THE MUSE
Several Sundays ago, I cruised by People's Park in Berkeley. Something
was happening there. What it was, wasn't exactly clear the grass and, like, took in the scene for awhile.
The mellow scent of herb wafted gently in the cool Spring breeze,
winding through the colorful bead-bedecked gray-haired ponytail hard-core
Berkeley hippie crowd Berkeley homeless, younger hippie wanna be's, Telegraph street kids with
mean dogs, loud leftist poets, casual gawkers like me, and that same
happy group of naked people I see at every similar Berkeley gathering.
The people were speaking their minds (again) at People's Park that
day. They were celebrating thirty years of civil disobedience, peace,
love, marijuana, and the continuing righteous struggle against the cops
and UC Regents.
The general creative logic of the speeches, punctuated by an
occasional, "Right on," and "You said it, man," went along the lines of:
"Who are the cops or the UC, or anyone for that matter, to think anyone
has a right to say they 'own' People's Park?" I noticed a heavy cloud of nostalgia permeating the gathering.
Surprise! The event organizers were trying to make the case that nothing
much had changed in thirty years. But really, they were all just matching
the energy from a picture of the past. It didn't resonate with the
present at all, but for me, that's what made the whole event so sweetly
bizarre and interesting.
One presenter did attempt to step out of the past-time mold. He rapped
about the Kosovo situation. "They shouldn't be dropping bombs on
Yugoslavia, they should be dropping joints on them, man," he shouted into
the mike. Mild cheers from the crowd.
Then, from out of the blue, as I sat listening and watching with the
sun warming my face, an unexpected wave of sentimentality suddenly hit my
fourth chakra (heart chakra). Part of me yearned to leap and frolic with
the others, to tear my clothes off and hug all the other naked people, to
sign every pot petition circulating the crowd. To join my brothers and
sisters up on stage and start spouting People's Park poetry!
But (thank goodness) my inhibitions were not to be set free that day.
Moments later, something else happening farther down the block caught my
eye, and I took leave before seriously embarrassing myself.
CHEMYSTRY SET
A band was playing outside Amoeba Records, on the corner of Haste and
Telegraph. There were five of them, unplugged, playing upbeat, rhythmic,
jammin' funky, happy sounding music. Finally, here was the new creative,
colorful and refreshing vibe missing at the Park! Here were some 90's
voices speaking their minds.
I found out later, after talking to Set member Sven Eberlein (guitars,
vocals), that Chemystry Set first began experimenting several years ago
at a place called the Hayward House in the Hayward Hills. Their goal was,
and still is, to gather artists, writers, musicians and other kindred
spirits together to inspire each other and create through the power of
shared expression.
The songs on their CD, Life in the Underground, are about searching
for meaning, exploring different paths, moving together, survival,
transformation and community. Same thing as the People's Park crowd but
with a present time energy.
It seems to me they have the concept that the present world order has
raised them in darkness, has forced them underground. But, by banding
together and nurturing their individual seeds of creativity, they are now
ready to germinate and grow into the light of something different.
Chemystry Set is very likable, not only because they play good tunes,
but because they put out a sincere vibration of trust in each other and
in the possibility for human understanding and compassion. Check them out!
CHEMYSTRY SET
by Kirstin Miller
"Because, hey, the Indians were here first, right?"