Don't call him 'Piano Man' – Plymouth pianist plays in public

PLYMOUTH — As a pianist, David Lockwood was always jealous of guitarists, who could carry their instrument anywhere and give impromptu performances in unexpected places. So, three years ago, as a kind of retirement gift to himself, he built a piano that he could surprise people with.

Actually, he already had the piano, a circa 1940s Aeolian Wheelock baby grand that he had bought and restored during his 20s. It was the first piano that Lockwood bought, and therefore it had a special place in his collection. And now it has an interesting life, as the sole instrument for Lockwood's alter ego, “Little Davey and the Rolling 88s.”

Lockwood, 67, a graduate of the Berklee College of Music and music director for Holderness School for 35 years, has rigged up a trailer to securely hold his Wheelock, which he can take anywhere he can drive his truck.

When the weather is nice, Lockwood will likely take his rolling keys out for a ride and find a place to play. He often plays in the parking lot of the Hannaford supermarket in Plymouth, and he has also set up at the post office in Plymouth, at a scenic vista in the White Mountains, at farm stands, and on a barge floating on Little Squam Lake. He plays at trailheads, greeting hikers coming down off a mountain. And sometimes he just finds a nice, quiet place where he plays just for the trees and a grazing cow.

Last week, he took the Wheelock for its greatest adventure yet when he traveled to Nantucket for his son’s wedding. And, yes, he took advantage of the opportunity to sit at the piano and play as it was being unloaded from the ferry, offering a moment of unexpected joy to other travelers.

Playing a piano strapped to a trailer – and in a place where people don’t expect to find him – is a radically different experience for Lockwood.

“It was in the back of my mind for a few years as something I thought would be interesting,” Lockwood explained. He has plenty of opportunities to perform. He plays jazz in clubs around the region, sometimes solo, sometimes as part of a duo or trio. But that’s a particular kind of music experience, both for the performer and the audience. People who come to a jazz club have an expectation; he wanted something more organic and improvised.

“I originally thought I was going to be busking,” he said, referring to the tradition of street musicians who perform in the hopes that passersby will drop a dollar or a few coins into a had. “I did a couple of times and I didn’t like it. It sets up a relationship with people that I didn’t like.”

“Little Davey” asks nothing of his audiences. He doesn’t ask them to contribute money, or to buy the latest David Lockwood album (“Modern Love,” inspired by the New York Times column of the same name), and, though he has picked up several paid gigs through his public performances, he doesn’t use it as marketing for his hired services.

Because there are no expectations, Lockwood can play what he pleases, for as long as he likes.

“It’s not an obligation, it’s not a gig. I might play for five minutes or for a half-hour.” And he will consider requests – just don’t ask him to play “Piano Man,” by Billy Joel. “I hate that song,” he said.

A few times, he has played for a specific audience, backing his trailer into a friend’s driveway and giving them a concert to help them through a difficult time.

After a few years of trailered touring, the old Wheelock is starting to bear some battle scars. But it’s all aesthetic damage so far. Lockwood said the instrument stays in tune surprisingly well throughout the summer, he usually only has to tune it about once a month. When the humidity increases, it tends to go a little sharp, he said. “The vibration of the road doesn’t bother it at all.”

Catching a live performance of “Little Davey” is usually only available by a stroke of luck, but there’s one exception. He closes out the season with a public concert in his own driveway, at 45 Oak Ridge Road in Plymouth, beginning at 5 p.m. on Sunday, Oct. 7.

Unlike his other performances, Lockwood does have an ulterior motive for his season-ending show, which will become apparent for audience members who are still around when the music ends.

“It’s a bait and switch. I do the concert to get people to help put the piano in the garage,” he confessed.

The piano “takes a beating” from the road life, but Lockwood considers the cost well worth it, especially since the impromptu performance someone sees might be the first time in a while that they had experienced non-recorded music.

“It’s something I believe in. There’s no substitute for live music,” he said.