Bill: Your CD, Septober Octember, seems to mythologize North Florida the way Faulkner did with Mississippi,
Tennessee Williams with New Orleans, or Jack London and Robert Service did with the Yukon.
Dave: I wanted the CD to reflect the geography of North Florida more than mythologize the region or it's people. I
wanted the slow syrupy water from the swampwater runoff mudtrail. I wanted the heat from a moonless 2 a.m.
August moment staring across Trout River at Jackie's Seafood. I wanted the decayed horseshoe crab shell
placed on my head like a helmet while standing in the dunes at Talbot Island...not up to anything in the
dunes...just standing. And yeah, sure, there's Winn Dixie stuff on it too but it relies on the things one might see
out of the corner of your eye around here while looking at something else. Like you're looking ahead at a
carousel in the forest but you find yourself noticing the bandannas lying along the edge of the soccer practice
field next to the forest...really more interested in the bandannas than the carousel. Septober Octember is not
meant to be a comedy CD at all. It's meant to help you smell the beauty in the vapor coming from a small pot of
macaroni as the ice cold wind blows and mixes the vapor into your nostrils blowing across a highly-polished wood
floor in a Riverside apartment. It calls to those times in my life when I could pay attention more to the edge of
tapegrass on a February swamp bank than to a trailer full of lawn mowers following me constantly draining what's
left of my zeitgeist like little gas-powered Draculas. Septober Octember was my celebration of stuffing and gravy,
new green onions in the spring, and the weird Gideon's Bible Dr.John holds on the cover of his seminal 1969
album, Babylon. Recording it was an absolute joy.
Bill: Didn't you follow the Grateful Dead on tour one summer?"
Dave: No. I have a bunch of friends who did, though. Indeed, I was and to a small degree still am a Dead fan, but
no, I couldn't stand to do something like that. The Dead could be disappointing sometimes in concert, particularly
toward the end when Garcia was consumed for the umpteenth time with drugs. I also resented the "rules" of the
Deadhead world, a supposed "free thinking" group of folks who have very strict rules for behavior, appearance
and comportment. But to be sure between the years of 1968 to 1995 I was a major appreciator of the Dead's
improvisational excursions on their "space" instrumental passages. I was actually consumed by their music from
1973's Wake of the Flood album up through the last days of the performing Crawfish. I would go running in those
days with 90 minutes of Dead on my Walkman and Crawfish shows started to get very Dead-like due to that
subconscious influence. Andy King complained about it back then. I disagreed with him then but now I think he
was right. When I listen to Crawfish tapes circa 1988 up to the end in 1998 it does sound too Deadish. It kind of
ruined the originality thing we debuted with in 86 and 87, probably the heyday of the Crawfish. I remember you up
on stage with us at Applejack's in 1987 singing "Let's Cook the Dog," which I think was your tune. Those were the
early days when I had a clearer vision for the band.
Tennessee Williams with New Orleans, or Jack London and Robert Service did with the Yukon.
Dave: I wanted the CD to reflect the geography of North Florida more than mythologize the region or it's people. I
wanted the slow syrupy water from the swampwater runoff mudtrail. I wanted the heat from a moonless 2 a.m.
August moment staring across Trout River at Jackie's Seafood. I wanted the decayed horseshoe crab shell
placed on my head like a helmet while standing in the dunes at Talbot Island...not up to anything in the
dunes...just standing. And yeah, sure, there's Winn Dixie stuff on it too but it relies on the things one might see
out of the corner of your eye around here while looking at something else. Like you're looking ahead at a
carousel in the forest but you find yourself noticing the bandannas lying along the edge of the soccer practice
field next to the forest...really more interested in the bandannas than the carousel. Septober Octember is not
meant to be a comedy CD at all. It's meant to help you smell the beauty in the vapor coming from a small pot of
macaroni as the ice cold wind blows and mixes the vapor into your nostrils blowing across a highly-polished wood
floor in a Riverside apartment. It calls to those times in my life when I could pay attention more to the edge of
tapegrass on a February swamp bank than to a trailer full of lawn mowers following me constantly draining what's
left of my zeitgeist like little gas-powered Draculas. Septober Octember was my celebration of stuffing and gravy,
new green onions in the spring, and the weird Gideon's Bible Dr.John holds on the cover of his seminal 1969
album, Babylon. Recording it was an absolute joy.
Bill: Didn't you follow the Grateful Dead on tour one summer?"
