Tell us a bit about yourself.
I was born and raised in the Los Angeles metropolitan area and spent my first 32 years there1953-1986. I'm at that age where friends are retiring and I'm still wondering what my job is supposed to be that I can "retire" from. I'm a career bohemian, I guess. Although, unlike my hero, Maynard G Krebs, I wasn't shy of work. I always say I've worked on land, sea, and air. As a kid I mowed lawns. I've built houses, worked shipping and receiving, worked on oil derricks in the Gulf of Mexico, been a wedding photographer and auto mechanic, and worked at the post office, and all the while I was a writer. When my hometown newspaper, The Daily Report
, turned me down, I realized that was providential, as I would hate to turn something I love so much into drudgery. Sort of how I wound up writing the L.A. column for CODA
for 18 years. I had no desire to be a jazz writer, but hanging out on the scene, I drew the short straw and was sent to infiltrate the magazine, mostly wanting to make myself usefulI was 22 at the time and even though I had swallowed jazz whole, I still had a lot to learn. But house painting is what I did here in Albuquerque. My wife, Janet, and I moved here in 1991, and I did that for 15 years or so, and loved it. It's relaxing. I painted a lot of houses. Walking along with Leroy Jenkins
after he was a guest on my radio show, heading for my truck, I pointed out three houses I had painted, and he tried to talk me into painting his place in Brooklyn. I wish I had taken him up on that, he was serious. What's your earliest memory of music?
This is sort of Freudian isn't it? My friend, the violinist Eileen Sullivan, told me that when she was pregnant she used to listen to this Mozart horn concerto she was studying, and after her son was born, one day she happened to be listening to the recording of that same horn concerto and her son, who had been playing with friends in the yard came inside and went to Eileen and hugged her and laid down in her lap. How old were you when you got your first record?
Must have been early seventh grade. It was Paul Revere and the Raiders. I wish I could say Coltrane or Bartok, but that was a few years down the line. I grew up in the Top 40 AM transistor radio era. Much earlier in my life we had a 78 player in an antique console, but by the mid-60s there was no record player in our house, so with paper route earnings I bought a little $17 box 3-speed turntable. I actually had my first album (Mr. Revere) before I had a record player! Maybe I just liked looking at them dressed in revolutionary war uniforms on the cover?
But I was mostly a radio listener. AM radio for a few years: I'd sit on the edge of my bed and set the transistor radio next to me tuned to KHJ or KRLA and rock back and forth for hours. (I'm what psychologists call a rocker; we'd have to flip the mattress, as there was a depression where I wore out the springs. Nowadays, every once in a great while I'll spot a kid rocking in the back seat of his parents' car and wonder what in the Sam Hill is wrong with that weirdo.) By seventh grade my parents had bought one of those "contempo moderne" pieces of furniture that had a stereo in it, and late at night I'd listen to FM radio quietlylike listening to Radio Free America, right? It was a pure stroke of luck that I was within earshot of one of the early "underground radio" stations: KPPC out of Pasadena, California, where I was completely brought up to speed on the boho scene: The psychedelic '60s in full swing, this station focused mostly on folkies, blues, rock, and a smattering of jazz. I heard Bird for the first time on this station, and Lord Buckley, Ken Nordine
, Lenny Bruce. In 1969 I bought my first stereo component system and headphones so I could listen, and one Christmas my parents bought me a Boston rocker, so I spent my high school years wearing out the carpet in my rocking chair with my headphones on. What was the first concert you ever attended?
This is sort of fuzzy, but I think it was Judy Collins, and I took my girlfriend Laurie Ryan (her mother drove us). That would be 1968? The concert was magical. When you are so young you can hardly believe that you can go see these mythical beings, and she stood there radiant, with only a guitar and her sylvan voice, it was like Galadriel singing. But, also, those years I was hitchhiking to the nearby Claremont College where I'd see Rambling Jack Elliott, John Fahey, Elizabeth Cotten, Guy Carawan, all those acts that were on the circuit coming out of Club 47 in Cambridge. Their fingerpicking blew my mind. I grew up playing guitar with my grandfather, who was country, so I had never seen anything like this kind of finger facility before, and the audiences those years were so reverent, you really felt the sense of the '60s and how things were opening up.