What this music biz needs is an all-knowing God. David Reuter wasn't searching for the Holy Grail, just some gigs, when he moved to Miami in 1978. Born in South Carolina to a military family, he first dabbled in music during high school in Maryland. "Up north it's even more seasonal," he says of employment for players. "It gets cold and everything shuts down. There was work here back then, and in some ways there still is."
Like DeNisco, Reuter often performs in the Keys, where his jazz-drenched original pop can fulfill the tropical expectations of umbrella-drink tourists while also stimulating laid-back locals. ("The tourist crowd asks for certain artists and I say, 'No.' People in the Keys don't want those covers.") So far, the president of Sony hasn't walked into the shade of the thatched-roof patios or ceiling-fanned rooms. "I hesitate talking about the industry overlooking people," Reuter says amiably. "I wouldn't want them to think I have an attitude problem. There's plenty of talent A in this city alone A being overlooked. I see this [his March 1993 album Conversations of the Heart] as my first project, not my last."
Conversations, a charming, acoustic-driven, keys/sax-bolstered cassette, sold a few copies and drew a review in Jam, as well as a radio interview. Reuter expects to have new material out soon. "I felt I was ready to do something more than what I've been doing," he says. "It's always been a dream of mine to be involved in writing and singing. I've learned plenty, including technique, and I like to think the past fifteen years haven't been in vain. I'm a long way from where I want to be, but I'm a lot better than I was."
The album contrasts Reuter's live work, which is mostly solo acoustic or in a sequenced duo with guitarist Willie Vega in which Reuter plays bass and sings. For Conversations, Reuter enlisted a vocalist, two keyboardists, and such stars as Vega, Marc Berner (playing sax, beautifully), percussionist Steve Kornicks, and drummer Jack Kurtz. The results reflect the talent behind these highly accessible and brilliantly played cuts.
Reuter's are untroubling tunes, although "The Worst Thing That Could Happen" offers a bleak perspective on a busted relationship. "Heart Beat," an urgent tension-and-release soca-style song, better displays the upbeat nature of most of Reuter's work. There's joy to be had here, and Reuter is less than worked up about any neglect. "Hey, we all feel like we're beating our heads against the wall," he says with a smile. "I send stuff to friends in Germany, figuring something might happen over there. I play acoustic, in all kinds of venues, and Willie and I average three to five nights a week as a duo, as long as we can work out our schedules."
When he talks about his album, Reuter echoes the sentiments of Tom Manos. "This is it, this is what I'm up to. And having something out always helps, I'm moving up more and more. I use agents, it's a little easier that way and I've been pretty fortunate with that. Since I've been doing it a while, there's word of mouth, and it's usually me being approached [to perform] than me having to approach them."
The musician is not about to wait for the labels to approach him. "I'm just waiting on a reply from ASCAP," he says, "and then I'll be starting my own label, Al-Basir, which is Arabic for 'all-perceiving.' The business has got to have somebody like that."
Alas, it doesn't.
