Sophie B. Hawkins

Hello everyone, we’re flying home now, after a day and a half in Vermont. We slept where Robert Frost sleeps, his dust, anyhow. Vermont is peaceful, quiet as the snow that preserves it. There’s a place for every stage of life, every personality, every endeavor. I always thought I’d be in one place for all my existence, and essentially maybe that’s the way it is. We adapt, but do we really change who we are? That’s how a mother knows her child from the moment of birth, and what she does with the knowledge says allot about her, because the child will be who the child was born to be, who the child is.

I loved this pre-new song cycle stint, it was a great adventure and a tremendous lift, musically. I had such a good time meeting some of you and I am grateful to those who showed up, even in spirit. I will be touring allot soon, with the new stuff, so keep your ears peeled and coats buttoned up to be ready for a sloshy, splashy, rebirth this Spring.

Sophie B.

Tonight I did something I never thought I’d do, in fact, I think I said I would never do it. I ordered a Pepper Mushroom wiz wit from Pat’s on Passyunk. And I ate it all. They even pushed a costumer aside to hand Berry some chopped steak, who ate it on the bar outside with the rest of us.

A fine end to a fabulous evening with my Philly friends, I also walked around before the show and discovered Olde City Coffee. Now I’m set to come back in the spring. Jimmy Paxson is playing drums with me on this tour, and Ed Roth is playing keyboards. What a musical reunion, so alive and creative, and playing with Stevie Nicks seems to have let Jimmy tap into a whole nother level which he’s bringing to these shows.

I feel we’re going new places every moment, I’m excited on stage, and comfortable ’cause that’s where we should be, securely on the edge. The road is lovely, dark and deep, but we have miles to go before we sleep.

See you in Maine, Sophie

At Pat's Steak

Hello everyone, how art thou? We are on the smooth road from Connecticut to Philly, no ice just the wind on our backs. We had a great show at the Mohegan resort, I felt the presence of the Native
Americans, I got messages looking up at the clouds, me and Berry casting shadows between the birch and pine trees. One was how we pay for our meager comforts with an abundance of stress and anxiety. I felt animal skins wrapped round my shoulders, me and berry tracking a warm blooded animal to cook with our tribe, teepees to go in and out of, fires, good smokes and dream rich sleeps.

I read in National Geographic about the Hazda (or Hadza-dont have the article with me) an ancient tribe still around in Tanzania. The long and the short of it is, they work 4 hours a day, have a loose social order, almost no sickness and disease, excellent health, incredibly well developed seeing, hearing and intuitive faculties, no stress, no war, (well channeled aggression) and they leave no footprint. Back to the Native Americans, if they had so much art, such a developed spirituality, so much skill and respect for one another within the tribe, elders who mattered, and taught the first Europeans and British so much about farming and tracking and survival, well then I could survive if our society was obliterated. In fact, the people who could re-adapt would survive better, with a higher consciousness, less stress and more creativity.

I imagined beading by the fire and getting sleepy, having a tribe to help raise Dashiell instead of paying my life savings for these Nannies (who I am very grateful for and adore) and hunting and fishing instead of paying bills for not so good services. The thought made me warm inside.

More later, Sophie B

Hello hello from the sprawling highway somewhere between the Denny’s in Baker’s field and Napa Valley. We left at the crotch of dawn this morning in a white whale of a van to play. Tomorrow we have radio (KPIG) and 2 shows at Don Quixote. How are you? I’m feeling good. On New Year’s eve I asked myself what I wanted to do to represent the new year, and I answered, “I want to do something challenging, that scares me”. So I got a big ass canvas and went out to a very public place and painted. I went back for 3 days and then the next weekend, and what a great experience.

First of all, human beings passing by had diverse and inexplicable comments, but also such wonderment at seeing someone on their corner painting. So many people were guilelessly exhilarated by a fellow human being creative in that understated setting, as if I were a part of themselves, each in there own way, that they had forgotten. One little boy stood beside me and declared defiantly, “you’re an artist!” And I thought, “you’re an artist.” But he had run away.

I remembered the description of Lilly Briscoe in To The Lighthouse from when I was 14 years old in Riverside Park, and I smiled that I had a touch of her in me. On one of the afternoons a huge young man stood behind me and berated me for putting in a certain statue, I gave him enough time to leave me in peace, and then I weiled on him with my paintbrush, and he backed way up. We did have an impassioned exchange of street talk, but he finally left with his angry opinions and burdens of self loathing, telling me to “shove the painting up my ass.”

Art is sometimes a key and sometimes a weapon, sometimes a seductress and sometimes a rapist, but it sure does bring out what is within. So let it be a taste of the new year, already challenging and enticing. The new cycle of songs is being exposed to the market place little by little, the songs are being mastered early February and we’re choosing the direction of the release. Really good feedback, so far. Can’t wait to give it to you.

