LAST DANCE

April 2nd, 2008 by dave tilton · No Comments

In Iran, according to Wikipedia, people play practical jokes on each other every April 3, a tradition believed to have originated some time around 536 B.C. The jokes probably have not changed all that much in 2500 years, give or take a decade. A prank is a prank is a prank.

I considered a prank-themed review for this April 3 edition of Listen & Be Heard, something along the lines of fabrication or silliness, but I am just not in the mood for jokes right now.

I would love to be able to say that Tony and Martha have pulled one of the all-time greatest pranks on Vallejo by announcing the closing of the Listen & Be Heard Poetry Café, having one of the greatest farewell events EVER last Saturday, and moving into new avenues of life, all as a joke, but I cannot. The café is closed. Done. No more.

So instead of the usual review of a CD, film, or book, here are some of the images that keep replaying in my mind from the only Final Four that really mattered during this year’s March Madness – the music and poetry of the last hours of the Listen and Be Heard Poetry Café:

*Martha picking up her flute a little after noon and saying, “Come on, let’s go play something” to me. We began playing three chords that somehow became Bob Dylan’s “Shelter from the Storm.” Her high, sweet notes complemented lyrics like “And if I pass this way again/You can rest assured/I’ll always do my best for her/On that I give my word.” That Bob. What a jokerman.

*The poets who shared their work. There was a steady flow of images and testimony. One read about drinking red wine, listening to Thelonius Monk, and having sex. Another gave an account of life on the streets of Oakland. A poet named William accompanied himself on udu and shared a wide-ranging poem about being “a weed, but God thinks I’m a flower.” Tony narrated a story about meeting “the golden girl” that was maybe one verb short of spontaneous combustion; I kept waiting for something to explode (my head, perhaps?). Just as effective was the man – was it David Koven? - who came onstage to share a poem of his from memory and forgot everything except the beginning section about Socrates and the last few words. Martha did her “I wanna talk about love” poem, one that has become a huge favorite of mine in recent months, and ended the afternoon with a powerful poem about “movin’ on.” Halfway through it, she asked a young man to take a turn onstage; he was so overcome with emotion, he could barely speak. THAT’S poetry.

*William on udu and Ron Williams on djembe (William and Williams, anyone?) putting down some awesome percussion parts on Dennis Ocampo’s new song “Vallejo,” not once but twice during that afternoon. Dennis and I had rehearsed the song earlier in the week; everyone else who played on it that afternoon just listened really well and added exactly what it needed. As Dennis said after everything had ended, “There were no slackers on that stage today.”

*Ed Rivers pulling some nearly-forgotten songs out of his head, songs like Three Dog Night’s “Shambala,” along with classics like “Folsom Prison Blues,” “Can’t You See,” and even “Short’nin’ Bread,” all backed by the above-mentioned musicians and myself, all focused on playing together, not showing off favorite licks.

*“Blue Monk” played shortly after the poem about listening to its composer. William laughed after it ended and said, “Man, I thought you guys said you wanted to play something by the MONKEES! I was getting a little worried there!”

*Ron playing “Use Me Up” just like he did every time I heard him play it, with both fire and a sense of pure fun. Bill Withers would have loved it.

*John (whose surname I did not hear) reading the final paragraphs of William Faulkner’s Nobel Prize acceptance speech. Its final sentence may have summed up Tony and Martha’s intentions during their time on 818 Marin Street: “The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.”

*A woman who danced herself to Woodstock and back while Ed sang Canned Heat’s “Going Up the Country.” Baby, don’t YOU wanna go?

*Joe, one of the musicians who seemed to come and go during the Saturday morning acoustic jams, late as always, showed up with his bass and sat in for the last half-hour. It would not have been the same without him there.

*I was pretty happy with my musical contributions, too, and I hope everyone else enjoyed what I played. It was truly an honor to be a part of that day, one I shall cherish always.

*Enough potluck-style food to recall a well-known story about loaves and fishes.

*Cleven Goudeau – “Goodie” – making his way to the microphone after the final note was fading away, just to say a few words of thanks to Tony and Martha for everything they did and to share his hopes that the good feelings and times that took place at Listen and Be Heard will continue.

*Tony and Martha’s son Ben hugging people while everyone was taking their final looks at the cafe.