This was in today's New York Times.
Pretty Cool,I'd say....
Ain't It Strange?
By PATTI SMITH
Published: March 12, 2007
On a cold morning in 1955, walking to Sunday school, I was drawn to the
voice of Little Richard wailing "Tutti Frutti" from the interior of a
local
boy's makeshift clubhouse. So powerful was the connection that I let go
of
my mother's hand.
Rock 'n' roll. It drew me from my path to a sea of possibilities. It
sheltered and shattered me, from the end of childhood through a painful
adolescence. I had my first altercation with my father when the Rolling
Stones made their debut on "The Ed Sullivan Show." Rock 'n' roll was
mine to
defend. It strengthened my hand and gave me a sense of tribe as I
boarded a
bus from South Jersey to freedom in 1967.
Rock 'n' roll, at that time, was a fusion of intimacies. Repression
bloomed
into rapture like raging weeds shooting through cracks in the cement.
Our
music provided a sense of communal activism. Our artists provoked our
ascension into awareness as we ran amok in a frenzied state of grace.
My late husband, Fred Sonic Smith, then of Detroit's MC5, was a part of
the
brotherhood instrumental in forging a revolution: seeking to save the
world
with love and the electric guitar. He created aural autonomy yet did
not
have the constitution to survive all the complexities of existence.
Before he died, in the winter of 1994, he counseled me to continue
working.
He believed that one day I would be recognized for my efforts and
though I
protested, he quietly asked me to accept what was bestowed - gracefully
- in
his name.
Today I will join R.E.M., the Ronettes, Van Halen and Grandmaster Flash
and
the Furious Five to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. On
the
eve of this event I asked myself many questions. Should an artist
working
within the revolutionary landscape of rock accept laurels from an
institution? Should laurels be offered? Am I a worthy recipient?
I have wrestled with these questions and my conscience leads me back to
Fred
and those like him - the maverick souls who may never be afforded such
honors. Thus in his name I will accept with gratitude. Fred Sonic Smith
was
of the people, and I am none but him: one who has loved rock 'n' roll
and
crawled from the ranks to the stage, to salute history and plant seeds
for
the erratic magic landscape of the new guard.
Because its members will be the guardians of our cultural voice. The
Internet is their CBGB. Their territory is global. They will dictate
how
they want to create and disseminate their work. They will, in time,
make
breathless changes in our political process. They have the technology
to
unite and create a new party, to be vigilant in their choice of
candidates,
unfettered by corporate pressure. Their potential power to form and
reform
is unprecedented.
Human history abounds with idealistic movements that rise, then fall in
disarray. The children of light. The journey to the East. The summer of
love. The season of grunge. But just as we seem to repeat our follies,
we
also abide.
Rock 'n' roll drew me from my mother's hand and led me to experience.
In the
end it was my neighbors who put everything in perspective. An approving
nod
from the old Italian woman who sells me pasta. A high five from the
postman.
An embrace from the notary and his wife. And a shout from the
sanitation man
driving down my street: "Hey, Patti, Hall of Fame. One for us."
I just smiled, and I noticed I was proud. One for the neighborhood. My
parents. My band. One for Fred. And anybody else who wants to come
along.
