Hi, My name’s Donny.
Photo by James Hunter
I fucked up.
40 years in rock ’n’ roll and nothing to show for it.
Unless you count thousands of shows, hundreds of songs, dozens of guitars, more memories than dreams, the best family of old friends ever — with always room one more — then I guess you could say I have just about everything.
“Hey, the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle ain’t for everyone.”
Circa 1983
My story is the story of so many others who left their less-than-ideal childhood, their horizonless hometown, to chase that rock ’n’ roll dream. And like so many others, those dreams never fully materialized. Not in the ways we had hoped.
But I have learned to appreciate the value of failure. And I have learned to understand the right kind of success.
At 16, I told my mom I was quitting school and moving to Hollywood. She gave me a clipping from a magazine that read:
“I’d rather be a failure doing something I love than a success doing something I hate.”
It’s been 40+ years since then. And I’m happy to report the above is true and right.
(Thanks, Mom!)
“Hey, at least I’ll never be a has-been.”
Photo by Matt Kollasch
To my credit, I’ve performed on some of the best stages in the best venues with the best musicians in the country. I’ve shared stages with some of my all-time favorite artists. I’ve performed on more than my fair share of not-so-nice stages too. I’ve even played in places with no stage at all.
I’ve written hundreds of songs, recorded dozens of them. Some of them are actually really good — if I say so myself. I’ve released a couple full-length albums, a few EPs, some demos, and two singles in early 2020. Perfect timing, right?
Past/Prologue will be released as soon as musically possible. I can only hope the damage done to my adopted hometown of Asheville, North Carolina won’t ruin another perfectly timed effort.
I would love to record what will likely be my last full-length long-playing record album entitled History. Not only is it my second “gig,” it’s also the state of my musical career: history.
I would additionally like to do what can only be called my farewell tour and criss-cross this country one more time. See old friends, make some new ones. Say hi, say bye. Think of me as your rock ’n’ roll door-to-door salesman.
While paying for past mistakes may be painful, it’s also rife with life lessons. I’ve learned there’s a song for every story and a story for every song. Songs and stories that speak to the soul. To remind us the reasons we fell in love with rock ’n’ roll in the first place.
I’ve bought, sold, played, traded, wept and bled over some of the best guitars and amps ever made. I’ve recorded with world-class producers in world-class studios. I’ve recorded in a couple crappy closets too. I’ve been courted by major labels and rejected by some of the biggest names in showbiz. I’ve stood shoulder-to-shoulder with some legends in rock ’n’ roll history. Even shared libations with a few. But brushing elbows with greatness is not shaking its hand.
“Hey, you can’t say I didn’t try.”
I have always had a love/hate relationship with my voice.
I love singing. Some people hate listening.
I think I have a unique, awesome (albeit loud) voice with gobs of character. Others, well, not so much.
“His voice sounds like granite being dragged across a cheese-grater.”
You have to admit, that’s a good one.
The author did follow with a more flattering assessment:
“Fortunately, nothing can deconstruct the toe-tapping nature of his songs. They’re a joy to listen to.”
One night opening a show for Jerry Jeff Walker at the Hoyt-Sherman Theater in Des Moines, I woke up to the following review:
“His bar-band heart was in the right place.”
It almost always is. And yes, even the compliment was a little back-handed.
And my fave to this day because I should have, could have, would have told more stories from the stage. If only I had known then what I know now:
“Granted his lyrics were impossibly offensive, but Brazile’s relaxed air, genuine love of performing, and his charming — if not necessary — monologues, completely engaged.”
At one of my last gigs, before the music went mute, a cocktail napkin was handed to me that read:
“Stop screeching. Lower your vocals.”
A) It’s not what cocktail napkins usually request; and B) I wondered if should I feel offended given that’s just how my voice sounds — or C) I should feel vindicated because now I know how Geddy Lee feels. (D: All of the above?)
Nobody knows my voice better than I do. And no one knows my desire to sing more than I do. So, yeah.
I guess they’re all compliments. I’m doing what I love. If you like it, sweet. If not, that’s cool too.
“Hey, why do you think they call ’em critics, anyway?”
Oh, I’m an entertainer alright. And I’ve got my stories. I’ve shared fond memories with the best of fans and friends. I’m proud to call them family. We’ve laughed, listened, and loved the songs we have shared together. I’ve endured a few assholes too. Don’t even get me started on the ladies. No, really. Just don’t. We don’t have that kind of time. But their stories, too, are in my songs.
How the starry-eyed kid with all the hope in the world became the twinkly-eyed old man without a hope in hell, I may never know. But it is testament to my love of the magic in the moment — and the music itself.
Listen, you don’t have to be a household name to have a home in rock ’n’ roll. And you don’t have to have fame and fortune to live a charmed life.
“It may be a long way to the top, but it’s an even longer stay at the bottom.”
There is no mansion on the hill. No platinum albums adorning the walls. No drug-addled stories of a misspent youth, divorces from supermodels or reality show comebacks. There is just me and my guitar. A genuine performer and a heartfelt body of work in my 40-year wake.
I’ve honestly made more memories than I now have dreams. (And who wants to die with more dreams than memories? Not me, that’s for sure.) I’m only hoping to make a few more. As my rock ’n’ roll wordsmith hero Neil Peart often bemused, I wonder if my 16-year-old self would be proud of my 60-year-old self? Well, yes. And thanks, man.
And like so many others who love rock ’n’ roll as much as I do, I’m still at it. (I’m not sure I’ve ever even had a choice.) One more for the road. One last hurrah. The final act. Maybe I’ll keep doing what I have always been doing until I can do it no more. Playing guitar, writing songs, performing them — sharing my stories — with anyone who will listen. And I will continue to live the life I love and love the life I live.
“Hey, the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle ain’t for everyone.”
Photo by Jeff Santiago
But it is for me.
Most people are far too worried about outcomes. Far too few enjoy the process. Because that’s your life. Right there. Pay attention to that.
It’s what you do with your dreams that matters.
Finding the wrong kind of success isn’t nearly as rewarding as doing what you love. Even if the money doesn’t follow.
So yeah, I fucked up.
But I have lived a wonderful life on my own beautiful terms.
And sure, I may live in a tiny place. But it’s a really nice tiny place. And it’s not my mom’s.
Life isn’t perfect. Never has been. Never will be. There will undoubtedly be more disappointments to come — both personal and professional.
I could be angry. I could be bitter, calloused. But what’re my options? No, thank you. I’d rather be happy. Beauty and truth haven’t let me down yet.
This isn’t a story of silver linings. Nor is it some 21st Century Spinal-Tap-Pollyanna-Also-Ran lovefest. Although that would be funny. And sad. Same difference. (“What’s wrong with being wistful?” he asks in his best faux-British accent.)
Photo by my mom
Go ahead. Cue The Kinks — A Rock ’n’ Roll Fantasy. It’s all in there.
Success and failure do indeed walk in hand-in-hand.
And failure may well be the best teacher of all. It certainly builds character. And if you haven’t guessed by now, I’ve got plenty of that.
Granted, there is still much missing from my life. And in a post-pandemic world on the brink of God knows what, performing as much as I would like might be next to non-existent. But I am contented. And I couldn’t be happier.
I’ve spent my life doing what I love with who I love.
“If that’s not a true American success story, it’s true enough.”
