Jane's Addiction at 91X Fest

There are many musical acts in the world, sure, but how many of them put on a live show that makes people cry? Yep, a guy next to me in the pit last night at the 91X Fest in Chula Vista (down by San Diego) for Jane's Addiction had real tears in his eyes, and kept saying, "I'm a 37 year old man and I'm crying at a concert! I can't help it, Jane's has always been my favorite band and this is the first time I'm seeing them live!" And kept saying it. But you see, I do understand. I'll never forget my first time seeing Jane's. It was the first Lalapalooza, and I drank a lot to celebrate - much like this fellow last night. Too much it turned out ... but I somehow physically cured myself mentally because there was no way I was going to miss Jane's. That was a long time ago, and yet a Jane's live show just keeps getting better.

This was the last show of this leg of "The Great Escape Artist" tour for Juana's Addicion (we were very close to the Mexican border) and as it was a radio festival show, it had to be condensed down a bit for time, but the production was huge and epic and the crowd - where it appeared that many were seeing Jane's for the first time - was going OFF the entire set. As we drove down from Venice for the day and didn't start out in a hurry (and stopped off for Juanita's Carnitas in Encinitas!) I didn't see any of the other bands of the day, except for a couple of lackluster Garbage tunes. This was by design. We were there to see Jane's.

So were most of the people present, judging from the roars of excitement that went up from the pit to the highest part of the back when Perry and the boys strolled out to some Pink Floyd. The screams turned otherworldly when the band kicked it off with "Underground" from their new and awesome and you should get it right now if you don't already have it album, The Great Escape Artist. Yeah, I love it. So did everyone else there, especially when Etty Farrell and Stephanie Spanski, the Jane's dancers, were raised up on trapezes in giant white hoop skirts that trailed beneath them as they swung back and forth above the stage, and their male dancer, Bubba Carr, chased after them in a furry black monster costume. It all had the perfect underground feel, dark and ominous, but beautiful at the same time.

I was jumping around so much in there with the rest of the hyper-stoked people when the familiar opening to "Mountain Song" began, I can't read one word of my notes, but trust me that the kids in that place, young and old,  were screaming loving it. Movie screens played scenes of waves and people and other things but all eyes were on the band. Perry is one of music's all time best front men, and that has to be experienced live. His voice is so unique and inimitable, recorded or live, but to see him go off every second and never let up, and see how much he still clearly enjoys it, is what going to shows is all about. Dave Navarro's guitar shreds are dope on every track ever, but to see him rip them up all nonchalantly in person is straight rock and roll. Same for Stephen Perkins' drum beats tribally cutting through it all, and Chris Chaney holding it together with the tight bass lines, it's just heavy and moving and inspiring and ... Wow.

"I love Perry, Man", said the crying man nearby, needlessly as we already knew. Understood again, as when they tore through "Just Because" and "Been Caught Stealing" back to back, everyone in there loved Perry, even if they'd somehow never heard of him before (some teen girls I overheard and confirmed for my flabbergasted mind. Well, NOW they know!), as he was giving them the show of their just kicked off Summer.

"3 Days" slowed it down and heated it up. Etty and Stephanie came out in little black numbers with mouth gags on, and the guys smashed up against us were dying. It was hot, even when Bubba, now kind of a white mummy, came back to haunt the ladies. The spectacle is so big and cool, but it would just be set dressing without how seriously good the music behind it all is. "3 Days" goes through so many musical twists and turns and emotions and seductions that you feel spent afterwards, like you were actually in on this trippy threesome.

You can't be spent at all ever when you hear "Ocean Size" pound through your body. The screen had sweet waves rolling during this song that is sheer perfect for Southern California. It was huge, ocean size, really. Like when you feel the bass pounding in your heart and you just want more BIG. They powered right into "Stop" and the band showed how playing so many shows lately has made them air-tight. I want to go back and re-live the set because I'm getting all happy about it again typing about it.

The hyper teenagers around me were feeling that way too, and by now even the crying guy was grinning. Perry was jumping around like a hyper teenager himself, and that energy is incredibly infectious. That's the feeling you get at a live Jane's show, and you should never miss that chance if you care at all about rock music. Full STOP.

