One in An Occasional Series on Most Influential Artists in Rock and Roll

Patti Smith, not be confused with another influential artist named Patty Smyth, is considered the "poet laureate of the punk movement." Her 1975 album, "Horses," was the junction pool of many tributaries of art, music and philosophy. The first song on the album, "Gloria," began with "Jesus died for someone's sins, but not mine."

She is another one of those great minds who never achieved commercial success, but whose disciples and acolytes, bands like R.E.M., MC5, Nirvana, sold millions of records. Her life was also her art, having had a long-time romance with the otherwise gay-as-a-goose Robert Mapplethorpe, marrying another musician with the same last name, dropping out of the scene to be a suburban housewife and raise her kids in a Detroit suburb, then being lured back on the road by R.E.M. and Bob Dylan, another fan, where she remains to this day.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patti_Smith

Science, Arrogance and Ignorance

Jacob Bronowski's Ascent of Man ran on PBS back in the late 1970s. Rarely has the need for science to overcome our hatred and ignorance been better articulated.

This segment, filmed outside Auschwitz, is as moving a documentary as I have witnessed. Absolute power and absolute ignorance go hand in hand. Science is a human form, a constant questioning and reassessment, the place where assumptions are tested and doubts born. It is what will move us from the muck to the stars.

When you think of the arrogance of anyone's absolute certainty, especially those right-wing religionists whose fundamentalist point of view has infiltrated the highest levels of our government, remember that Oliver Cromwell quote: "I beseech you in the bowels of Jesus. Think it possible, you may be mistaken."

Making Fun of Your Fears

Spiders freak me out. It is not only the wired evolutionary response to a real threat - spiders can kill. I suffer from a severe case of spider-related trauma. When I was about 8, I was tromping through a field of goldenrods taller than me when I stumbled into a clearing with a tight lattice work of spider webs. As I was flailing about, trying to get the webbing off me, I saw at least a dozen of the huge death-mask meadow spiders scurrying right at me. I got bit at least half a dozen times, raising enormous welts and causing blisters on my ears and hands. The black and yellow argiope is a generally harmless spider, so the main damage was to my fragile ego.



The sight of a spider to this day gives me the willies. But I have learned to live and let live, knowing what a valuable role the arachnids play in insect control.

So my strategy is to laugh at the creepy little predators. Mockery is the sincerest form of disrespect.

Tennis Anyone? The 107th Ojai Tennis Tourney

As published in the Spring issue of the Ojai Visitors Guide, by Lisa Snider:

The 107th Annual Ojai Valley Tennis Tournament, or “The Ojai®” to the more savvy, is the most anticipated event of the season; springtime in Ojai just wouldn’t be the same without it. The smell of sweat and sunscreen commingled with grilled tri-tip and orange blossoms create an air of unmistakable Ojai. Presented April 26-29 by the non-profit Ojai Valley Tennis Club, it’s Ojai’s oldest event and one that carries with it an esteemed reputation rich in history and tradition.

“We have 1500 competitors, we use over 100 courts, we have 500 people working all the various phases of the tournament, but we own no tennis courts and have no paid employees,” said Sam Eaton, public relations chair for The Ojai®.

Home of the annual Pac-10 men's, women's, and doubles individual championship matches, The Ojai® brings tourists and tennis fans to our small town for 4 days of intense competition. Libbey Park, in the heart of Ojai, is the venue for the finals of all divisions, including Div. III West Regionals, Community and Independent Colleges, Junior and CIF events, and the Open.

After 107 years, I couldn’t help but ask if anything new is in the works, any plans to mix it up a bit this year? “Nothing new, just the same wonderful stuff that has kept us going for 107 years. Perhaps that's the beauty of the whole thing,” said Eaton.

I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know much about the game. I tried, though, having spent two summers during my pre-teen years at tennis camp. I forgot my racquet one year; my mom had to turn around and drive 50 miles back home to get it for me. I never excelled beyond beginner level, nor did I figure out the scoring (love?). I did, however, become quite adept at flinging the racquet out of my hand, tagging my tennis instructor once or twice. Childhood traumas aside, I wouldn’t miss a courtside seat at The Ojai®.

