Rick Berlin
June 30th, 2019 | Published in Artists
“Rick Berlin is a giant on the Boston music scene. His colorful songwriting and strong stage presence have influenced countless other artists since the early 1970s, when his innovative band Orchestra Luna harnessed a potent blend of theater and music years before the Tubes. Throughout the decades and the shifting fortunes of the business Rick has continued to make music with intelligence and integrity, building an international reputation around his knotty, singular piano playing, straight-from-the-heart singing and a style of character-based songwriting that’s drawn favorable comparisons to the likes of Tom Waits and Leonard Cohen— although Rick rocks more than both. . . . Rick’s still busy creating. . . . Rick with The Nickel & Dime Band’s Always on Insane (2012) When We Were Kids (2014) is with a full, intense, rocking 8-piece band.”—Ted Drozkowski in The Boston Phoenix
About The Paragraphs:
As requested by my Episcopal Academy classmates about my ‘world’ for a 1963 Class reunion:
From Rick Berlin “As requested by my Episcopal Academy classmates about my ‘world’ for a 1963 Class reunion”:
There’s been too many bands to count, but I’d say my favorite of all is The Nickel & Dime Band. There’s 8 of us, and among them is my nephew, Sam (trombone) which is remarkable since his mom, my sister Lisa was in my very first band, Orchestra Luna.
I also started and stopped an unfinished documentary about Jamaica Plain (where I’ve lived on an off for the last 30 years). Shot and I edited over 60 interviews with people of all ages and stripes in this most diverse and progressive neighborhood.” Many of these, as well as countless music videos, can be seen on YouTube.
Lastly I’d mention that I’m among a group of us here in the hood that have started and continue to present annually which features 20+ bands and performers, all of whom must include artists who live and/or work here in JP.”
Mostly who I am is in the songs I’ve written. And those essentially derive from my feelings and observations about those I care about. Boys, family, encounters, etc. I think I’ve become, to a certain extent, unaware of me—the résumé of where I’ve been and what I’ve done. But I never forget whom I’ve loved. Their face. The sound of their voice. How they’d argue. The fault lines where we were unable to connect.
Afraid of death?