David Morreale

David Morreale


[“From The Dirt” is] a slice of life meditation, an uplifting parable for our times, it is 4:41 of near-perfection ...hits the mark with the force of a jacked-up linebacker on speed. Jeremy Searle, Americana UK, 7/21/05


Someone once said that David's music sounds like “mellifluous blend of sawdust and King Syrup.”

At 16, David left home and spent ten years hitchhiking around Europe and playing his guitar in the London Underground and cities ranging from Athens to Berlin, Paris and Amsterdam.
In 1990, David came back to America, and has spent the last ten years touring and playing in some of the country’s most prestigious venues including Nashville’s Bluebird Cafe, The Bottom Line in NYC, The Point in Bryn Mawr, PA, and Arlene Grocery, NYC as well as many colleges and festivals.
David was a Kerrville New Folk Finalist in 2005, and a recipient of a Maryland State Arts Council Award for Composition, an honour accorded to only 5 composers that year. David was a Finalist in the 2004 Plowshares Songwriting Contest also. He has shared stages with Bob Marley’s Wailers (post-Marley), Brooks Williams, Eliot Bronson, and others.


'From The Dirt"

Written By: David Morreale

Jimmy bought a Christmas present for a cabdriver this year
To pay him back for all the times he dragged his drunk ass outta here
And jimmy is a good man living a bad line
Just doing his level best, gonna get things right this time
Mary knew Count Basie even had an affair for a hot New York minute
She said don’t put me in no song, boy, I said “Mary, it’s too late, you’re already in it.”
But that was in the dim and distant I was younger then than now she said
And the days just pass faster though I couldn’t tell you how

Like angels we start out naked
We earn our feathers with our hurt
Let wings become of those feathers
Gonna lift us from the dirt

Harry talks in sentences of 7 words or less
But he takes good care of his momma in his own defense
Now Harry never made it past the 4th grade it just wasn’t in the plan
But he knows you don’t need no education, not to be a good man
Jeremy wrote tunes on an old Gibson guitar
And he played that thing until his fingertips bled
And he took it down to Nashville where he thought he might belong
But Nashville’s a heartbreak town and down there they’ll break your heart for a song

We’re like children struggling in our hearts
But there is honour here, and beauty
in this fighting in the dark

And if not for this corner this store would have nowhere to be
and they’d have to serve that red velvet cake
and serve it for free
you know that heaven is just a condition
where job is a four-letter word
and we’d all get cash prizes
for not running with the herd

Lyrics and music © David Morreale 2005

"(the beginning of) The Road Years"

Written By: David Morreale

I hitch-hiked to Lake Pontchartrain
Once when I was thirteen
Tried to exorcise my freedom
If you know what I mean
I was a bullet
And a wing upon the air
and my dusty boots
Carried me there

It was the beginning of the road years
Godspeed on pavement and prayer
Kindness and strangers, they sometimes mixed
And together they got me here
It was the beginning of the road years

And when I made it back
By the tip of my thumb
It was hell and it was heaven both
To be greeted by my mothers arms
A little bit bitter
a little bit sweet
still a boy with a man’s
boots on his feet


I call them the road years
And I rode them without a clue
And in my quiet way
I’m still riding them to you
I saw palaces and princes
And vagabond thieves
And I was blessed by every woman
In every bed that I’d leave

and I drove to Lake Pontchartrain
again one day last year
trying to see the boy I’d been
so young and so foolish, and so very full of fear
as long as the Pontchartain bridge
was that span of time
and I love all the years between
because they’re mine

Lyrics and music © David Morreale 2005


Written By: David Morreale

I gotta get out
Gotta get in
Gotta figure out where I begin
Gotta get in
Gotta get out
Gotta figure out what I’m about

It’s like this is one of those silent black and white movies
With the piano playing
I see on the screen their lips are moving
But I can’t hear what they’re saying
Then I come to see I am the piano keys
I am the notes between

It’s like this is a strange land
And I’m a stranger in it
I’m here without my passport and I got no ticket
Got no language, cash or time
So I stand in the ticket line forevermore
Then I come to see I am the air moving
I am the space between

Standing on the edge of a cliff
Hearing the call
Afraid of the rocks below
Afraid of it all
Well take heart you beautiful thing
And though your fear is in the air
We grow our wings as we fall

If you’re feeling all alone
Like you define the number one
And the gatekeepers won’t let you in
Do yourself a favour
Be your own personal saviour
Decide for yourself where you fit in

You gotta get out
You gotta get in
Gotta figure out where you begin
You gotta get in
You gotta get out
Gotta figure out what you’re about

Lyrics and music © David Morreale 2005


"From The Dirt" - 2005
Out now on Mud Luscious Records!

"The Book of David" - 1999

Listen to tunes from both CD's at

Set List

"I've been known to cover everyone from Tom Petty to any of the Bruce's and Bob's...Bruce Cockburn, Bruce Springsteen, Bob Marley, or Bob Dylan... George Michael sometimes sneaks in as does anything funky and fun!
A typical setlist is based on tunes from these folks and more, to both of my CD's plus new tunes from the next CD plus anything I feel like playing at the time! I aim to have fun so my audience has fun too."