Me, hoping that someday, when the planets align, there will be someone else.
Influences
Coffee, Yucatecan restaurants, Garcia Marquez with his ghosts and bags of bones, Junot Diaz, City Lights, Pacific Ave. in Santa Cruz, before the quake, when people had names like Bliss and Sunshine and White Feather, tripping in the hills by the university, the Ramones, getting crushed in the front row at the Catalyst, sweating, my arms shielding my date, X, Exene snapping at me during an interview, Wilco, greeting Tweedy out in front of Slim's, dogs, even the one that attacked me as a kid, Don Quixote, sleeping in a field beside the train station in Barcelona, Las Ramblas, the scent of paella, Houston, my brothers, who taught me about respect, the Texas Hill Country, swimming in the river in Llano, TX by the railroad hotel, then sliding back to the Pacific Coast, standing on the railroad trestle above the boardwalk, waiting for the fog to burn off, and stones, everywhere, throwing at anything, loving every minute. But before all of that, my grandfather, after my grandmother died, alone but not complaining, reading, laughing, watching baseball, the roses growing, fast food and cigars, adoring us. And a bit later, 15 years old, meeting Melissa, Melinda, Jill and Julie on the Village Green, sirens on bikes, all smiles and songs, crashing my ship on their summer stones, gratefully. My mom and my dad, slaving their asses off for us.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDwk6sH5_6g
Sounds Like
Neil Young, if he couldn't write very well, played guitar with his hands wrapped in thick bandages, and had been greatly influenced by his own songs.
Currently holed up in San Francisco's Mission District. Back from a six-year, self-imposed exile, and things are different now, holding my daughter's hand as I criss-cross these foggy avenues. She's so much like me, digging the coffee houses, looking into people's faces, drawing stars and other celestial bodies -- but I'm feeling just a bit guilty since she's the only kid in Muddy's on Valencia. The place sort of mellows in a tribute to a child unfazed by the world that ravaged them. My Petaluma songs ring differently here too, but in a good way. Maybe I've created enough distance to allow them to stand on their own two feet. So many new words out there yet I can't seem to funnel 20 of them into a song. My brow furrowed at the thought of this year's losses, though it's always been like this. Life. Every day is a different dance, not all of them jigs. Just pay attention -- I think that's what it's all about.
This layout was handmade with love by the folks at My space or yours? Go get one!
Hope you can make it to one of my shows!! Next one is April 3rd at the forestville club in forestville, Ca. The Rovetti Experience with The Sawdawgz!! Show starts at 9:00pm!!! So bring some friends and come on out!! It's going to be a blast!!!
