade while on vacation. As with any gathering of successful sorts, leeches, opportunists and the proverbial gold diggers are not long in sniffing out their prey. The year long adventure turned into exactly the opposite of what I had intended it to be, familiarity does indeed breed contempt. I suppose the greatest impact of that foray was the tragedy of the BP oil spill. On the day it happened I was temporarily in residence on Perdido Key, Florida and recall well how we all simply shrugged it off, it was, after all, a long way away from the pristine beaches of Perdido. It was, of course, not to remain such and the agony, though slow in coming, came nonetheless. I remained there, on Perdido until early July, about a month before the ruptured well was capped. I can honestly say that I witnessed the effects of the toxic air and chemicals that were recklessly being used to combat the oil in the health of my friends and myself. I have no doubts whatsoever that my personal health was harmed by breathing in the massive amounts of chemicals that filled the air there and had I not left when I did, I would have suffered lasting effects of these poisons. As it stands, I cannot say or imagine what ills will eventually befall those friends who did not leave.

Paradise Lost

On April 20th, 2010, the BP oil rig, Deepwater Horizon exploded in the Gulf of Mexico, south of New Orleans. As I had done on countless occasions over the years, seeking a retreat from Nashville, I was in temporary residence on the gulf coast, dividing my time between, Perdido Key, Florida and my old haunt, Dauphin Island, Alabama. I was on Perdido Key the day it, "came down", and while my girlfriend at the time and I and others there were concerned about the tragedy, the lives lost, it was hundreds of miles away from us and seemingly, of so little concern. However, "As the winds of fate did blow", it was not long before it began to show its true devastation and, "day after dying day" we all waited in agony as it drew ever closer to us until finally, it was upon us. I remained on the coast until about a month before it was "capped" in August. I saw first hand the devastation that was just beginning to occur as a result of it. And personally, I have no doubt that the chemicals that were used in the dispersal of the oil in the water had a detrimental effect on me and everyone else on the gulf coast. I personally watched planes with their lights out making midnight flights over bays and rivers with chemicals raining from them onto the surface of the water. We who resided there at that time were left with no choice but to breath in the air these chemicals poisoned. The truth, has yet to be told.

It's rare that I do songwriter festivals, a mass of bodies awash in their own glow, wannabe's hobnobbing and brown nosing til their face's are ready to fracture from posturing and smiling ever so politely, has-beens all looking for that one last shot now that they have aged and in most cases, not so gracefully, all vowing, this time, to not piss the money away...Once in a blue moon it's a pleasant experience and a chance to cross paths with those you have not seen in years. This shot was taken in 2009 at the 25th anniversary of the, Frank Brown International Songwriters Festival in Alabama. I'm on the far left and next to me is a master and someone I had not shared a stage with in 30 years, Wayne Carson. Wayne's songwriting contributions are a legitimate use of the word, legendary, and include, The Letter by, The Boxtops and, You Were Always On My Mind that both Elvis and Willie Nelson immortalized.

Which brings us to, now...

For those who have read this and feel that I appear somewhat jaded or cynical in my summations, you are probably correct in your thinking however, not for the reasons one might believe. My view of music in general is that, there is far too much of it being made, and equally, far too much made of it. Gods created from rock stars, lyrics interpreted as one thing when actually meaningless in nature, people literally devoting their lives to following bands, how absurd. As I stated in an interview once, there is simply, too much music, people are inundated with it morning, noon and night, as if their lives require a soundtrack like the artificial world in which they mostly reside. Few, are ever found alone in silence, alone with their own thoughts. Some, I'm sure, afraid to be alone with themselves for fear of who they might find, but, there is a need for silence in our lives, just as there is a need for sleep, it's a restful, regenerative experience. And, I suppose, unless you are privileged enough to reside in the midst of nature, many are not aware of the beautiful music that abounds in this world that isn't man-made.


They, (yeah, them again), tell me that I should maintain a mailing list, well, the little box above is where you sign up for it, through ReverbNation. Do I ever mail anything out? Once in a blue moon, maybe, but I'll definitely remember you at Christmas...

There is actually an on-site Chat Room for those so inclined. I intend to use it on special occasions to just chit chat with everyone about a new song or video, whatever. (I'll use that mailing list above to let ya' know when.) Simply click the, "Chat Now" icon below, enter a name, any name and viola, chat away. Of course, it works better if there's more than one of you in there...

The pic above, is from '92, The House of Blues, New Orleans.

Sometime in '83 maybe...That's Bob Dylan's former Rolling Thunder Revue band leader, Rob Stoner on guitar as we accompany, Lynn (I Beg Your Pardon I Never Promised You A Rose Garden) Anderson. Both of us look like we're probably thinking what we're probably thinking...How in the hell did we end up here?

Do I Ever Cross Your Mind

From 1984, this is a recording done by my band, Davis Deluxe that was actually never finished, hence, never officially released. In fact, this recording is one of only a few I have of it and it's a bit on the dirty side, tape hiss, etc. Nonetheless, bootleg copies seem to abound of it, a few, recorded live at shows we did. As a result, for going on three decades it has gathered a small but loyal following of souls who profess to love it and its message. I have never brought myself to even attempt re-recording it, it is what it was and that's where it will forever remain...

On a photo opt break it appears on the set of Jerry Foster's syndicated television series, Nightlife. I worked on the show through its entire run. I'm lazing on the stage while Jerry poses with the truly legendary, Carl Perkins who of course wrote, Blue Suede Shoes that Elvis immortalized as well as, Honey Don't which was one of the few cover songs The Beatles recorded. At the piano is, Terri Gibbs, a wonderful lady who I had the pleasure of performing with on her Grammy nominated hit, Somebody's Knockin'.

