By Emma Silvers
By Gary Moskowitz
By Alee Karim
By Ian S. Port
By Ian S. Port
By Derek Opperman
By Emma Silvers
By Alee Karim
"The secret of writing is in the rhythm of urgency," noted Jack Kerouac. No Bay Area songwriter understands that principle better than Sonny Smith. His peculiar lyrics pour out in a cascade of images, conjuring crazy characters such as Officer Scalletti, who was "killed by an iron hurled by the lover of his wife/ Who bleached her hair and pierced her tongue for the funeral"; darling, dipsomaniac Molly, "swinging a neon series Louisville Slugger/ Bat chin just a little bit higher than a rave rat's/ Chance of pulling up his pants"; and Frank, who chased Molly to Dublin but preached "this whole boy meets girl/ Boy gets girl/ Boy loses girl/ Boy spends all his money chasing girl around the world is overrated."
The amazing thing is that Smith writes the songs almost as quickly as he raps them at local clubs and bars. "It's like having to tell somebody about these things that happened," he says of his songs. "You're just telling somebody really fast, like a little kid telling his mom, and you can't even get it all out, you can't possibly do it all justice." Combining these urgent raps with an authentic funk/blues beat, Smith's music is as natural sounding as it is unique.
"I grew up around old-time music," says Smith, who was raised in Fairfax, 20 miles north of San Francisco. "That's what my dad and all his friends played. It's what bluegrass and country came out of -- fiddle, mandolin, banjo, sort of Irish jigs. ... I think that old-time music has a boom-chick-boom rhythm that I sort of inherited."
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Sample of Sonny Smith's "Pass the Wine," from the CD Who's the Monster...You or Me?. Click the "play" icon in the control console below.
Yet in high school Smith eschewed that inherited music for Rush and AC/DC cover bands. It wasn't until he went to college that his musical taste began to come full circle. "I was living in Colorado in this little town and didn't really know what to do. I just sort of gravitated towards ... playing this piano in this church, just started learning songs like blues -- blues is the easiest thing to play, right?
"Up till then I had noodled on guitar, like high school noodling, but it's not the same," he continues. "To learn to play a song all the way through for people: That I learned on piano."
Smith eventually landed his first gig at a coffee shop, accompanying a woman who sang hits by Jackson Browne and the Eagles. After he moved to a ranch outside Denver at age 20, he began writing simple country tunes, some of which he still plays today. He then moved to downtown Denver in 1994 and met many of the characters who inspired his songs.
"Officer Scalletti was based on this guy named Officer Dave," he says. "Molly was a real girl that I knew who was always going to the bar and had this wild social life. Frank was a guy I knew from those times. [He] had a '65 Chevy, liked to drive like a madman through the alleys and crash into trash cans and keep a bottle of whiskey in the glove box."
But Smith didn't start writing songs about these people right away; first he took off to Central America with romantic notions of traveling and writing plays. "I had this big vision that I would go to Panama and hike through the Darien Gap, go down to Ecuador like some Indiana Jones thing," he says. "But I got to the Caribbean, [and] there were hammocks, beaches, and people not doing anything, and I ended up staying there for almost a year."
While he lived on a communal farm, occasionally playing guitar for what he says were "pagan orgy" parties, Smith tried to turn his Denver experiences into plays. But then one day he heard a song by South Central L.A. hip hop group Pharcyde called "Other Fishes." "Some guy had it on a mix tape," he says, "and I was sitting there listening to it in the middle of the jungle, and I liked it, it worked, so I tried to write all these songs." In combining fast-talking, rhapsodic lyrics informed by his experiences with the bluesy rhythms he'd been honing for years, Smith stumbled upon a fresh musical path.
"A lot of the songs were actually failed screenplays," he says. "That's why they have so many characters in them. They are like screenplays I couldn't make come alive in a way. ... For example, "Pass the Wine' has so many characters and you could almost say that first verse is like the synopsis of the play. But it works way better as a poem than I ever could've written it as a play." Even with all the details he fits into his songs, Smith says he's still exasperated with those he must forsake: "It's frustrating because you want to be able to explain to someone what happened, and you can't do it justice all in one piece, so it just trickles out in these moments here and there."
Virgil Shaw, lead singer of the band Dieselhed and fellow Fairfax native, says it's Smith's uncanny ability to know what to omit that makes him such a great songwriter.