I think as far as collegiate sports go, The Ojai® is to tennis what March Madness is to basketball. The brackets, displayed on several boards at Libbey Park, are dizzying and require careful study, but I can always turn to local legend, Stacy Margolin Potter, who sorts it all out for me. She played on the Professional Women’s Tennis Tour from 1977-1987 and reached a World Ranking of #18. She hails from USC, where she won both the National Collegiate Singles and Team Titles. Her association with The Ojai continues today and you can always find her courtside cheering on her alma mater.

One of the biggest attractions of The Ojai® is the tea tent, where every afternoon tea and cookies are offered complimentary. It’s all very sophisticated and one year I made the shocking faux pas of ordering a Venti Decaf Chai Latte, quickly discovering that the menu here is simple and dignified with a choice of black tea with a lemon wheel or cubed sugar.

Last year’s Tea Tent Vice Chair Peggy Chase, who, in a lovely wide brimmed garden chapeau, shared the magic and mystique of the tea tent with me. There are 1500 real china cups and saucers with The Ojai® logo and perfectly polished silver tea pots. She later wrote me and shared, “As a young girl, I was enchanted by the two glistening silver tea services and the ‘dressed up ladies’ who so elegantly poured the tea and passed cookies to players and spectators. The players, some just off the courts, would stand a bit straighter, speak a bit more softly, and might even crook a little finger as they sipped from china cups.”

Last year at The Ojai®, I landed the big get. Not even the most seasoned sports reporter could get close to this one. I had a sit-down with one of the unsung heroes of tennis: the ball boy. You know him, he’s the one crouched down under the net, waiting patiently to retrieve loose balls and holding sweaty towels for the players. After a match that went to all 3 sets, I got a face-to face with local Sean O’Brien, and he looked tired. He chased down errant balls and got tagged by 100-mile-an-hour serves. Between sets, he juggled tennis balls. And got an admonishment from the judge. Why?

“I bounced the ball,” he confessed. I guess it’s hard to maintain focus after hours in the hot sun.

And then I asked the question of the hour; how does one get chosen to serve with the ball boy elite? “I got assigned,” replied the eye-rolling teen. It seems that his holding court on the local Thacher tennis team brings an automatic appointment to the task. I’m told we might see him again this year, so make sure you give him a shout out!

For more information about The Ojai®, call (805) 646-7241 or visit www.ojaitourney.org. See you on the courts!

Dancing About Architecture

On Monday, Jonathan Gold became the first food critic to win a Pulitzer Prize, but fellow LA Timesman Mark Swed, the venerable music critic, was one of the three finalists.

Swed is a huge fan of the Ojai Music Festival, as well he should be. He writes adoring reviews of the performances, while also making witty observations about the quirky community of Ojai. Congratulations on coming so close, and here's hoping next year is your year.

As a big fan of music, I am also a big fan of those who write about music, and who do it well. To say that it can't be done is a lazy cop-out that I do not accept. Here's one of my favorite bloggers, Neddie Jingo, dealing with that very subject:

"I loathe the often-cited maxim "Writing about music is like dancing about architecture." It is absolute f---ing balderdash -- and a cowardly surrender. With the proper vocabulary, a great deal of careful thought, and a refusal to resort to distracting metaphor, music can be described and criticized accurately and well.

"I think there is such a thing as good music and bad music, and that these values exist outside my subjectivity. I believe that the more you know about the technical aspects of music, the more likely you are to possess the language to express criticism -- that is, describe exactly why a piece of music is good or bad. Quite a few -- indeed, probably all -- "my-band-rocks-your-band-sucks" arguments arise from pure inarticulacy and nothing more."

Here are some festival favorites, including Pierre-Laurent Aimard, this year's music director for the Ojai Music Festival, and Pierre Boulez, the great maestro himself, performing a piece by Olivier Messiaen, one of the world's greatest avant-garde composers:

DIY Ethos

As in Do It Yourself. The record industry, as I have noted, is going through an epochal change. In fact, one might argue that it is on the verge of extinction. What will replace it is far from certain. But if you surf the zeitgeist, you can see a few clues emerging. One is the do-it-yourself recording, which is then posted on myspace and promoted vigorously through friends lists and so forth, culminating in live shows at rented halls from which buzz builds.

One of the best recent examples of said phenomenon is the Brooklyn indie rockers, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. Their 2005 self-titled debut album began on a myspace posting, was eventually given a great review by Pitchfork (my favorite music blog) and flogged out of the back of their tour van. They eventually sold 500,000 copies, an enormous number even for established artists on big labels.

