Noel David – Hey Dr. Freud: Dream Logic with a Latin Groove

Freud, Harpsichords, and Purple Trains

There’s something uncomfortably human about dreams. That weird, disjointed cinema of the subconscious where you’re chasing purple trains or being flipped off by Al Gore. Most of us wake up, shake it off, and go make coffee. But Noel David? He turns it into music.

Hey Dr. Freud is the closer to Leon’s Imagination, an album named after his own mirror-self. Leon being Noel spelled backwards. It’s not some clever setup. It’s just how his brain works, and frankly, I get it. After all, isn’t the tail end of an album where you hide the good stuff? Noel gets that too. That’s why he packed the finale with harpsichord breaks, Latin pulses, and a chorus that asks Sigmund Freud point-blank whether he’s losing his marbles.

And here’s the thing – it’s funny! Not forced stand-up funny, but that rare, dry, smart kind. The kind that comes from someone who’s worked a corporate job too long, played cover tunes in smoky bars, and finally said screw it, let’s do something strange and real.

From Management Chains to Musical Detours

Noel David Muyskens found his way the way real people do – through time, work, and a bit of mess. Call him a singer-songwriter if you want, but this story started way before any studio mic got turned on. Born in New Jersey in 1957, he grew up with a Presbyterian minister for a father and a piano-playing mother who, like most piano-playing mothers, hoped the kid might stick with it. Nine years of classical training gave way to self-teaching, rebellion, and eventually, Stairway to Heaven on the keys. A lightbulb moment. Music became less about Mozart and more about figuring out what the hell Zeppelin was doing – and then doing it himself.

By the ’80s, he had formed a folk duo, landed gigs in NYC’s legendary Folk City, then reality knocked. Zander went to grad school. Noel went to work in a drug store. And that’s where a lot of people would’ve stopped. But not Noel. He collects experiences the way some people collect vinyl. Carefully, with memory tied to every scratch and scar.

Somewhere in that long arc – corporate climbs, cover gigs with the Jim Marrone Trio, and a brief detour into nonprofit life – Noel David kept writing. Quietly. Without chasing relevance. Just song after song, stashed away until retirement and a pandemic gave him time and space to bring them to life.

Hey Dr. Freud: The Weird Anthem We Deserve

Now let’s circle back to Hey Dr. Freud. This track feels like what happens when you hand a diary to a jazz band and tell them to let loose. George Dussault (Grammy-nominated, no less) worked his magic on guitars, bass, drums – even tossed in some harpsichord for good measure. The result? A song that somehow sits on the edge of satire and sincerity, with a rhythm section that grooves harder than your therapist’s waiting room playlist ever should. Ha!

The lyrics? Madcap, surreal, layered with literary nods and pop culture jabs. We’re talking glowing fish, backseat driving, and that iconic Uncle Sam pointing his eternal finger. The id is blamed, the ego trembles, and the whole thing collapses into a final chorus that’s equal parts lucid dream and jazz cabaret.

And maybe it’s just me, but I admire that Noel David didn’t feel the need to stick to one box. Because there’s no checklist here. No chasing streams. Just a guy in Rhode Island, two cats, a good producer, and a record full of stories. Hey Dr. Freud just happens to be the one that bites last and leaves a tooth mark.

Other tracks on Leon’s Imagination carry their own weight. Old Friend reminisces about musical youth, This Perfect Day is a beachy ode to sunlight, and Will You Recognize Her dances through love, luck, and a Hemingway quote – all while still sounding like they belong in the same universe. But Freud’s the exclamation mark.

Hit Play First, Ask Questions Later

Leon’s Imagination stands apart – it plays by its own rules, spinning stories from lived-in places and piano keys that remember. Hey Dr. Freud puts the stamp on it – with humor, a tight groove, and just enough raw truth to sting a little.

Follow the trail – Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, Spotify – and if you end up dreaming about harpsichords or Al Gore, well… welcome to the club.