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Things were silent in David Westerns home growing up - no one around for miles. The tag ‘weird’ slapped unto him early on by friends and enemies alike.
If there ever was a sound fuelling the fledgling artist within David’s spirit it was the endless stream of all time great songwriters being pressed into his subconscious by his father. These songs David would recall word for word some twenty years later having not heard that music since those early years. The influence of whom can be heard in David’s music today - that of John Prine, Bob Dylan, Gillian Welch…
Into his teen years David would be captivated by strange and illegally sourced bootlegs of Elliott Smith and sub-pop culture television, shaping his view of the world, humour and perspective. High school was never any help. With few friends and personal influences, the autodidactic David scrapbooked his view of art and humanity entirely from the boundless parameters of his imagination and cared not for what he thought the world may expect of him, for of that world he knew nothing.
Now David lives in Melbourne Australia, is in his late twenties and is what many consider to be the artists’ artist. The musicians musician. A proficient guitarist, an accomplished songwriter. David has no intention of being ‘found’ - in fact he plans to always be that lost, strange boy emerging from the mud of Gunditjmara country that bred him. It may be interesting to hear what he has to say before he returns to the soil that concocted this strange, ethereal poet.
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