Check out one of their hits, "By the Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth:"

All My Favorite Kurts are Gone

First Kurt Cobain, age 27, suicide victim. He was too profound for the pettiness and coarse hustle of this world.

Now Kurt Vonnegut, who died today of a broken heart, age 84. It took him a lot longer than it did Cobain, but they ended up in the same place, away from the harm and hurt that they so eloquently tried to explain and contain, taking our pain and giving us back the fleeting but real pleasures of art. We did not deserve their great artistry, but they gave it to us nonetheless. They were entirely different people with entirely different approaches. But both left behind a rich legacy of deep empathy and concern. We are the better for having known them.

Here's a tribute video rap to Vonnegut:

Next Best Happy Song of All Time

A great happy song is a rare prize. Frankly, it's easier to write lyrics with angst and ennui and discontent because that is the natural process of creativity, to take that which is ugly and make something beautiful out of it. My first pick for Best Happy Song of All Time is, of course, Brian Wilson's "Good Vibrations."

Isaac Brock of Modest Mouse is not a likely candidate to write happy songs. A hard-drinking melancholic with a bad temper, Brock has been churning out the minor-key masterpieces for more than a decade now. He and his band just added quintessential English art guitarist Johnny Marr of Smiths fame to the lineup and are now touring behind their new album "We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank."

This 2004 work from "Good News for People Who Love Bad News," was the first hit single from that epochal album. Even with the great lyrics, something about this song "Float On" speaks profoundly about the transitory nature of the human condition. Even, or especially, those moments of unexpected joy float on past us faster than we can apprehend them.

Stupid Pet Tricks

This is Sydney, my genius Labrador. She can pre-wash dishes better than my husband. She also picks up his socks for him. She sleeps and eats on command, which makes her way smarter than my nephews, who usually refuse to do either. What can your dog do?

La Buona Tavola/The Art Of Cooking

Roast lamb with herbs/Arrosto d’agnello con erbe a aglio.

This dish originates from southern Italy, where lamb is roasted with garlic and wild herbs. It is also a traditional Easter dish.

Ingredients/Ingredienti:
3 Lb. Leg of lamb
3-4 tbsp olive oil
4 cloves garlic, peeled and cut in half
2 springs fresh sage,
2 springs fresh rosemary
2 bay leaves
2 springs fresh thyme,
salt & fresh ground black pepper
1 cup dry white wine
Serves 4 to 6 people

Method/Esequzione:

Cut any excess fat from the lamb. Rub with olive oil. Using a sharp knife, make small cuts under the skin all around the meat. Insert the garlic pieces in some of the cuts, and a few of the fresh herbs in the others. (If using dried herbs, sprinkle them over the surface of the meat.) Place the remaining fresh herbs on the lamb, and allow it to stand in a cool place for at least 2 hours before cooking. Preheat the oven to 375 F.
Place the lamb in a backing pan, surrounded by the herbs. Pour on 3 tbsp. of the oil . Season. Place in the oven and roast for 35 minutes, basting occasionally. Pour the wine over the lamb. Roast for 15 minutes more, or until the meat is cooked. Removed the lamb to a heated serving dish. Tilt the pan, spooning off any fat on the surface. Strain the pan juices into a gravy boat. Slice the meat, and serve with the sauce passed separately.

Buon appetito e Buona Pasqua.

Folk Revivalists

During the past three years, one band I keep returning to is The Decembrists. These Portland indie rockers, led by singer Colin Meloy and the eponymous guitar hero Chris Funk, have only been recording since 2001. Their fourth album, The Crane Wife, was released amid much pomp and circumstance late in 2006.

Stephen Colbert described them as "hyper-literate prog-rock." That about says it. Where so many bands today go in for the navel-gazing weepies, The Decembrists, named after the 1825 Russian uprising, take a story-telling approach to songwriting. The Crane Wife, for instance, refers to the Japanese legend of the rescued woman who turns into a crane at night. The Tain refers to the Tain of Cuthulain, the 4th B.C. Irish epic.

The Decembrists remind me of British avant garde composer Percy Grainger's approach. The avant garde composer spent years in the early years of the 20th century rescuing old ballads and shanties from extinction. He would track down aging singers at rest homes and get them to sing their old songs into a needle-down gramophone, then translate the works for his peculiar and particular audience. The Decembrists are engaged upon a very similar mission, to take yesterday's folk art and translate it for today's audience. I wish them well.

