Dave Lear is from Springfield, PA, a suburb of Philadelphia, and his early childhood coincided with the heyday of pro sports in Philly — the 1980 Phils, the Dick Vermeil Eagles, Dr. J. and Moses Malone (not to mention Chocolate Thunder and World B. Free), Bobby Clarke and the Broad Street Bullies. If you listen closely, you can hear the influence of all of these teams on his music, as well as the valuable contributions of Billy Paul, Teddy Pendergrass, Hall and Oates, Schooly D, and, of course, Rocky. Dave's dad was a straight-up doo-wopper, and his mom could harmonize the shit out of anything, and by the time Dave was like 15 he was pretty much ready to audition for Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes. Teddy was paralyzed, and the band's best days were long in the past, but still, if Harold called, Dave was on it.

In the mid-90's, Dave moved to Brooklyn and became the front man of The Stalkers, legends in their own minds, a no-wave punk band basically about five years too early on the whole Strokes scene. A critic once wrote of The Stalkers — "it's like what punk rock might have sounded like if Aerosmith had invented it," which may or may not have been a compliment. He also wrote of Dave, "he's like a cross between Bo Diddley and Hitler — he'll do the duckwalk for you, but don't cross him." Onstage Dave sang and Nick Daggered around playing harmonica or brandishing a portable car battery. At CB's he called himself Dave Baudelaire as beer bottles whizzed past his head. Those were the days.

Dave's next band was The Humbuckers, an alt-country act that was right on time for the No Depression zeitgeist. The Humbuckers recorded a self-titled album with producer George Dugan and had a lot of buzz around the city before disbanding due to general disband-ifcation — disappearing bass players, overly ambitious drummers, hash oil, a distinct lack of single groupies. As Dave's friend Steve put it, "you guys would be perfect for one of those "VH1 The Rise and Fall of" shows. Only, you know, without the rise." In the midst of the carnage, however, a few of Dave's Humbuckers songs got attention down in Nashville, and indirectly led to Dave's songwriting career, which is now thriving.

The Humbuckers broke up in '99, and it took Dave until 2004 to get off his ass and start thinking about making music again, a process kick-started by George calling him in the dead of winter to tell him, apropos of nothing, that The Humbuckers album was getting radio play in the Midwest (to which Dave responded, "uh, how'd you get this number?). In February '04, for the first of what would come to number approximately a million times, Dave took the long drive up the FDR to George's studio in Washington Heights and, with a bit of a chest cold, recorded some very hoarse acoustic demos. The seeds of Mr. Sunshine were planted. By the summertime, George and Dave were knee-deep in the shit, agreeing on very little besides George's talent as an air-bassist, forging again their close-knit relationship based almost entirely on an appreciation of Curtis Mayfield and the Philadelphia Eagles.

Now, with Mr. Sunshine in hand, Dave is making his move, ensconcing himself once more in the warm, fuzzy, optimistic breast of the New York music scene, ever welcoming to procrastinators of all races. The band is rehearsing, the plot is thickening, the phone's been ringing. Check out the news/gigs section for what's up with the Dave right now.