 Francis Dunnery Paving the Middle Passage with Gold |
No, he hasn't abandoned his music career. He has a new album out this spring and has been collaborating with Woodstock-based keyboardist David Sancious. But he's also transforming lives through astrological counseling, meeting with clients in Manhattan, Philadelphia, Boston and Sharon, CT.
Snow is falling heavily outside my window as I call the Northern England-born Dunnery at his Manhattan flat. The warm temperatures and traffic aren't allowing the snow to settle there; Upstate there's a foot on the ground already. Dunnery's thick Scottish accent is punctuated with laughter as we chat, and he's charismatic and comical. He's also no-nonsense, particularly adamant about being taken seriously regarding his astrological studies and 16-year background in Jungian psychology.
"Certain horoscopes make it harder for people to accept astrology into their lives, simply because they're absolutely ridiculous," he begins. "I'm talking about something that's incredibly intellectual, and if people think I'm Mystic Meg with a crystal ball, it's insulting." He speaks a bit more of appearances, referencing Rod Stewart's faux pas in 1973. "They'll say put the clown shoes on, then they take a photograph of you, and you end up looking like a complete asshole."
Currently there are no clown shoes in this man's closet. His keen intellect is apparent from minute one, his observations about life right on target. Clearly, Dunnery gets it. He's moving through the period he calls "the middle passage" of life, laughing at who he once was. "A long blonde haired, nice skinny chap with leather pants, running across the stage shouting 'We're gonna kick ass tonight!' By the time the universe had ripped me an asshole about 65 times, there wasn't much of that left. The journey between 35 and 42 is quite difficult sometimes. You go in one end as one person and come out the other end as something completely different. Who we think we are gets killed by who we really are. We suffer a psychological death of that personality we were at 35. At the ripe old age of 42, I'm not prepared to be pleasing anymore. This is what I want to do and I'm going to do it."
Growing up as a musician was difficult for Dunnery. He started playing professionally at age 11, but never felt fully authentic. Parts of him seemed missing, and music alone couldn't contain him. Looking back, he sees how desperately he tried to find outlets for his person. He studied psychology, read Seth books, and attended UK lectures by astrologer Liz Greene, yet he realized he was sacrificing parts of his own nature by getting caught up with the wrong people, flunking out of school, and going on the road to rock.
Dunnery first came to prominence in the mid–'80s with the prog-rock UK band It Bites, at the helm with his flashy guitar. They recorded three albums. He later took his high-energy musicianship and seductive tales into a solo career, moving from Virgin to Atlantic Records and recording six albums. He's been compared to kindred spirits Elliott Smith, Peter Gabriel, Richard Thompson and Mary Lou Lord, though his edgy, melodic sounds and grand variety of musical styles have earned him a successful name on his own. When Dunnery entered his middle age, however, everything changed. He's at Touro College in NYC full-time now and graduates with a Bachelor's in June. He's been accepted into Columbia and will move toward his Doctorate in Psychology beginning next January. "Touro was the only college to take me, given the fact that I have no qualifications," he explains. "No GED, nothing. On paper, I'm as dumb as a box of spanners."
Dunnery has recently begun putting his fringe ideas out there on the airwaves. He co-hosts a talk/music radio show with Christine Zoro of WKZE 98.1 FM, identifying Zoro as "the fair, honest, and decent face," and himself as "the bastard." Though "Aquarian Nation" will eventually be aired on WKZE and is in the process of being marketed to radio stations nationwide, it's currently aired only at www.aquariannation.com and www.365live.com. Musically, the program plays everything from Captain Beefheart to Donny Osmond, but Dunnery tends not to talk about astrology on the show. "I know how annoying it is for people who aren't into it," he says. "It pisses them off. Unfortunately, people don't study it that much. As Liz says, reading the horoscope in a magazine is like listening to the Spice Girls and saying you know about music. So I try to avoid it. I talk a lot about psychology, though. Everyone is interested in themselves, really." He laughs. "Aren't they?"
Dunnery also loves to write, expounding his ideas in lengthy psychology articles. Slowly, he plans to move into other areas of writing. "I have secret ideas about going up against the medical profession, and the way the drug companies are killing people. It's a real sham how we're being lead down a garden path of money to believe the only way to health is through some tablets. It's a real nasty way of doing things. The balance of the psyche is so delicate, and if you take anything out of it...it's almost like having a pond and you take the flies away. It has a devastating effect, especially down the road. This is what the medical profession is doing with tablets and things. They're taking things out of the psyche or adding things, and they don't know what they're doing. There's some great help the drug companies are doing with insulin and things like that, but the way they're handing them out now like candy, it's very, very, very damaging."
Dunnery's frustration is apparent in our interview. He knows he can't be taken seriously if he tries to address these types of heavy issues while known as an astrologer, especially one without a proper education.
"People laugh at me when I tell them I'm an astrologer and I don't have a doctorate. I can't blame them, I really understand. It's a natural reaction from anybody who's in the corporate or government world of what's acceptable. You could be the worst psychologist on the planet, but if you've got a doctorate...that's just the way the world is. And it ain't gonna change for me. So, I have a choice, I can either address it and do something about it, or I can sit there and complain like a loser. And I'm not really about that. I owe it to myself to do this."
Of course, Dunnery is still a musician at heart. He's mastering the new album, The Gulley Flats Boys, on the night of our interview. "It's driving me crazy. It's like giving birth, isn't it? It's a very difficult thing to do, and a painting or a song is no different. It's the same creative process that projects our inner ideas into the physical world. And then you look at your work, and you either approve of who you are, or you don't." Dunnery really doesn't care if others approve of him, as he says he has his own approval. "I don't need anyone else's. And I don't mean that in a nasty way. I mean, I hope everybody hails me as a new pope, and puts me on a pedestal and shouts, 'He truly is the Son of God.'" He laughs again. "But I'm quite happy with them not doing that. I know what I've done. I've made a good record. It's fantastic, I swear to God."
He speaks of the CD as being an intimate record of the middle passage, filled with subtleties he hopes the listener can pick up on. It's not about dwelling on the past, but looking back from the perspective of someone over 40. The biggest revelation that comes forth is Dunnery's sense of power, the knowledge that he doesn't have to be on the receiving end of the music industry's political games. He doesn't buy it anymore and has created his own Web site, record company, radio station, and distribution system. "I don't have to kiss people's asses left, right, and center. It's such an undignified thing to do. I would rather sell three copies on my own than sell 100,000 through means like that. I can't do that anymore, and tour dates are no different."
Dunnery mentions the possibility of touring again in September with Sancious and hosting a seminar on relationships somewhere in the area later this year. But for now, his path is about walking the talk on air. "And that's it," he concludes, sending me off to shovel my driveway. "Onward and upward. I'm fat, I've got a bald head, and I'm doing great."