Americana Amore

There seems to be a blossoming musical revival happening in the Twin Cities. It’s a resurgence of new musical styles and forms including Americana music. For me, it’s been sixty years from roughly 1964 to the present, for my music to come back. From a coffee shop in West Saint Paul to old Saint Anthony, there are a growing number of performance venues scattered across the Twin Cities.

Is Amore Coffee Shop in West Saint Paul the new West Bank for Americana music? What about the Finish Bistro in Saint Anthony? Could be. At one point, near the mid-seventies, many artists left the West Bank and migrated to NorthEast Minneapolis. Now there seems to be a shift taking place with that music moving to other spots in the Twin Cities. The variety of new musical styles is astounding and new venues seem to be opening up each year.

On a more personal level, I’ve always had a long-term romance with Americana music. Whether from the hills of Appalachia, the Mississippi Delta, Chicago blues, western swing, cowboy songs, or folk ballads, that style of music has grabbed my soul and interest. It began in college with the Kingston Trio, Peter, Paul and Mary and more authentic purveyors of that folk art like Bob Dylan.

‘Tangled Roots’ is one of my plays reflective of that interest. The play is really a folk concert

wrapped around a storyline under the banner of a play. A retiree, once a struggling folk singer,

wants to return to his song-writing and performing days in an era when folk music is no longer

popular. A mysterious woman might be the answer to help him along his way.

Now at the ripe age of eighty-something, I’ve taken the tentative steps of writing my own songs

for several of my plays. It will be trying to capture the mood of that era while safely ensconced

in my present-day life.

It won’t be a return to the West Bank and my quasi-hippie experiences there. Those were wrapped up in memories, real and imagined, in one of my first novels ‘Love in the AShau.’ Instead it will be exploring the song genre under the umbrella of a new play.

Song writing is hard. Lyric writing is even harder. It’s not just arranging words to fit the mood.

It goes far beyond what the ear can hear and the heart can feel. A good set of lyrics can capture

the imagination like few things in life can.

I was always enthralled by the ability of a song and its lyrics to carry me to another world, to

wrench my heart strings taunt and rip open emotions long left dormant in a sometimes cold and

uncaring world. Three minutes of sound that captured my imagination, fueled my dreams, and left

me breathless sometimes with their self-imposed imagery. I was always left wondering ‘how in

the hell were they (the songwriters) able to do that? Now I want to find out for myself.

I’m discovering a whole new batch of singer/songwriters appearing on the local musical scene.

Some are seemingly plucked right out of the folk tradition. Others bring a more current

sensibility to their performances. Either way, the message is the same as it has been for hundreds

of years. It’s a call from the open road, justice for all and the freedom to love when and where

and how one chooses.

It’s a message I’m trying to create with my own song book of my personal songs. Right now, it’s

just a roughhewn collection of song titles, lyrics, thoughts, and emotions coming from my heart

and meant for a receptive audience. If or when it gets completed, is anyone’s guess. It’s

journey I’m on as an artist and one I can’t get off of. Such is the life….

Palaces for the People

I’ve often rambled on about the ‘old men in the coffee shop.’ Unfortunately, or not, I have categorized them as a group of individuals who seldom listen, often interrupt and usually talk about their world in disparaging ways. This is not my kind of salon in any sense of the word. But if they’re happy with their verbal pursuits, all the more power to them.

These informal gathering spots are usually organic in nature. The shop opens, customers discover its relaxed atmosphere and friends are made and reinforced each week. It might be at a coffee shop, a bookstore, the Guitar Center, a nearby gym, or other gathering spots for like-minded individuals. Turns out, those old men at the coffee shop may be really into something. Their gathering around the coffee urn is a rather microscopic way of talking about social infrastructures.

A book called ‘Palaces for the People’ defines social Infrastructure’ as any place where civic engagement and social interaction take place. This includes public institutions like libraries, schools, playgrounds, parks and athletic fields. On a more personal level it could include coffee shops, street corners, courtyards, community gardens, and other green spaces.

Liquid refreshments are often at the core of other countries ‘third places and social infrastructure. The Germans have their beer halls. The French have their cafes. The Japanese have their izakaya’s and karaoke bars. Robust social infrastructure doesn’t just encourage social exchange, it can contribute to economic growth.

New York City has its High Line in lower Manhattan. The Beltline in Atlanta, Georgia is developing slowly but will ultimately repurpose a twenty-two-mile rail corridor circling the city into thirty-three miles of trails, as well as a string of parks, public artworks, and affordable housing projects.

Back in the 50s and 60s, the Twin Cities had its own version of social infrastructure around the University of Minnesota. Dinkytown and the West Bank were havens for the disenfranchised, disconnected and slumming students looking for a taste of ‘real life.’

Gathering spots around Dinkytown like the Ten O’Clock Scholar, the Purple Onion and The Extempore hosted a wide swath of students, Folkies and the mildly curious. The West Bank took it down a notch with dive bars, rooming houses and the holy grail of the bohemian mindset; the Triangle Bar.

My perch from which to explore this flip side of young adulthood was a rundown tired mansion on University Avenue. It had long since been turned into a rooming house / apartment building with dwelling units (if you could call them that) carved out of once posh showcase housing.

My history at the Triangle Bar was documented in one of my first novels ‘Love in the A Shau.’ The activities, discussions, schooner beer ventures and tokin' among friends all took place there for my protagonist Daniel and myself.

I was going through my ‘wanna be a hippie’ stage at that point in my life. Working two jobs, I found in the Triangle Bar, Art Theaters and writing poetry at night, a respite from the confusion still plaguing my wondering / wandering mindset. At this stage in my life, I no long have the Triangle Bar but I’ve got something just as good and more age-appropriate. My ‘third place’ has morphed into what I call my coffee and chat sessions.

The ‘third place’ is a setting beyond home and work; a place where people relax in good company and do so on a regular basis. Its origination is usually organic in nature, impromptu and unplanned. Folks start to talk to one another; thoughts and ideas are exchanged and those conversations morph into a pleasant experience for all the participants.

Now I’ve moved beyond that to my own third place and I’m loving it.  My third place began at Dunn Brothers but has now moved to my back porch, park settings, lake fronts, park shelters, etc. COVID-19 was the catalyst for this change. When meeting indoors was risky, I decided to test the outdoors instead. I’ve never looked back.

My Coffee and Chat sessions have grown over the last couple of years into something very special for me and my participants. My age group, especially among men, often times have limited resources for the kind of cerebral salon I find so inviting. There are just some subjects that men are more comfortable discussing among their peers even more so than with family and casual friends. The conversations can be deep, shallow, personal, impersonal, irrelevant, stupid, silly, crude, gross and ‘you were talking about what?..... but always engaging. And that’s the whole idea, an environment where folks can talk to intimates and never have to apologize for the subject matter.

Different folks, different backgrounds, different perspectives. We’ve managed to avoid talking about politics unless our views are in close alignment. Even then I’d rather talk about something fun, enjoyable, stimulating, thought-provoking or satisfying.

My friend, Bob, in California, loves to talk about his current writing projects and me about mine. We’ve found that our sharing critiques are really helpful in bringing a fresh perspective to any current project of ours. My friends back home bring a plethora of similar life experiences to our vernacular mix.

It may have taken me a lifetime to find pleasure and great value in cerebral discourse and exchange but I’ve got it now…and it’s a hoot.