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Wednesday Wadio: Don Lennon’s ‘Really Dave Matthews’.


in Wednesday Wadio

“Lennon’s fans love his farcical, enigmatic lyrics and his crystalline pop sensibility for what they are. And if he’s not yet a big name in his home town, he may soon be able to look forward to a wider audience in the Gulf region. As one reviewer writes on that populist arena of rock-crit discourse, Amazon.com (where Lennon’s three-album average is a solid 4.8 stars out of 5), “Play this CD for the people of Iraq and they would agree that the USA is good.” – The Boston Phoenix

If a little Lennon is all we need as an endgame for Iraq, we should be able to wrap it all up by this time next week. Anyhew, I hate Dave Matthews. But that’s not why I like this song. Nor do I like it for a certain aforementioned reasons which were touched upon yesterday. Rather, I love Really Dave Matthews because in addition to themes of loneliness, awkward youth and autumn, it’s a practical example of the insane lengths intelligent males will go to to get their noodles wet.

When Don Lennon’s 3rd album, Downtown, got reviewed by Pitchfork and the Village Voice, it was a special day for all of us. It was validation for friends and fans everywhere that Lennon had finally arrived. 3 years later, although you’ve still never heard of him, he’s known and respected by his musical peers and actually has quite a sizeable following across the pond and in pockets of the American midwest. Don told me once that getting to Sweden to do a show and watching a large crowd sing his lyrics back to him was a truly mind-blowing experience.

“Musically, Downtown sounds a little like Belle & Sebastian fronted by Bruce McCulloch from “Kids in the Hall.” – Pitchfork.

There are songs of Don’s I have grown to like better in the days since 2002, but Really Dave Matthews is what I always shove on to the uninitiated. His first 2 albums are also very special in my opinion, but it’s best not to dig too deeply into the crates right off the bat. Because RDM is a perfect summary of some of the bigger guns in Lennon’s developing arsenal – subtle humor, pop culture references and tunes so catchy that you’ll inevitably be asked to stop whistling one or two of them at some stage. Aggressively.

“I’m not really making fun of Dave Matthews. It’s hard to point to one line where I make fun of him. You just couldn’t do it.” – Don Lennon

The song’s protagonist is a first year college student who pretends to like Dave Matthews in order to impress a girl. He’s a better man than I. Sure, I’ve pretended to be things to impress a girl before – sensitive, a good listener, heterosexual – but to lower myself to the level of the DMB army just to get a little dorm room action? That’s a grenade not even I would be willing to jump on. It’s sweet, earnest and I dare you not to whistle the denoument/outro to yourself at any point today after listening. You know the Routine – Listen to Don Lennon’s “Really Dave Matthews” right now on Last.FM.

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The Unwritten Sidewalk Rule


in

I hate to use this site as a sounding board for my own personal whinginess (like every other mediocre blog in the free world), so please forgive me while this post degenerates into little more than a moany gripe today. And for all the sex killings.

Even though we’re well into September, Boston’s sidewalks are still teeming with tourists and will be for some time. As a result, navigating my daily walk to and from the Theatre District from my home in the North End can be nothing short of infuriating. I bite my cheek and remind myself that one day I’ll live in the country.

But there’s one particular irk I just can’t stifle – and that’s the myriad of daily portages I am forced to make around people who go against the grain on the city’s sidewalks. My perception is thus – a sidewalk can be considered a highway for people on which one should keep to their right as much as possible. If they fail to do so, they should be ‘chin-checked’ or, at the very least slapped with a whale cock. But this hasn’t been festering for a long time or anything.

If I went to Scotland, rented a car and started zipping around on the wrong side of the road, I’d eventually be arrested or even killed in a head-on collision. But it’s not just tourists that careen all over the bustling walkways – there are plenty of native bumpkins and simple idiots who do it too. So am I a lunatic, or is this wrong-side-of-the-sidewalk grievance something that many others share? I am genuinely curious.

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The Return Of Don Lennon.


in Uncategorized

‘Don‘ and I went to high school together. And just recently Montreal. But I want you to know that has very little to do with my love of his music. He’s an original, and his shizzy is tight. But don’t take my word for it – look for him on Wednesday Wadio tomorrow, and save this date if you know him or are just a curious live music fan – he makes his triumphant return to Boston October 14th at the Milky Way. Sometimes one must actually go to Jamaica Plain.

His new album, Routine, is out now and you can buy it using PayPal by clicking the link. With song titles like “What SNL Stands For” – and an entire ditty about the day John Ritter died – the mold will continue to be broken, stomped on and fed under a steamshovel for a long time to come. Welcome back, Don. Can’t wait to have a listen or 14.

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Congratulations Chris & Heather!


in Heartwarming

The finish line was crossed this past weekend when I attended my final Summer 2005 wedding-related event. And it was a gasser. But enough about me – my friends Chris and Heather have been together for a very long time and finally made honest Newportians out of eachother Saturday afternoon. A reception followed at the Glen Manor house, but the festivities started long before then. By the time I crawled across the threshold of my apartment late last night, I’d been burnt, punched, pickled and even lost at sea. But in the midst of all the zaniness, one of the best weddings I’ve ever been to took place.

Jim and I drove down Friday night after work, and met Kinger, John and Steph, Clarkey and Detroit Velvet Smooth at the Sports Ticket around 10pm. We then headed over to the Cheeky Monkey where the rehersal dinner was held to meet up with the rest of the gang. An open bar, speeches, old friends, hugs and a narrowly averted street brawl with liquored locals rounded out our stay. After a quick shot one street up at Sabina Doyle‘s, and a fly by of Via Via to look for particularly intoxicated females to take back to our phatio roofdeck patio (I wish I were kidding) – we rolled back to the house we were staying at on Goodwin street. I once heard that when Michael Caine was researching this role, he hung out on main street for a night with Kinger.

A great time was had by all, and it flowed (literally) into Sunday where after an exceptional catered brunch we took to the high seas, only to have the motor cut out and be set adrift. Luckily some helpful fishermen pulled us back to the dock just after dark, and I’m not currently writing this on a laptop made out of an anchor and coconuts. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves. I have SO many so I’m going to pick 40 or thereabouts and put the rest up when I get around to them (never). Thanks for having us, kids – and here’s to a long, wonderful life together.

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