"And My Heart, Isabella.."

It's not like I usually experience any particular shivers in the early afternoon hours of Good Friday, though in previous years I'd try to participate in the Way of the Cross walk for justice. It's not like I care about Pope Benedict's scandals or the stages of Catholic guilt, particularly being a mediocre Protestant for whom guilt is worth little more than a punchline or two. But the sky clouded over at 1 p.m. April 2, and I could feel every effort at trying to slice through the grief experienced by proxy when I heard about Matthew Perry dealing with his Alzheimer's mother in Michigan. Grief is the dragon that unconditional joy is called upon to slay, and this shit's hard.

This was the kind of week that required One Great Big Conspiracy to be resurrected from the dead, to slay Guardians of the Free Republics while keeping one eye out for the Hutaree cult. This was the kind of week that required a rage against the iPad and all the fetishism it implied. This was the kind of week when I sat quietly listening to Bill Callahan sing mournful songs about "no love without obstacle." Obstacles are speedbumps or brick walls to route around or dragons to slay or the schism that makes the difference, and they are blessed. The straight line is the cheat, the obstacle is the path to love.

So stand by for a few hours of grief, no doubt to be followed by a weekend of sunshine and unconditional joy. Isabella, we are rising.

Unanticipated Renaissance

"I don't know where it came from, it certainly wasn't in the forecast," he told her. "I only feel blessed to be here at this time, in this place."

There were atmospheric disturbances through the summer of 2009, to be sure, little fronts with meta-tags such as Beth Ditto, Lee Upton, Jay Farrar & Ben Gibbard, Florence Welch. But with the jet stream in such a ragged disarray, it was hard to know if these were summer showers or harbingers of things to come.

Somewhere around Thanksgiving, the torrent of prose got serious. Richard Powers' dazzling tribute to ecstatic daily living, Generosity. Jeanette Walls' deliciously tragic Half-Broke Horses. David Byrne's trips with his bicycle. Barbara Kingsolver's best novel yet, The Lacuna. Patti Smith's beautiful memoir of life with Robert Mapplethorpe. Spring book lists show no signs of slackening.

In late January, the musicians joined in. Xiu Xiu's Dear God I Hate Myself. Joanna Newsom's triple-disc, two-hour tribute to Victorian courtesan Lola Montez. Quasi's chaotic American Gong. Shearwater's memorial to the refugees from the Bikini Atoll. Local Natives' high harmonies. Tindersticks' turn to cowboy living. Vampire Weekend's turn to covert-agent living. The triumphant return of Gil Scott-Heron to the spoken word. Vibracathedral Orchestra's massive two-hour raga dances in six parts. Robert Pollard. Magnetic Fields. Laura Veirs. Retribution Gospel Choir. Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra. The last Jack Rose before his untimely death. The farewell kisses from Yellow Swans. And plenty of clouds on the horizon bearing names like Liars and Flobots.

The media hasn't paid much attention to a flowering of unprecedented proportions under the spring rain, maybe because it's difficult to discern any particular theme like punk, grunge, Latin American surrealism, whatever. The one unifying theme I see is the integrity and uncompromising position of the artist. This is not a renaissance designed for the benefit and convenience of consumer or patron. The books are complex packages not well-suited to either ADHD attention spans or electronic e-readers. The musical compositions are often an hour long or better, demanding a return to the old concept-album format, and ruthlessly denying being compressed into digital file formats. Gauntlets have been thrown down, and I will be eagerly awaiting to see if visual arts, film, dance, etc. follow the lead of prose and sound.

We can argue endlessly as to why this happened now - ongoing economic crisis? A move from below against digital homogenization? Not important. What is important is that you are present at the creation, watching one hundred flowers bloom at this moment, in this place.

One Fast Move Or I'm Gone: Kerouac's Big Sur

I cannot recommend the film "One Fast Move Or I'm Gone: Kerouac's Big Sur" (Dar Williams, Patti Smith, Lenny Kaye, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Michael McClure, Carolyn Cassady, Sam Shepard, Tom Waits, Robert Hunter) enough, nor can I recommend the soundtrack by Jay Farrar and Ben Gibbard enough. There is nothing more to say, except direct you here.

Patti Smith, Kevin Shields, Robert Mapplethorpe

Patti Smith and Kevin Shields (My Bloody Valentine) have just released a two-disc set of readings from Patti's 1996 poetry book, The Coral Sea, dedicated to Robert Mapplethorpe. The audio CD version of The Coral Sea is released on Patti's own label, not Columbia, so it's a bit hard to find. She does not read the book in two parts across the two discs; instead, these are two distinctly different readings from 2005 and 2006, both at Queen Elizabeth Hall in London. The 2005 performance is crisp and minimalist, with each syllable emphasized and Kevin's backing more ambient, while the 2006 performance has louder, swirling performances from Kevin, while Patti sounds lush, almost slurring.
Patti's liner notes speak for themselves:

"My great friend, the artist Robert Mapplethorpe, died of complications from AIDS on March 9, 1989. His mortal suffering was so profound that I wept through much of the illness. After his death I wanted to give him something other than tears, so I wrote The Coral Sea.

I had tried to read it publicly, but could never sustain reading the entire piece. Performing with Kevin Shields gave me an all-encompassing landscape in which I could explore the emotions that drove me to write it. It was a privilege working with Kevin, a gifted, humble, and extremely confident musician. I believe we produced together a fitting memorial to Robert, who was, when I was young, my bloody valentine."

A Different Kind of Cowsills Nostalgia

Unlike some critics, I thought Patti Smith's "12" was a fine effort at nostalgic covers, particularly if you threw in the "Two More" single on top of the CD. Nevertheless, Susan Cowsill might just have outdone the mighty Patti. She and her band have compiled songs from the "Covered in Vinyl" evenings at Carrollton Station in New Orleans to come up with a CD of covers by U2, Hendrix, Pretenders, Joni Mitchell and the like. It's four-track muddy live recordings, but the enthusiasm and the quality of Susan's voice make it a bigger keeper than "12". Go buy it at Susan's site.