Dave: No. I have a bunch of friends who did, though. Indeed, I was and to a small degree still am a Dead fan, but
no, I couldn't stand to do something like that. The Dead could be disappointing sometimes in concert, particularly
toward the end when Garcia was consumed for the umpteenth time with drugs. I also resented the "rules" of the
Deadhead world, a supposed "free thinking" group of folks who have very strict rules for behavior, appearance
and comportment. But to be sure between the years of 1968 to 1995 I was a major appreciator of the Dead's
improvisational excursions on their "space" instrumental passages. I was actually consumed by their music from
1973's Wake of the Flood album up through the last days of the performing Crawfish. I would go running in those
days with 90 minutes of Dead on my Walkman and Crawfish shows started to get very Dead-like due to that
subconscious influence. Andy King complained about it back then. I disagreed with him then but now I think he
was right. When I listen to Crawfish tapes circa 1988 up to the end in 1998 it does sound too Deadish. It kind of
ruined the originality thing we debuted with in 86 and 87, probably the heyday of the Crawfish. I remember you up
on stage with us at Applejack's in 1987 singing "Let's Cook the Dog," which I think was your tune. Those were the
early days when I had a clearer vision for the band.
| David Roberts, Page 2 |
Bill: Dave, you're a teacher. What's the deal with algebra? I mean,
who uses that stuff except people going into science or
engineering? Why can't it be an elective?
Dave: Algebra requires 3rd-level intellectual thinking because it
utilizes the problem-solving areas of your brain. Humans hate
algebra for the same reasons that humans hate physical
exercise...it's hard, not fun, requires dedication and actually calls
for increased challenge. Also, third level operation increases the
likelihood for failure and humans fear failure. But the fact is,
utilizing this third level of the brain ( called "application" by the
way ) forces the brain to function in ways, problem-solving ways,
that sort of "pave" the way for future problem solving, and not
just in mathematics. You need experience in third-level cognition
in everything from changing a flat tire to performing a delicate
surgery. It's like a mental workout for future needed performance
the same way that physical exercise prepares one for future
needed performance. Algebra is good.
Bill: Well, fine, then. Now that you put it like that...okay. Let's
get back to music. You guys have managed to play with some
legendary perfomers. Tell me about working with those "big-time"
collaborations.
Dave: "Big-time collaborations"...I guess you mean the seven
shows the Crawfish did between 1996 and 1998 with 3 of the San
Francisco psychedelic Haight Ashbury luminaries, Gary Duncan
from Quicksilver Messenger Service, David LaFlamme from It's A
Beautiful Day, and Sam Andrew from Big Brother and the Holding
Company. They were all wonderful and they were all horrible and
every shade in between. The Crawfish burned with such
intensity of devotion and discipleship in learning and performing
the repetoires of all 3 bands that I'm afraid it burned us up. I did
all the financing and lost a small fortune, so that ultimately is the
strongest stamp it all placed upon me. Yeah, it was great to play
with those guys on a certain level, but what I went through to do
it was unfun enough to cloud over the fun. Now, if someone else
was paying for it all I could've enjoyed it more. My mood and level
of crap I was willing to take steadily disintegrated from the first
gig with Duncan up to the point where when Sam Andrew
showed up to do his shows with us in 1998 I wanted absolutely
none of his shit and before long he and I were not really on
speaking terms, although technically the Sam Andrew shows were
the best of all. He was real hard to deal with and I was real hard
to deal with too. I had it at that point with egos and
temperaments and I could tell people had it with mine. We all felt
relief when those gigs were over and it really was the end of the
Crawfish. Ogilvie didn't even play the Sam Andrew show anyway
and if Pat isn't there it can't really be a Crawfish gig to me.
At that point in 98 we were invited twice a year to play Beth and
Randy Judy's Magnolia and Spring Fests on the Suwannee River
and Pat and I decided to scrap the group and play acoustic tunes
from out 1973 repetoire. It was a period of great cleansing and
refreshment to both of us and we formally stopped playing any
gigs except the festivals. We developed quite a little following
using the Crawfish of Love name but not doing Crawfish material.
We turned our backs on it. We recorded what we felt was as
perfect a cd as we could record in Septober Octember. It was
just what we wanted. No need to do it again. We also hated
playing music in bars late into the morning hours so we just went
with the festival gigs. We were invited to play the festival up to
2002 and then we stopped getting invited. So our course had
been run and now we exist only on the specialest of occasions.
We did reunite the original band last August at Brenda Walker's
Chinacat Festival and played a set of the original 1987 Applejack's
repetoire. It went over well with the hippies old and young and it
was great fun but it was enough to keep me satisfied for a long
time.
Bill: Would you ever consider more Crawfish of Love concerts?
Dave: The only gigs I really miss are the Magnoliafest and
Suwannee Springfest gigs. I loved playing under those mossy oaks
lining the Suwannee. I would gladly reconvene the Crawfish under
any format to play on the Suwannee again. But basically, I dislike
playing music in bars late at night hanging around a bunch of
drunks and drug users and cheaters and club owners and
managers and band members who can't make it tonight and all the
absolute shit that goes with trying to play music on this very low
rung in which I abide.
