Welcome to Davey Dreamnation!

Davey Dreamnation aka David Prater is an Australasian-born writer, editor and researcher who now lives in the third person.

While he did not invent the Internet, Davey has nevertheless made some incredible discoveries during the course of his life here on earth.

This website has been online since around 2001 and contains hundreds of posts, including music reviews, galleries, audio tracks, some oddities, a handful of memorable quotes and one lemonade waterfall.

If you’re looking for more information about Davey Dreamnation’s music, you might also want to check out the DNRC Records site, which is currently undergoing a rejuvenaissance, thanks to the fantastic and totally voluntary efforts of Les Tombeaux.

Feel free to drop us a line if you’d like to get in touch.


Preoccupations: ‘Disarray’ (live/not live)

Almost 10 years ago I witnessed a Calgary band called Women (actually four young guys) wipe the floor with an Atlanta band called Deerhunter (same) at Paradiso in Amsterdam. Shortly after, Women’s guitarist passed away in his sleep, the band broke up and two members formed the nucleus of a new band, the unfortunately named Viet Cong (also guys, none of them Vietnamese), who sounded pretty similar to Women to be honest, although with maybe a little extra edge.

Then Viet Cong rebranded themselves as Preoccupations and, perhaps to my relief, pursued a musical trajectory that I am continuing to explore and appreciate today.

True story: I booked a ticket to see Preoccupations at the Horseshoe Tavern in Toronto in April this year, and was really looking forward to seeing them (maybe even a little proud of myself for still having that indie ‘edge’).

When I arrived in Toronto a freak snow event laid waste to the entire downtown area, and in my jetlagged state I stumbled around the Queen Street/Kingston Market precinct for two days, freaking out at the blatant and open drug use (perhaps I’ve been living in Sweden for too long) and, at various times, crouched terrified in my hotel room as the guests across the corridor screamed at each other, causing management to call the police and evict them.

“Edgy enough for you now?” I asked myself, not knowing the time, or even the safest way to evacuate my room should some wastoid break the feeble lock on the door and make a lunge for my hair gel.

I actually went down to the Horseshoe Tavern on the afternoon of the gig, while the soundcheck was in progress. I was sitting in the front bar, watching Canadian basketball and listening to the band playing in the other room, when the music stopped. Then the lead singer, Matt Flegel (who is the solemn-looking guy walking along the beach in the ‘Disarray’ film clip: no Tears for Fears-style big furry jumpers present), walked out the front door, presumably to have a durrie. He gave me the weirdest look as he went past me, almost as if to ask, ‘Why are you here?”.

It was a good question.

“Well, I’m the Publications Manager for the only intergovernmental organization with the sole mandate to support democracy worldwide, and I’m actually in town to attend the Creative Common Summit, in the hope that it will give me some ideas about how to ensure that our knowledge products, which are informed by most excellent editorial and design principles, are read and enjoyed by the greatest number of people possible,” went my imaginary reply.

“But my musical tastes are still quite edgy, really, and so I thought I’d come along to your show tonight. What time do you think you’ll be onstage?”

Back in reality, after finishing my beer, I trudged through the foot-thick-Slurpie detritus of the snowstorm, now into its third day, to a drinks session organized as part of the CC conference, down by the lake. They had a serious bar tab going there, including spirits, and I lost track of time talking to young creative types about CC licences, Mongolia and the commons. I was one of the last to leave.

By the time I stumbled out of the lakeside bar it was approaching 11pm. I skated, once again, through that merciless slickstain of freezing sludge, and back to the Horseshoe Tavern, only to find that Preoccupations had finished their set 15 minutes before I arrived. I sat at the bar, ordered a very cold gin and tonic, and consoled myself with the fact that I had at least heard them play, if only for a few moments.

In hindsight, maybe I should have followed Matt Flegel out the door that afternoon and chatted with him for a few minutes. I mean, I’d travelled halfway around the fricking world to see his band. Who knows, maybe we would have hit it off. By the somewhat mopey looks of him in this film clip (a style which I once thought of, not unreasonably, as my default), and considering the title of the song, ‘Disarray’, it’s not as far-fetched as you might think.

Cross-posted to FB. 

i remember 제주도

for Choi Sung Hee

i remember jeju-do: that living eye,
a candy-coloured sky that was remote-
controlled by halla-san, or lord muck,
a lady mountain gathering her skirts
around her as a cloud sucks up rain. 

i remember 제주 4·3 사건, although we
were not there, bullets like a maze,
weeping in secluded lanes, wounds as
big as tangerines & the green moulds 
all over the dead (the reds, the red

i remember gangjeong peace zone, cute
as a postcard, & its anti-nuke murals
(white wall with that painted-on tree 
whose outline mirrored that of a real
tree (its leaves greener than my hopes

i remember kang dong kyun, the mayor,
was arrested for protesting too much - 
and for eating too little in his cell,
his hunger strike embarrassing some,
while electrifying the people's media 

i remember "Touch not one flower, not 
one stone!", a great mantra for daily
living, just like mayor kang's letters,
each beginning with the line: dear 
mr. noam chomsky! dear mr. chomsky!

i remember seogwipo, quiet six pm city 
on the island's south side, the flowers
in boxes lining the steep path down to
the marina, & the harbour, & the wooden
restaurant where the mosquitoes ate us

i remember u-do, tiny postage stamp of
an island, where the haenyo plied their 
trade, sleek as seals in black diving
suits, surfacing with buckets full of 
sea anemones & sea's salt-water tears

but i forgot you, funny dol hareubang, 
like manwha characters playing dead,
frozen into stone on the mountainside. 
there'll be no memorial service for you
who can't remember, let alone regret.