I wrote before about this country, America, which I love so passionately and I hope is as unique and free for Dashiell as it has been for me. I see the amount of aide Americans are giving to Haitians and I am proud of us, yet why don’t we do this for each other? Why don’t we text a 10 dollar pledge to a family in Wilmington Ohio, or readily open up our families for adoption of desperate kids here?

When I talk about America I mean the people, us, not the government, what it has become. I have endless faith in the people, and that’s why we need all of our rights and freedoms in tact, to do good, to make good, to create good.

My muso was talking about how he couldn’t get a loan for a car his wife needed for life and work even though he has excellent credit etc. Well, he got a loan from an individual who knows him and he pays it with interest responsibly every month just the same as any bill. This is the way, we don’t need to be crippled by banks, by the system, we need us.

We make a trashed house gorgeous with our own hands while we’re working to make ends meet, we make our lives better everyday with no help. These are the people I know, anyhow. Have you tried a Majic Jack? Unbelievable service, cheap as dirt. I think we try to prove ourselves when we only need to live and act with integrity, tell the truth from our hearts, give to each other the way we give to the world…can you imagine?

The other thing is, like the man who picked a fight with me because he didn’t like the statue I had painted in my painting, why do we judge one another and even hate someone because they have a different belief or point of view? I like being around people who think differently, but are respectful. When everyone who has the same values and same points of view are in the same neighborhood, it feels like a ghetto.

Its sunday morning now, raining, santa cruz is a giant, grey puddle. Dash would love this, and the hotel had a waffle maker, even better. Just did a fun interview with Betsy McNair on KZSC, and we’re off to KPIG to play live and then 2 shows at Don Quixote and then the long drive home listening to Alan Watts if the boys will let me. Actually, to my surprise, Ed said at 3 am, “this guys got some interesting things to say, even though I don’t agree with allot of it.” That’s what I’m talking about!

Sophie B.

Hello dear friends, I was standing in front of a monument the other day with my family and read of the World War One soldiers, “they gave the supreme gift of themselves”. It was a bright, crisp Massachussettes morning, a day after Dashiell’s birthday, and the immense truth of that ability, that commitment, is still having an impact on me. I am experiencing giving the gift of myself on different levels now, because life has gotten so very challenging for people close to me, and also because I have a child for whom I need to be as present and unselfish as possible. Giving your life is so much different than losing your life. A female writer told me during a dinner at Norman Mailer’s house recently that she wished she didn’t have children because she lost her chance of being an artist, and I have to say I feel I’m gaining the depth to be a bigger artist.

First of all I’m gaining faith. To let someone grow and thrive in their own time and space you have to trust in them, in their divinity, in their purpose. Even and especially if I am nervous about other people influencing him away from himself, I remind my heart that he’s as safe as he can be at the moment, as safe as any of us usually are, and that he has his own creative destiny. It’s an in the moment dialogue I have with myself often because I am the one responsible for his well being, and yet, I don’t want to be over bearing in my concern, I love my freedom, too, and I want him to love his. My favorite thing as a mother is watching him play fifteen or twenty feet away, discovering his world, which is unique from everyone’s, and feeling content to be in the same universe. I’m never conscious of giving to him, and that’s the way I would like it to be with everyone.

But it isn’t, and that is something I’m learning about. These hard times seem to be getting harder for most of us, and neighbors will need each other more, strangers may become buddies, and friends may turn their heads. I read and I listen and I watch and I am dubious about the near future of this country. For me, this is a time in history where the individual needs to risk going against the tide of the times, needs to balk at the group and say what’s heavy on your heart, what’s making your soul shutter. It’s time to give the gift of your self, not in dying, but in expression.

My feelings, my vantage point, are in my new cycle of songs coming out, in my paintings, but I don’t feel right about elaborating on them now, on the internet. Not because I wont take a risk, but because a risk at the wrong time is foolish, and at the right time is brave. On Norman Maler’s desk, in his writing room up in the attic where he worked ten hours a day, was, amoung his research, a paper with a paragraph that could freeze your blood. But what did actually give me chills was the note he hand wrote next to it. No one that night noticed it but me, as they ogled at every materiel detail of his life. I showed it to Gigi and she showed it to the host, who shrugged and said, “I cant believe I’ve been up here so many times and never read that.”

This is what I’m saying, we must stop being blind to the writing on the wall. We, as a people, are going to be faced with losing ourselves, or giving ourselves, and it wont be supreme unless we believe, truly believe, in what we are doing it for. So if you don’t believe in something, start expressing what you do believe in. I can’t wait to share my new work with you.

Sophie B.

Hello August buddies, here I am taking the last of a Carmel moment, driving back into hotsville along the dark green and blue alizarin route 1. The streets were lined with gems on wheels, cars as works of art from eras of adventure and elegance. A person had to be a real driver, experience the road in its bareness, the “learning curve” was so much steeper. I love the Nash Healy ‘53, oh what a red, what a dash board.