The amphitheater was packed, and it sounded like everyone in there was going hoarse yelling as the guys came back out to play the classic, "Jane Says", stripped down and acoustic, with steel drums.  Dave, Chris and Stephen lined the front of the stage, and Perry just left it, going straight into the pit crowd to sing along with all the fans that knew every single word. The people held Perry up as he swigged from a wine bottle and smiled.  As I think about it now, it was really more like everyone was holding each other up, sharing those rare and perfect rock show moments where everything is perfect (and under an almost full moon!), everyone is having a great time, drawing positive energy from each other, and no one wants it to end.

End it must, and did. The trick is to keep that feeling going inside yourself.

(Especially on the long, well worth it, late-night drive back to Venice. Rock!)

Catch Jane's Addiction on the next leg of this seriously spectacular tour!

*Photos by Stephanie Hobgood - in the pit!

Aloha To One Of The World's Greatest - Darren Sakai

There is a Memorial service today on the Big Island of Hawai'i for one of my life's greatest friends and inspirations, Darren Sakai. He died from awful cancer last week, and the world will never be the same. I can't be there today, so I'll look out across the Pacific from Venice and wish I were there to paddle out in his honor. I imagine all his loved ones getting up to speak about this joy of a human being, and this is what I would say if I could be there...

Darren Sakai taught me so much about life, while he was living it large, and while slowly leaving it. We were roommates in Hilo in the 90's, and every moment spent in his company was full of lessons, love and laughter. I stuck out like a sore thumb in Hilo, with my hair turned white from the sunshine. I had never had the experience before of someone not liking you for what you couldn't help ... your skin color. I was a dime a dozen in Minnesota, being Scandinavian, and when a big old Samoan girl once wanted to beat me down just for being haole. We worked it out, but it was the first time in my life I remotely experienced anything close to racism directed at me. It sucked, but what a valuable lesson to have in the back pocket of your life. Darren was one of the first people in town to befriend me. I'll never forget being on UH-Hilo campus with my one friend in town so far, Matt (also from Minnesota). This Asian guy with hair down to his ankles came walking up, saying, "Howzit?" and elaborately hand-shaking Matt, who introduced us. We were rock solid down from the very start.

I'd see him around town, driving his white pick-up truck, with the back usually full of plants or surfboards. When the big Northridge earthquake happened in California, there were fears of a tsunami hitting Hilo (twice before wiped out by tsunamis in its past), and choppers were flying overheard announcing "MOVE TO HIGHER GROUND!" I was on crutches from a hiking stumble, and began crutching up the mountain, as I had no wheels. Darren soon drove by, scooped me into the back of his truck, and we drove up into the hills and chilled until the all-clear. Darren to the rescue! Soon thereafter, everyone I knew had gone their various places for the Christmas holiday, and I was extra lonely. One evening there was a knock on the door and Darren and some pals were there to see how I was doing and if I wanted to hang out. So sweet, so thoughtful. We spent that New Year's Eve eating sushi and drinking sake in someone's kitchen, talking about all our lofty goals.

Soon after that, my living situation (in my boss's home - never do that) turned out to be too much to handle, and D Funk and I found a place on Hale Street with another friend, Chris. Darren moved me out of my pad in the dark of night in a hurry, and we moved into our fun house. There was no power for the first few days before it got hooked up, and we'd sit and talk and laugh and learn in the candlelight. Darren would sit and share his knowledge on just about everything, as he put tea tree oil through his long hair. Darren knew everything about plants. He was the first person I ever smoked what he called "the healing of the nations" with (late bloomer), as we listened to every single reggae song ever recorded in his room. I treasure the many mix tapes he made me, and hope there will always be some way to play those things. He instilled in me the deepest love for reggae, that still makes me think of him every time I hear that beat.

He was the healthiest person I ever knew. A Spirulina smoothie for breakfast type of guy, he was also a great cook (one Easter dinner we made of crab and purple yams remains one of my all-time favorite meals) who loved fresh food and gave great thanks for every morsel he ate. He trained all the time in martial arts, both mentally and physically. I still pull out the spin kick sometimes that he used to make me do all time, just for fun. He would quote Dragon - The Bruce Lee Story constantly, telling me, "Do not look at the finger pointing at the moon, or you will miss all the Heavenly glory." Deep - and understood.

