Patti Smith
Easter
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The hero represents the gift of love, or again, grace—the latter epitomized, for example, in Arthur's effortless raising of the sword from the rock—or, in Hindu mythology, Rama's similar lifting of the bow. Both deeds indicate how heroic feats of critical importance are enacted at moments when there no longer exists a clear dividing line between will and act, or rather when, beyond all necessity to proceed according to any attitude of "intentional" motivation whatever, performer and performance are one. This occurs when the performer himself is not even conscious that what be has done is heroic. Yet it is, perhaps, just because he is not, that he alone can have achieved his task. —Dorothy
Read More Norman, The Hero: Myth/Image/Symbol the face of alexander remains not solely due to sculpture but through the power and magnetism and foresight of alexander. —Patti Smith, "High on Rebellion" Easter makes good on Patti Smith's biggest boast—that she is one of the great figures of Seventies rock & roll. More importantly perhaps, it focuses her mystical and musical visions in a way that makes her the most profoundly religious American popular performer since Jim Morrison. Clearly, there are bothersome contradictions between Smith's arrogance and her preachings, between her utter belief in the power of her own will and her absolute certainty that society's only salvation lies in a return to ecstatic ritual surrender. But Easter, like the rite on which it is based, can't be apprehended rationally: you either take it on faith or not at all. Smith's last album, Radio Ethiopia, was a disaster for the noblest of reasons. By trying to create an egalitarian framework for the band, the singer buried herself, and the lyrics disappeared into the murk of a mediocre heavy-metal mix. (It is typical of Smith that this remarkable act of self-effacement was transparently willful.) On Easter, she steps out front again, and the band responds by playing with as much purpose, drive and conviction as anyone could ask. "25th Floor" makes the Patti Smith Group the most logical heir to the Velvet Underground, while "Space Monkey" suggests both the Doors (in the organ intro) and the New York Dolls (at the song's simian conclusion). This band isn't virtuosic, mostly because it's not a group that's interested in virtuosity. It isn't punk or New Wave either; drummer Jay Dee Daugherty gives the sound a much more solid rhythmic footing than any of the bands lumped under those rubrics. (Daugherty's emergence is a key to the band's growth.) The new keyboard player, Bruce Brody, fleshes out the melodies, which are often sketchy, and gives the guitars something to grind against. Though the arrangements aren't credited, producer Jimmy Iovine must have had a lot to do with them; their interplay of tightness and spaciousness, plus a fresh sense of dynamics, are reflective of what Iovine
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