To me the biggest names I've played with are Scott Sisson, Steve
Pruett, Andy King, Pat Ogilvie, and a couple more.
Bill: I think I need to get a petition started. "Bring the Crawfish
back to Magnolia!" Seriously.
who uses that stuff except people going into science or
engineering? Why can't it be an elective?
Dave: Algebra requires 3rd-level intellectual thinking because it
utilizes the problem-solving areas of your brain. Humans hate
algebra for the same reasons that humans hate physical
exercise...it's hard, not fun, requires dedication and actually calls
for increased challenge. Also, third level operation increases the
likelihood for failure and humans fear failure. But the fact is,
utilizing this third level of the brain ( called "application" by the
way ) forces the brain to function in ways, problem-solving ways,
that sort of "pave" the way for future problem solving, and not
just in mathematics. You need experience in third-level cognition
in everything from changing a flat tire to performing a delicate
surgery. It's like a mental workout for future needed performance
the same way that physical exercise prepares one for future
needed performance. Algebra is good.
Bill: Well, fine, then. Now that you put it like that...okay. Let's
get back to music. You guys have managed to play with some
legendary perfomers. Tell me about working with those "big-time"
collaborations.
Dave: "Big-time collaborations"...I guess you mean the seven
shows the Crawfish did between 1996 and 1998 with 3 of the San
Francisco psychedelic Haight Ashbury luminaries, Gary Duncan
from Quicksilver Messenger Service, David LaFlamme from It's A
Beautiful Day, and Sam Andrew from Big Brother and the Holding
Company. They were all wonderful and they were all horrible and
every shade in between. The Crawfish burned with such
intensity of devotion and discipleship in learning and performing
the repetoires of all 3 bands that I'm afraid it burned us up. I did
all the financing and lost a small fortune, so that ultimately is the
strongest stamp it all placed upon me. Yeah, it was great to play
with those guys on a certain level, but what I went through to do
it was unfun enough to cloud over the fun. Now, if someone else
was paying for it all I could've enjoyed it more. My mood and level
of crap I was willing to take steadily disintegrated from the first
gig with Duncan up to the point where when Sam Andrew
showed up to do his shows with us in 1998 I wanted absolutely
none of his shit and before long he and I were not really on
speaking terms, although technically the Sam Andrew shows were
the best of all. He was real hard to deal with and I was real hard
to deal with too. I had it at that point with egos and
temperaments and I could tell people had it with mine. We all felt
relief when those gigs were over and it really was the end of the
Crawfish. Ogilvie didn't even play the Sam Andrew show anyway
and if Pat isn't there it can't really be a Crawfish gig to me.
At that point in 98 we were invited twice a year to play Beth and
Randy Judy's Magnolia and Spring Fests on the Suwannee River
and Pat and I decided to scrap the group and play acoustic tunes
from out 1973 repetoire. It was a period of great cleansing and
refreshment to both of us and we formally stopped playing any
gigs except the festivals. We developed quite a little following
using the Crawfish of Love name but not doing Crawfish material.
We turned our backs on it. We recorded what we felt was as
perfect a cd as we could record in Septober Octember. It was
just what we wanted. No need to do it again. We also hated
playing music in bars late into the morning hours so we just went
with the festival gigs. We were invited to play the festival up to
2002 and then we stopped getting invited. So our course had
been run and now we exist only on the specialest of occasions.
We did reunite the original band last August at Brenda Walker's
Chinacat Festival and played a set of the original 1987 Applejack's
repetoire. It went over well with the hippies old and young and it
was great fun but it was enough to keep me satisfied for a long
time.
Bill: Would you ever consider more Crawfish of Love concerts?
Dave: The only gigs I really miss are the Magnoliafest and
Suwannee Springfest gigs. I loved playing under those mossy oaks
lining the Suwannee. I would gladly reconvene the Crawfish under
any format to play on the Suwannee again. But basically, I dislike
playing music in bars late at night hanging around a bunch of
drunks and drug users and cheaters and club owners and
managers and band members who can't make it tonight and all the
absolute shit that goes with trying to play music on this very low
rung in which I abide.
To me the biggest names I've played with are Scott Sisson, Steve
Pruett, Andy King, Pat Ogilvie, and a couple more.
Bill: I think I need to get a petition started. "Bring the Crawfish
back to Magnolia!" Seriously.
| Dave and Andy wearing monster masks for some reason |
| CD cover |
| Photo of the Spirit of the Suwannee Music Festival by Tim A. Wright. Used by permission. Thanks, Tim! |