It is a cruel fate that someone as truly healthy and proud of it as Darren was would be cut down by disease. Darren Sakai has colon cancer?!?! It simply made no sense - and neither does life, often. It kind of makes you feel like you should do whatever you want, because there's no rhyme or reason to it all anyway. I think Darren would respond to that idea that it still makes you feel better while you're alive to treat your body and mind well, so that's the reason. He was always so wise - beyond his years - earning him the"D Funk Monk" title.
Man, when I think of all the treasures of times sitting looking at a perfect sunset, or swimming Kona side, or checking the surf at Honoli'i, or cruising the Farmer's Market and Abundant Life, going nuts laughing sometimes and sitting in quiet contemplation at others ... I just can't believe that there will never be another one. I hadn't seen Darren in person in years, but we talked and texted all the time. When he was dealing (for 5 years!) with the medieval treatments that I cannot BELIEVE are still the same as what my Dad (the anniversary of Dad's death from cancer was yesterday) had to endure over three decades ago, he somehow was able to retain his positivity all throughout. I would follow the day to day stuff on Facebook, and was so moved by how many people - perfect strangers even - he was touching through his courage in the battle that even this brave, strong and noble Sensai was ultimately felled by.

He once took me to Green Lake on a little adventure. I had slept weird and had that neck thing were you have to turn your whole body to look at something, so I wasn't going to go along on the day trip. Darren insisted that I had to see this place, and that it would heal me. We went, stiff neck and all, and hiked across the fields to the lake that even Jacques Cousteau's team never found the bottom of, as it's really a dormant lava tube. There was a raft moored to a tree for men to swim out to chill on, since it was said that Madame Pele - the Goddess of the Volcano - would suck men down into the never-ending depths if they put their heads under water. All the volcanic minerals made Green Lake a healing place as well, Darren said, and sure enough and no lie, I dove in the water and emerged to find my neck perfectly fine. Better than fine, GREAT! It was a magical day all around, and one of my fondest memories that I took with me when I moved back to the Mainland.

When Darren got sicker and it seemed that options were running out, it immediately occurred to me that Darren should try swimming in Green Lake. He told me that it was now on private property, and no one could go there anymore. That was when I started to formulate my plan to fly over there, get bolt cutters, and spirit him away to try it, no matter what the penalty. I was telling my friend, Matt Jennings, this story and he said, "I think that's your first song." Matt is a wonderful musician and had been encouraging me to turn my stories into song lyrics for some time, but I always balked. I've always felt more prose than poem. Once he said this about Darren and Green Lake though, it sparked in my head that I could do it because it would stoke Darren that he had inspired me to branch out creatively, which he too had always encouraged. I wrote the words, thinking about my Brother D Funk the whole time. A week or so later, Matt sent me the song with music. My first song! I cried, as I do, emotional that something lovely had been created out of our heads, but also because of how it had come to be, that it was for my dear friend, who was now slowly and painfully dying. I sent it to Darren, who replied, "AWESOME!" and now Matt and I have a whole bunch of songs, that came about only because of the first one. Only because of Darren.

We never got him to Green Lake, so we'll never know how that would have gone. We do know that anyone in this world who was touched by the grace of Darren Sakai is better and happier for it. My heart aches for his wife, Lora, who I've never yet met but who I know is fantastic and Darren loved her deeply. I'm so sad for his parents and all his extended family and friends, as there will never be another one like him. I wish I were there on the Big Island today to hug each and every one, and celebrate the life of such a rare and wonderful human being. I take comfort in the many happy, unforgettable times I was lucky enough to share with D Funk (He would call and leave a message, always singing, "Make my funk the G Funk!" at the end), and will carry him along with me in my heart and soul for the rest of my days.

Aloha, my friend!!! And MAHALO, for bringing your joy into the world for every moment we were lucky enough to have you here, and for showing us how to live while you can. I'm not looking at the finger pointing at the moon ... I'm imagining all the Heavenly glory, made even more glorious by your shining arrival.

In loving memory of Darren Sakai ... Always.


* Pictures taken from Darren's Facebook page as all of mine are old school hard copies I have yet to scan.

