Seeing Patti Smith and her band on Wednesday night marked the second time I saw them play. My first time was at the Hollywood Athletic Club in Los Angeles three years ago when she was promoting the "Peace and Noise" album. Impressions
of Patti SmithBy Gary C.W. Chun
gchun@starbulletin.comAs I watched her and the band up close at the edge of the stage, I noticed how Smith's seasoned band instinctively knew how she was pacing her own performance, ready to deliver appropriate backup if she went into one of her inspired poetic trances. Lenny Kaye, her guitarist since the very beginning, stood to her left and spent most of the night carefully observing Smith while strumming his Stratocaster.
Kaye and the rest of the band -- the bearded and relatively young Oliver Ray (who's also Smith's boyfriend), bassist Tony Shanahan and powerhouse drummer Jay Dee Daugherty -- meshed well.
I didn't have the pleasure of seeing Smith in her prime, but more than any other rock performer I've seen, she needs to feed off the energy of her audiences to get her motor going. The concert started quietly enough, as Smith gauged her audience. Sure, there were pre-planned moments during the concert: Her tour and stage manager helpfully brought out a chair onstage before she sat down to slip out of her boots during "Dancing Barefoot," and she was given a guitar to bang on during a hard-charging encore of "Rock and Roll Nigger/Gloria." But there were times she was humorously off the cuff, smiling warmly, wanting to make it all work out.
And overall it did. Under her standard black jacket was a tie-dyed shirt that she wore in honor of the late Jerry Garcia's birthday, which coincidentally fell on the day of the concert. She sent out her happy-birthday wish to him by singing "Grateful," a song off of her "Gung Ho" album that was written after his death.
She also did a fine and easy version of "Frederick," another song for a beloved man since passed on, her late husband, Fred "Sonic" Smith. While that Hollywood concert that I saw three years ago still seemed to find her in a bit of mourning stage -- she used a resonating Tibetan prayer bowl to accompany her singing "About a Boy," which was about Kurt Cobain's passing -- this was more a celebratory performance. She read a bit of her poetry, she occasionally played a bit of clarinet in that inspired amateurish way of hers, she shimmied, she shook and generally exhorted the audience to join her in her journey through life.
It was only appropriate that she ended her set with a fiery variation of the Buddy Holly-through-the Rolling Stones standard "Not Fade Away." With Patti Smith, it was not so much as a threat but a screaming declaration of rock 'n' roll freedom.
Smith clearly believes in both the raging glory of three-chord rock and redemptive power of words. It's a balancing act; anima and animus, brain and crotch, parents and peer group, and handling both well -- and equally -- is what defines you as a human being. Sensitivity amid
the raging gloryBy Burl Burlingame
bburlingame@starbulletin.comDespite the volume and noise of the music, what came across was Smith's sensitive regard for her fellow human beings, her intellectual curiosity, her fire that's still burning bright after all these decades.
I also liked the way she tottered myopically on the edge of the stage between songs, grinning and waving to fans like she was the Queen Mum. Rock 'n' royalty, we saw it. You couldn't take your eyes off her.
My teenage daughter observed that Smith does more with less obvious effort than any musical artist she's ever seen.
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