When new machines advertized as the cutting edge because they stop for you, eat for you, and sleep for you I wretch because its the death of beauty, the end of passion, the seal on the coffin of individuality. Just get in and follow a gps and you won’t get hurt cause your car will protect you and you’ll always bable to be tracked with that damn chip.

For me, wealth is the freedom to choose. Are we loosing that simple gift in this country, on this planet? I suppose that, too, is a choice. It is a profound power, independence, to be able to make decisions that define your life, that become your life. To have the confidence to know what is best for yourself. Creativity is constantly making choices, and it is so empowering to art, yet in life, why do people want to let go of the wheel?

I would like to invite you to 2 special shows, in Philly and New Hope. These are Darius Holbert’s last crossing with me. You all know what a fine musician he is, but more than that, I have never played with someone who has surprised me, enchanted me and supported me more on stage. I will miss him terribly. Please come and bring your friends for our last great moments together. The album is getting closer to pulling into port everyday, it is on the sea sky horizon.

I hope I see you there! Sophie

Hello new friends and old, I’m seriously in love. Blowing rock blew me away, the audience, the pungent grass, the mists like dragons’ breath and the succulent rain. And Bonnie and Jamie, who hosted us and took such excellent care of us at Westglow, and Missy, what fine and generous people, I really would like to import my life to the blue mountains right now.

I got caught in the rain on a dirt road and I felt as alive or more than when I was a child alone in a summer storm. How strange and mysterious life is; I didn’t want to leave home for this short tour, and now it is as if the flights and roads and shows were a route taking me to Blowing Rock.

My 4th was very soulful, we performed and then Bonnie DJ’d an emotional exposition of fire works. It started with our hands over our hearts facing the American flag and singing the national anthem on the portico that overlooked the ravishing dark blue mountains, and ended with Judy Garland singing “somewhere over the rainbow”. In between was Ray Charles singing America The Beautiful, Annie Lenox with American Prayer, Simon and Garfunkle’s “I’ve come to Look for America, which affected me the most, and some artists with patriotic songs I hadn’t heard but really loved. When someone puts it all together like that it is as if I’m in a great production of a play I adore, the point just before the last act ends. I realize things and I say, “how could I have not seen this before?” It’s a jump in awareness and I feel humbled by the work and vision of people around me I either hadn’t known or simply hadn’t recognized.

I’m swimming in a warm pool of emotions, like the one at Westglow, wondering how to paint what I feel, in words, chords and colour.

Bye, Sophie

We had a wonderful show last night with Edwin McCain. Among the many lovely humans there were two women, Fran and Kelly, and when I started to play Fran apparently said to Kelly, “she sounds like Sophie B.
Hawkins” and then 3 songs later I said my name, that’s deep in this world of sound bombs.

It is so fun to play for an audience that doesn’t come for me, even when I offend people for being myself. Although I find more that people discover new aspects within their own context; for instance Maria and Cesar like my “Christian undertones”, which is not schooled, or sought after, it just flows through as a truth of my existence.

North Carolina is billowing with impending rain, the leaves are white side up, the clouds are folding into the sky like pillows into twisted sheets. Wow, look at all this farmland, yellow daffodils and cops. Last time I played here it was for Hillary Clinton, that was sure a different time, sometime I’ll discuss what has happened between then and now, or perhaps I won’t have to. Perhaps its in the new album, perhaps its in the air, I’ve been having fascinating conversations with people coming to the show, people I haven’t known and yet we have similar trajectories to our thoughts. All I can say is; I felt isolated and now I feel part of a movement, like a buffalo who found her heard. Gotta a show in blowing rock tonight, Aaron Copeland is on the radio and it’s all wide open.

Sophie

Hello there, we’re leaving Savannah, Georgia listening to Sinatra on the radio in the blaring heat. History is everywhere on this American holiday weekend. Last night we listened to Lincoln’s Gettysburg address, and Kate Hepburn playing the Aaron Copeland Lincoln piece. Now “Young At Heart” is playing, how true!!!!! What great lyrics, all the self help books can’t conquer this simply wonderful feeling of happy expectation.

On the Road

Now Mel Torme is scatting about Sweet Georgia Brown’s big feet! So neat. I met some great kids last night in South Carolina, I’d never been there before, what a treat. Alligators, too. And Edwin McCain is stupendous, and nice, I feel specially lucky to be on his stage.

There are allot of rebels out here, I love the rebels, its high time for the thinkers whose thoughts are creating a disturbance in the stagnant pool of power bloated muck monsters. Washington, Wall Street, I’d trade you all for a Georgia peach in a hot, southern second.

Now its Peggy Lee, oh please! The folks who like to be called what they have always been called-the folks who live on the hill..

I’ll see some of you tonight, Sophie