** I probably would have been more brief in person. Probably. Blessings and ALOHA!!! to all of you there in A Bay today!

Days In May

We're just wrapping up one of the most gorgeous Mays ever here in Venice. A lot has been going on, so much so that there isn't always enough time to spin all the tales I want to in a timely fashion. But I just feel so grateful and lucky to be alive to experience gorgeous evenings like this ... on a friend's rooftop in Venice. You breathe it all in deeply and know that these moments - with great people and good food and stiff drinks with no alarm the next morning and sunsets - are what truly matter the most. Always.

 

* Beautiful photo by Jennifer Everhart

Solar Eclipse Of The Heart!

I was in project mode one recent Saturday, and found myself poking around in Lincoln Hardware, getting ready to paint a chair bright red. I looked up from my deciding to see my friend and Venice impresario, Danny Samakow, all excited and on a mission. He told me that the next day was going to be the best solar eclipse of our lifetime, and he was on his way to the Valley to buy a whole bunch of special glasses to view the spectacle through. Awesome. I told him I'd see him tomorrow, and we split our separate ways. I painted and thought about how much I love Danny's sense of "School Spirit", for lack of a better term.

He is always organizing and facilitating fun in the name of Venice and its people. I mean, who wants to and then actually DOES drive to the Valley on their Saturday to get special glasses to make something more fun for others? Then offers up special Eclipse drink deals at Danny's Deli and gives any glasses donation money to AIDS research? Danny, that's who. He reminds me of a friend of mine from college who once showed up with massive amounts of glow sticks that we broke open to fling the light stuff around our walls and play (toxic) glow tag with. He would say, "There's nothing worse than running out of fun". Danny is that same type of dude. A real gem, and Spirit of Venice preservationist who we should all thank every time we see him and his wonderful team/s. For real.

Sunday was weird out all day, alternating fog and sun. Most Venice people I spoke to were Art Walk crowd avoiding, and doing their own thing. Which is why it was so great to get down to the beach just in time for the apex of the eclipse (6:38 pm!) and see absolutely everyone gazing skyward, collectively sharing the phenomenon.

And a phenomenon it was! The fog muted the whole thing, and made it so you didn't really need the special glasses (but probably should have worn anyway) to see the super trippy eclipse go down. People were sharing the glasses bought at Danny's Deli (About $1,000 bones made for AIDS research!) with strangers and passersby. It was hard to capture in photos, as was the electricity you felt in those moments of group excitement.

There aren't that many events, especially natural ones, that bring a whole people together in the name of just seeing something cool, and way bigger than us. This was such an evening, and the beating of the drum circle in the distance only made it all feel more tribal. Heavy and joyous at the same time, which is what life itself is, after all.

To celebrate, we hit all three of Danny's joints, and wound up at the Canal Club inventing what may be the drink for Summer '12. A mango margarita with pepper infused tequila! So it tastes just like when you get a mango from a fruit cart person and they put the chili powder on it, and it's a perfect fiesta in your mouth. We called it "The Eclipse". Try it. And HAPPY SUMMER 2012 in Venice!!!

Here's to never running out of fun!

Moods of Norway Celebrates Norwegian National Day - L.A. Style!

Norway celebrates its National Day (Syttende Mai) on May 17th, and for the third year in a row I got to throw down with the Norwegians of the super duper clothing brand, Moods of Norway.

They are the best people ever, and really know how to throw a party. Judging from the line outside, the word is spreading that Norwegians are the jam.

The place was packed with real blondes, and a lot of scenester people that had never heard of Syttende Mai before. And that's ok ... One Love!

Moods of Norway founder and owner, Stefan Dahlkvist, was the host of the evening, and was having as good a time as anyone there. He told me they're about to open their summer ski resort in Norway, and that is HIGH on my list of must life experiences. Ja.

This was a very L.A. Norwegian experience, from the long line out front, red carpet deal, the Moods blue limo parked out front, the sparkly gold tractor (MON's logo), some iffy plastic surgery, and everyone taking phone pictures.

But the warmth of the store's wooden walls, and homespun photos and embroidery placed around cozied it right up, in spite of the pressure to be a scene.