Half A Heart Away

This recording, also from '84, was the second single released by Davis Deluxe. It was one of those records that just laid about here in the U.S. with no real label promotion, surviving on a station here and there randomly picking it up occasionally. In Europe however, it actually did very well in an interesting array of countries including, Sweden, Norway, Belgium, and of all places, Poland.

This picture is from '86, basically an incarnation of Davis Deluxe, "Hi-Test"...Left to right, Gary Davis, Kenny Buttrey and Bucky Barrett. Interesting I chose the term, Hi-Test as this particular line-up was once "marketed" to labels as, Hi-Risk. Kenneth and I were very good friends for 25 years before his death in '04, he is a true musical legend, (not a word I use lightly), in contemporary music. If you listen to radio at all, there is little chance you won't hear something he drummed on throughout the '60's, '70's, '80's and '90's, from, Harper Valley PTA to Jewel's, Who Will Save The World, he put his mark on so many "classics". A brief list would include, Bob Dylan's, Lay Lady Lay, Rainy Day Women 12 & 35, All Along The Watchtower, Jimmy Buffett's, Margaritaville, Cheeseburger In Paradise, Neil Young's, Old Man, Heart Of Gold, Harvest Moon, the list goes on, and on, from Elvis to Dan Folgeberg to Bob Seeger and literally hundreds of others. I am exceedingly proud to have known him, called him a friend and to have had him as a part of my musical legacy. A few recordings of my songs on which he played are included below.

Don't Do Me Outloud

Kenneth and I were one day bemoaning the average boredom level of playing simple, 12 bar blues. He turned to me and said, "Why don't you write us something different?". Coming from "him", I considered the challenge a compliment, and Don't Do Me Outloud was the result...

The Moment She's Gone

I wrote this one in '84, just a simple little, message song. In recording it, everything seemed to just fall into place and this was done in a single take. If every true musician is recognized and remembered for a "stand out" factor in their playing, Kenneth Buttrey's was his snare, his left hand cut like a guillotine, that clean, concise crack of his snare was like an ambush of your senses. This recording displays that talent to its depths.

Hold On (Rock Still Rolls)

A little summertime ditty I wrote while living in Miami on one of my sabbaticals from Nashville. Kenny played all over it, remarking to me once of how much "room" he had to move about in on a tune like this. At the very tail end of the fade out he signed this particular cut with a little rimshot which he later confided to me was his signature on that track and he had done something similar, "hidden" on every track he had ever cut.

With Mister, Everything Is Beautiful himself, Ray Stevens.

Most Memorable Artists...

This is another excerpt from my January, 2011 interview with Beat Magazine USA in which, editor and publisher, Richard McCulley and I lightly touch upon some of the artists I have had the pleasure, honor, and on occasion, the distress of working with over the years.

Come To Me

From '85, Come To Me was the "B" side of, When The Lights Go Down. As was the case many times in the, old days, "B" sides were often played by programmers or DJ's who preferred then over the "A" side or, occasionally, by accident. Never found out how it happened in this case but nonetheless, Come To Me was picked up by a number of stations in Europe and it resulted in my highest charting single there. It is what it was. One of my favorite, Davis Deluxe tunes however as I believe the essence and energy of the song were captured in the recording.

Rights Of Spring

One of a very few instrumentals I've ever composed. Done in '03 for an independent film that never saw the light of day.

UnFuck You

Not for the, faint of heart...Is this a real song? Yes. It began as a joke, of sorts. I then more or less pulled a Frank Zappa and took a perfectly feasible commercial song and rang its death bell by including, that word. Reason? While I am 100% opposed to the gratuitous use of profanity in music, there are the ever rare occasions when only that one word will do. This is an example, quite likely, a "perfect" example. Many, and I do mean, many, of my friends who are professional musicians and music business insiders, believe this song is a viable commercial product however, obviously, "not" with that word in it. Change it? I have had that suggestion made many times. My reply? Realistically, do we have the same song, or, the song at all without it? No. And, in genres such as, Hip Hop or Rap, the word would be perfectly accepted and even more or less expected. Prejudice amongst musical genres? Interesting concept...

There are literally thousands of music hosting, promotional websites out there, most of them free, they all have a mission, to get you to host your music on their site. Why? Why anything nowadays, to eventually make money off of you. But, they're "free", you say. What's that ol' sayin', "Ain't nothin', free". Most are indeed free to sign up to and post some songs, pictures, even videos, okay, so they've given you a hundred MB's of free space, now what? Did you read the TOS, the, Terms of Service? Are they now free to use your music, images, likeness etc. in any reasonable manner they so choose? Bet your booty, granny. Does that adversely affect you? It could. As you can see at the bottom of this page, there are links to a dozen or so sites that I am represented on, for the most part, of all the, freebies, they are the better ones. I use ReverbNation as my main online site because frankly it simply offers the best features and the greatest of ease of managing. I would recommend it to anyone looking for that one site to co-ordinate their online presence in conjunction with a personal website such as this. I use Google Plus, Twitter, Facebook and even MySpace still as tools to simply let people know about my latest efforts.
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This little widget is supposed to permit you to be able to purchase downloads of some of my songs from ReverbNation. Actually, because of where I've placed it on the page it is rather small and though it should work fine if you have the patience, it might be easier to simply visit my RevebNation page by clicking the link above the widget, (Gary Davis At ReverbNation) if you have an overwhelming desire to make me happy by adding one of my tunes to your collection.
There are few things left in this world that I unequivocally swear by, support or endorse. Shure microphones, for instance, you simply need no other. Martin guitars, there are none better. I categorically makes these claims after a lifetime of use and analysis. These simple assessments extend into the world of charitable organizations and social institutions as well. Below are links to groups I have found to be honorable, beyond reproach in their intent and whose efforts are nothing but those of making this world a better place.

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