Ojai Real Estate sales March update

There are 216 homes on the market in the Ojai Valley. Only 17 mobile homes are available, 15 are located in the adult parks, only 2 are located in the family parks.

In the month of March, 32 homes were sold and 22 are in escrow.

The most affordable was sold at $375,000. 3 bed, 1 bath, 906 sqft. Lot size 6000 sqft. Days on the market, 71.

The most expensive home was sold at $2,000,000. 4 bed, 4.50 bath. 3461 sqft. Lot size, 94089sqft. Days on the market, 245.

Overall average days on the market for the month of March, was 132, median price, $692,000

Roots of Rap

My first six months I lived in England was in a military barracks, a drafty World War II relic. The thin walls did nothing to the stop the constant DJ action going on next door, where my friend DeWayne Calhoun was spinning vinyl in every spare moment on his twin turntables - the first person I ever heard scratching.

At first I hated the thumping syncopation and the pulse-pounding from the 12-inch woofers, but, well, I adapted. Now I realize that I had a historic opportunity to listen as rap and hip-hop broke out into the mainstream. This was early in the 1980s. DeWayne spun some of the earliest recordings of mostly New York based ensembles like Afrikaa Bambaata and Grandmaster Flash. DeWayne bought these records in Los Angeles, at booths at swap meets. These MCs, in turn, started out as block party DJs in Brooklyn and Hollis, Queens. A very roundabout way to the military barracks, but the journey didn't stop there. DeWayne, and other GIs, were instrumental in importing the MC/DJ ethos into the vibrant Brit club scene, which we are now witnessing returning to us through Lady Sovereign and Mike Skinner, aka The Streets.

On one early occasion, before I realized that DeWayne was a talented guy with a golden ear, I politely asked him to quit with the rapping, "Too Much, Too Many People" carved a deep groove into my brain that has yet to be filled in. He, polite in turn, but with great enthusiasm, said he had something I would be guaranteed to like. How he knew that when he barely knew me puzzles me to this day, but he was spot-on right.

That was my introduction to Gil Scott Heron, this spoken-word poet, proto-rapper and jazz-singing maestro, most famous for his prophetic song, "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised." Gil Scott Heron, sounding like the street-corner prophet that he is, grabbed me by the lapels and hasn't let go since. He is the conscience of a troubled nation.

Death to Record Companies!

About time, I say.

The arrogant gatekeepers are falling by the wayside (and please, no need to remind me that I am, myself, an arrogant gatekeeper, but the newspaper business has proven quite adaptable in the past, and all signs point to a similar restructuring, already well underway at the OVN), and new business models are blooming all over the place as quickly as sales of recording dwindle.

The latest death knell was sounded a couple of weeks ago when Capitol Records canned its top echelon of Brit thugs they had imported with great fanfare a mere year ago - the cavalry across the pond riding to the rescue. The fact is that the kids of today aren't going to pay $20 for a CD, and all the recording industry lawsuits against college students for Limewire downloads merely delay the inevitable.

But the great thing for those who love great music is that anyone with Garage Band on their Mac and a myspace page can become a recording artist and find an audience. The success of Brooklyn alt rockers Clap Your Hands Say Yeah is a case in point - they sold 500,000 records without a recording contract. The gates have been lifted, and the peasants are pouring in!

Here's a link to an excellent article from Michael Wolff breaking it down - the hows and whys of this freefall. It's almost five years old, but the insight to the mechanics of the music business are quite telling.

http://nymag.com/nymetro/news/media/columns/medialife/6099/

What I enjoy most about this time and place is few people under the age of 30 would ever think of going to Sam Goody and paying $20 for a recording when they can get it for free, but would think nothing of shelling out $50 or more to see their favorite bands in concert, where the artists can actually get some cut of the action. More and more musicians are now able to give up their day jobs to hit the road and cash in on their talents, where before they waited around to hit the recording-contract lottery, which were often just elaborate bait-and-switches designed to keep them indentured for life.

If the recording companies had their way, we would not get to hear acts like Damien Jurado or Eef Barzelay (gotta love that name) with Clem Snide outside of the college circuit and folk house open mic nights. Here's Jurado's sweet, poignant "Lion Tamer."