Moods served up the usual champagne and waffles they're know for, but for the night party they had a Border Grill truck set up in the back, and Viking Fjord vodka drinks ("Grandma's Disco Fuel" - on the very day that Donna Summer died - RIP) getting the crowd all loosened up.

This was most evident in the area reserved for the Viking Photo booth. Folks of all ethnic backgrounds were transformed into ferocious Vikings via horned helmets, beards, Thor hammers, shields and Glogg mugs. Everyone had the Viking spirit, for sure, some (I'm talking to you, rosy-cheeked ass grabber) more than others.

Moods of Norway suits were well represented on the gentlemen in attendance,

And the ladies were mostly fancy, though one woman wore her traditional bunad costume, and I was jealous.

Norwegians are very friendly, and seem to get a kick out of my trying to speak my few bits of the language that I retained from college in Minnesota. They also get a kick out of the fact that most Norwegians they meet ARE from Minnesota. Similar climates, I guess.

One woman I met (Anna, I think - Viking Fjord fog) and I got to chatting and her son is going to college in Minnesota near where I went. We were talking about our various traditions and foods and stuff, and she told me that it's mandatory in her family that she make Norwegian meatballs each Christmas. I said, "How are Norwegian meatballs different from Swedish meatballs?" She smiled at me and very confidently said, "They're MUCH bigger."

We laughed and looked around at all the happy people ("Happy clothes for Happy People"), proud of our heritage, and also happy to be exactly where we were.

SKOL!!!

Alexander Calder at L & M, Venice

L & M Arts in Venice just opened their Alexander Calder show, and it is swell.
 

I don't know why that adjective just popped into my head, but maybe because Calder is from another time, but could still be hip now, like swell.  Anyway, I had an unbooked hour today for some weird reason, and jammed over to L & M to check it out. I was once again all alone in there to take it all in. I find that I now prefer this more holy experience there much more than the packed openings, where it's more about the outfits and looking around at who's there than it is the work. Fun, sure, but not the way to really get and appreciate how ahead of his time Mr. Calder was.

Born in 1898 in Pennsylvania, Calder's work - especially the gouache paintings (all Untitled) - could easily fit in on a building today, or the Graffiti Wall in Venice, and everyone would think it was done by a stealthy modern street artist.

Who would then be collected by all the hipsters and skateboard companies would hire him to design decks and tra la la la la, he'd be off to the races.

Only he died in 1976, and never heard about all of this stuff we talk about today. He was the real deal. Internationally revered art world superstar and innovator. The kids today could learn a lot from studying Calder, and right now it's right up the street, for free.

His fanciful kinetic mobiles (so-dubbed by Marcel Duchamp) and bright use of color was inspired by a love of the circus that Calder had his whole life. The stationary ones were named "Stabiles" by Jean Arp, but they still seem to be moving, in their grace.

It always puts a spring in your step when you come across one of his outdoor sculptures somewhere in the world (like the outdoor one from 1965 here, 3 White Arrows (3 fleche blanches) .

It's always child-like fun AND super sophisticated design, all at the same time.

Standing in the middle of the galleries, looking around at the various moving pieces floating around and all the carnival colors, made me think of a bunch of stuff.

Like dragonflies and cribs and Bazooka Joe and fireworks and ballet and balance and plants and planets and justice, for some reason, and love, always love. Of person, place or both.

Because you can't make things like this and not absolutely love what you're doing. It's evident, and it's free, yet the simplicity makes it all the more complex. Again, like love.

So there you have it. Over 30 years since Calder's death, he's showing in Venice and could easily roll with all the current urban/legend artist cats. That's cool. And so are my little getaways inside of L & M. What a great little neighborhood treasure that I hope you all frequent. Because you GET to!
 

Alexander Calder's cool can be seen right now through June 16th at L & M, Venice.


L&M Arts
660 Venice Blvd.
Venice
10 am - 5:30 pm, Tuesday-Saturday.

May Day Rebellion!

Happy May Day, 99%! On the same day that he led a GuitArmy through New York City in a May Day Occupation, Tom Morello released his jam documentary short, World Wide Rebel Tour. Here it is for your viewing pleasure ...




Whatever it takes!  Solidarity.