18 September 19 - 25, 2024 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents A t the corner of Bryan and Scripture streets in Denton sits the Rock Philosopher’s den for the night. It looks like the other old-frame houses that are dwarfed by apartment build- ings throughout the neighborhood. The sign out front reads “El Cucuy Burritos.” It’s a spot where bands descend for late-night jam sessions on a stage in the backyard. Dave Crimaldi, aka the “Rock Philosopher,” has chosen this spot in late June to host several musicians, including Wee Beasties’ lead singer Richard Haskins, a former kind-of bank robber who wreaks havoc on stage in nothing but his Speedos. “What great rock ‘n’ roll does is convert all who witness it into believers,” Crimaldi philosophizes via his Rock Philosopher blog, a site he started in 2013 when he was covering Bangkok’s underground music scene. “It’s like watching Jesus rise from the dead, only he’s tattooed, horns coming out of his fucking head, and a guitar hanging around the neck.” Despite Crimaldi’s plans, Jesus isn’t ris- ing from the dead with a guitar around his neck on this Friday night, and neither are Haskins and several other musicians who backed out of the event at the 11th hour. It’s an alcohol-free one. The new owner, Crimaldi says, doesn’t have an alcohol li- cense yet and doesn’t want the responsibil- ity that comes with hosting a BYOB event. If the police were called, and an officer got in- jured trying, for example, to remove a drunken mostly naked sweaty singer from the stage, the property owner could be held liable to cover the officer’s hospital bill, ac- cording to the city manager’s office. Inside the Tex-Mex restaurant, Crimaldi sits behind his drum kit, which a friend re- cently purchased for him, in an open area in the back. The crowd comprises mostly mu- sicians on the bill and includes Lynn Brooks, a Denton fixture known as the “Dancing Man.” A retired sound engineer, Brooks re- sembles Saruman from The Lord of the Rings with his long white hair and beard. Crimaldi calls him “The White Wizard” of Denton’s music scene, especially given his 50-year connection to it, fixing amps for local musi- cians such as the Grammy-winning Brave Combo. Dressed in black, with his dancing shoes on, Brooks, who’s in his early 70s, struggles to stand still at El Cucuy. “I can’t sit down,” he says. “I have to dance.” He begins casting spells with his feet as he vibes with Crimaldi’s beat. A trippy jazz funk improvisation rever- berates off the pink walls in a plug-your- ears kind of way. Sporting long dark hair, thick glasses and a red T-shirt that reads “Denton Fucking Texas,” Crimaldi lays down a funky beat for guitarist Joey Cerda, a musician 25 years his junior who impro- vises jazz standards. Crimaldi, who’s 50, has been temporarily staying with the White Wizard, but signs sug- gest that the Shire may instead be the land of Mordor. He knows that he’ll be on the streets again. He’s no stranger to them, not since his arrival (on a friend’s recommendation) in 2019 from Austin via New Orleans and Thai- land, where he spent more than a decade chronicling his adventures in the local music scene as the Rock Philosopher. Since his arrival, Crimaldi has become part of several local bands, including Elec- tric Mayhem, The Norah Jonestown Mas- cara and Stabbing Unicorns. He’s also one of several hundred people locally who struggle with homelessness. Housing affordability is difficult for wandering bards such as Crimaldi not only in Denton but for most Texans, according to a recent poll by the University of Houston and Texas Southern University. Though recognized as one of 60 music- friendly cities by the state, Denton doesn’t have the safety nets in place for musicians like some of the other music-friendly cities. Austin, for example, has the Austin Ten- nant’s Council, which offers tenants help, and a program called Housing Opportuni- ties for Musicians and Entertainers, which offers housing assistance grants up to $500, though applicants must be at least 55 years old and have been working as a musician for 20 years. There’s also the Health Alliance for Aus- tin Musicians (HAAM), which has provided access to more than $144 million in health- care services to 6,700 musicians in seven counties since 2005. Rachel Blair, the chief operating officer at HAAM, says membership has increased 61% since 2016 and that 70% of HAAM’S musi- cians are engaged in work outside of music. “What they tell us is that despite wanting to do music full-time, they really have to do full-time traditional employment or work outside music to have any kind of sustain- ability. Think about how tired you might be. Your left-over energy is gone. It not only costs our musicians but also our community in terms of the number of songs written, bands formed and albums produced.” Blair says higher housing costs caused by the pandemic and inflation haven’t helped matters. “Think about what musicians need to survive and stay in the place,” Blair says. “They need institutional support and venues to play in that pay a decent wage. They need access to healthcare and affordable housing and community, among other things. We know that there is a direct intersection be- tween health and housing, and if you’re un- housed, it is very difficult to maintain a healthy lifestyle and access to healthcare.” Austin is in the Philosopher’s sights, but the Denton Community Shelter has been on Crimaldi’s mind. It’s the only 24-hour low- barrier shelter in the area. But it’s overrun with hundreds of people who are trying to escape the heat. A few have been turned away. Being homeless has taught Crimaldi the art of the side hustle. He has turned the Rock Philosopher’s philosophies into a brand that has appeared on beer, T-shirts and coffee cups. “Denton Fucking Texas” is one of those. It’s printed in large letters on T-shirts he sells for $20 at local hangouts such as II Charlies on Sunset Street and Re- cycled Books on the city square. Promoting and working at local music festivals is another side hustle. He worked on a stage at Fry Street and Fair, founded the two-day Beer Alley Noise Market Festival in 2019 and put it on again earlier this year. He took inspiration from the Noise Market DIY festivals in Bangkok and invited various bands he’s met along his journey, including Tape Slam, a band with old high-school bandmate and longtime Vanity Fair journal- ist Mike Hogan. Tape Slam has an EP releasing in Sep- tember. They recently released “Calling the Night” on Spotify, Bandcamp, Apple Music and YouTube. It’s a song that Crimaldi says is about a fictional situation of a friend in the throes of alcohol addiction. He says it re- minded him of Haskins. The image of Haskins in his Speedos at a bar serves as the song’s cover art, photo- graphed by rock photographer Curtis Smith, known for his photos of the Sex Pistols. Crimaldi and Hogan are also gearing up for a mega mini tour of the Northeast in ▼ Music Christopher Durbin Unhoused Melodies Like Many Texas musicians, Denton’s ‘Rock Philosopher’rises above homelessness. BY CHRISTIAN MCPHATE Dave Crimaldi, Denton’s Rock Philospher, spent time in Austin, New Orleans and Bangkok.
