Words & Photos by Doug Dresher

Part 2 of 2

July 28, 2021

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How do I know that Bobby Mahoney (and his stellar band Bobby Mahoney & The Seventh Sonwill be a success?

That’s an excellent question. I preface this missive with this – Being a success as a rock star is a path paved with knowledge that I do not possess.

For the record – I’m not a successful rock star, nor was I on that track beyond my daydreams in high school, college, graduate school, and just about the rest of my life. I’m a 56-year-old photographer who has played the guitar for almost 50 years and has a chronically bad back.

But I know what I like. And I know what I see.

So how do I “know” that Bobby Mahoney will be a success?

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His eyes burn like fire when he performs.

Yes, he is young and has a long hard road to travel, if indeed he does want to be a rock star (I’ve never asked him). But watch him perform. Offstage he is an affable soul with an appreciative tone and a solid handshake. On stage, his eyes burn into the audience. He is molding the stage persona of Bobby Mahoney, who can pull those in the back of the room directly to the center of the performance.

In a town where most every singer with a guitar is trying to be as successful as the patron saint of Asbury Park without sounding too much like, “Him,” it is easy to see where Bobby Mahoney came from. Now we lean forward and try to see where Mahoney is going.

Bobby Mahoney’s songs tell a story because Bobby Mahoney is a storyteller – I suspect much like his own idles. As Mahoney puts a well-read paperback copy Jack Kerouac’s novel in his back pocket and jumps in a pickup to seek out new tales of love lost and love found, it will be interesting to see just how far he can escape the deceptive fame of Asbury Park and introduce himself to the rest of the people he meets On the Road.

Here, have some pictures.

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Born from an existential argument between the modernists and postmodernists, I have found my home with the post-punks and those who love a good slice of pizza. I live in a world of art in the age of mechanical reproduction and the ever-elusive decisive moment. Punctum and Stadium aside, I like to take photographs of people and things to see how they look photographed. While I miss CBGBs, I think Asbury Park is as close as we are ever going to get to making punk whatever we make it to be. The future is unwritten and I owe it all to Mr. Bradley and Mr. Martin. Let us now praise famous men and ask the little prince for his thoughts. Sometimes I'm on the road, but If it wasn’t for the honor of the thing, I’d rather walk. My loving wife supports this albatross of an obsession and my kids put up with me well. BA, MFA, M.Ed., BCEA, Tri-X, and Nikon.

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