Tag: poetry

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I finished reading Patti Smith’s “Bread of Angels” (2025). It is a beautiful, “death-haunted,” memoir. I suppose if you live long enough you too will become “death-haunted.” Death is sort of the mystery that envelops every life. Those of us still living must contend with the reality and finality of death in our own particular ways. Patti reaches out to the mystery & the poetry. It’s admirable, inspiring and deeply sad too. I was happy to read the book, and also happy to finish it. Patti lost some of her most significant lovers, inspirers, and co-conspirators early on. And she lost many more significant & influential folks over the years. She pays tribute to all those who gifted her along the way. An extraordinary life. The r&r shaman & poet. I recently purchased the 50th Anniversary Edition of her debut album “Horses.” (1975). The remaster CD sounds fantastic. One of the greatest debut albums of all time with probably, for me, the greatest opening lines of all time. Certainly lines that made this lasped-Catholic boy sit up and take notice. Yes. Head-opening. A glorious liberation: “Jesus died for somebody’s sins, but not mine…”  The lines that follow are epic too: “… my sins are my own… they belong to me… to me…” Very Jean Paul Satre “existentialist,” don’t you know?! And then throughout her rendition of the classic r&r song, “Gloria,” Patti adopts the persona of a very insistent & aggressive rebellious-tomboy, on the hunt for a pretty young thing, “leaning on the parking meter, humping on the parking meter,” or maybe she’s imagining embodying a creative, rebellious, rambunctious boy, something along the lines of a young, surrealist-cowboy-mouth Dylan or an illminated Arthur Rimbaud? You know, totally, fucking extraordinary, mind-expanding r&r, right up there with Dylan’s great album “Highway 61 Revisited” (1965).- Jammer

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Relevant Question. Was the Chilean novelist & poet, Roberto Bolano, Antifa?! Anti-fascist? No doubt. We throw our lot in with Roberto. Last night we played as a trio in Kathy’s Living, a wonderful home & music room. Intimate, gorgeous, perfectly-appointed, welcoming, inspiring. A gathering of the beautiful people, you know the “beloved community” of souls.

We were so lucky to share the night with Lisa Zane. She is a powerhouse, a creative dynamo. She commands a room with every breath & move. She was backed by a tremendously gifted, mysteriously-un-named guitar player. A beautiful wide-ranging set. Songs from their gorgeous record “Mysteries of Spain,” new songs recently recorded with her “flamenco-punk band” Flapunco, and a couple of cool covers; Joni Mitchell, and yes, The Beatles.

Then we did a reading from Roberto Bolano’s “Amulet” (1999).

From our introduction: “Roberto Bolano often wrote about human beings living under a heavy boot.  Sort of an echo, a foreshadowing of  our new American Dystopia.  He emerged as a writer at a time when people  no longer believed in utopias, when paradise had become a sort of living hell. People disappeared off the streets, mothers and fathers taken away in the dark of night, children left to fend themselves.  Of course, as an antidote and response to the cruelty and horror of the authoritarians, there are always the artists, the poets, the storytellers, the musicians, all of us seeking love, wild abandon, living life to the fullest.  Truth-seekers. Truth tellers. Always searching, & remembering”

Sort of a code for better living. We refuse to knuckle under the new American Fascism. Finally our trio did a set. I fumbled at first, playing in the dim light, I could barely see the fretboard, but by the 2nd song I adjusted and the set flowed. Thought we played with power & enthusiasm. Seems much of the audience was truly with us. Lots of new folks who never saw or heard us before. Hopefully we made some new fans.

Yes. It was good one. Reminded us of the importance of community, love, intelligence, spirit. It was all alive in the room with us. Over-powering. The antidote to stupid shit flowing from this new ugly dystopia in Washington D.C. – Jammer

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“Jesus Died for somebody’s sins, but not mine…”  Visionary poetry married to punky-garage rock. Rock and roll embodied by a flinty, knife-sharp, Black Raven-like girl, declaiming a deeply subversive and ecstatic vision. The collaboration between Patti Smith and Lenny Kaye; the perfect r&r template. The Poet and The Guitar Slinger. All fever-dream, stream-of-consciousness, and spit. Sam Shepard (Tooth of Crime) and Bob Dylan (Blonde on Blonde) in their boots of Spanish leather, and their mirrored shades, looking over Patti’s shoulder with cracked, sideways, grins. Cowboy Mouth! – Jammer