The beginning of David Dondero’s new album sounds like the riff from Pinhead by The Ramones being mutilated by a particular off-balance ‘Blood On The Tracks’ era Dylan. Dondero’s voice then enters with all the politeness of a sledgehammer, almost wheezing out the words “Jesus from twelve to six”. He sounds like Conor Oberst’s alcoholic older uncle. You’re unsure of whether his voice will break with emotion before the end of the line, or whether Dodero will simply give up trying. When he gets to the chorus, singing “I’ve got a feeling there’s no more left” like a wounded deer, you absolutely believe him.
Speaking of the song’s inspiration Dondero says he saw a man drunkenly ranting and raving outside Camden Lock. An unlikely mutual acquaintance of the two strangers remarked “he's always Jesus from 12 to 6… then he's Beelzeebubba from 6 to midnight”. This quote obviously left a mark with Dondero. Quickly approaching his fortieth birthday and taking all those very helpful ‘forty is the new twenty’ remarks with a pinch of salt, he resolved to keep his open enthusiasm for life burning bright. “It’s not a death march, it’s a life march” he has recently spouted, “got to live it up now, number ones and zeros”.
Stemming from the tradition of great American songwriting troubadours, Dondero deals with narrative, acoustic driven songs. Taking in his solo work and his first band Sunbrain, Dondero has released ten records since the early 90s. It seems whenever he finds himself with enough inspiration and acquaintances to record a set of songs, he’ll do it. “I didn’t think I had another song in me… they just crept up on me and wouldn’t leave me alone” he says. Although this stock phrase is fired off whenever an artist wishes to flag up intrigue for a newly recorded work, the fact that Dondero’s Myspace page is personally asking for places to stay on a future Canadian tour reveals it may be far more instinctive than some of his contemporaries.
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After the barn-storming opener the album takes a more reflective approach. Dondero takes stock of his lot in life: accepting his mortal limitations and looking fondly on the choices he has made. Just A Baby In Your Momma’s Eyes finds him as a passive observer on the towns he grew up in, commenting “the only thing that changes is the uniform arrangement of style” before wearily adding “we used to be friends”. He also appears dismissive of the ties some of his peers have laid down, celebrating his nomadic lifestyle later in the record with the battle cry of “wherever you go, then there you are”.
However none of this quite meets the heights of the opener. After the thrilling head-on collision between his ideals and what his body will now realistically allow him to do, the comfortable acceptance that follows feels like a bit of a cop-out. His bluesy-folk musings fail to grab your imagination in the same way and overall, the few moments of real excitement are drowned out by songs that feel…cosy.
David Dondero on Myspace
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