Patti Smith
The singer on performing with her kids, what William Burroughs taught her, the perfect slice of pizza and why ‘Horses’ endures
What were your favorite books as a child?
An early favorite was Pinocchio — not the Disney version, Collodi’s Pinocchio. And I still have my battered copy of A Child’s Garden of Verses and Uncle Wiggily. And Little Women!
What do you think it is about Little Women and Jo March that every generation seems to fall in love with?
Well, for me, I saw myself in her; she was sort of an awkward tomboy who climbed
trees and read books and wrote. I grew up in the Fifties, and gender was very defined. I felt very estranged from the expectations of my gender, and then I met Jo and she was much like me. It was an epiphany. She was responsible and she was loving toward her family, but she was also herself and she didn’t bend to any expectations of how she should dress or behave.
That idea seems a lot more accepted today.
If you look at the back of Horses, which I wrote in 1975, that was defying labels. It says “Beyond Gender” on [the album sleeve]. I didn’t want to be identified in terms of gender; I wanted to be identified as an artist.
You’ve performed Horses in full recently. Why does that LP endure for you?
Horses never even got a gold record, right? It was really the people that keep that record alive. I’ve performed Horses in a field in Poland for, like, 20,000 kids under 25 who knew all the words, and I find that so inspiring and touching. I don’t do records for myself; I do them for other people, and if they want to hear something — if I still can sing it or still can relate to it — I’ll do it. And also, I’m always hoping if I see somebody I really like, they’ll do the song that I like. I want to hear Neil Young’s old songs when I see him. So if people want to hear “Because the Night” for the 2,000th time, I’ll give it to them as long as I can give it to them with real enthusiasm. I am not going to fake it. If I can really access the original impulse that drove me to write it,
I’ll sing it.
What’s the best advice you ever got?
When I was quite young, like in 1970, 1971, I was offered a lot of money, first to do a film and then to do a record, but it was someone else’s vision of how they wanted to shape me. I didn’t have any money; I was working in a bookstore. And I sat and talked to William Burroughs about it, and he said, “The best thing as an artist you can do is keep your name clean.” That became my own private mantra.
You’re very closely associated with the New York of the Seventies. What do you miss most about that time?
Well, I miss the economic structure. And I also miss some of our former architecture. And I miss pizza! Because pizza used to be 25 cents a slice and it was all-natural ingredients, everywhere you went, and it was awesome pizza. Now, it’s like $4 a slice and it doesn’t even feel real. I know that’s a small thing, but it’s indicative of many other things.
How has being a mother affected your work?
As a young artist, you become the center of the universe in a certain way: You’re very . . . not conceited, but self-concerned. It’s just part of the hubris of being an artist. And once you have a family, you realize you’re not the center of the universe. So that was a good lesson to learn. Because I still was able to do my work — I just had
to be more disciplined.
You often perform with your children. What’s that like?
I like it — we’re a family. We all have professional responsibilities, but
I’m still their mom, you know, and they’re my kids, and sometimes it’s funny and sometimes it’s very comforting. I always told them, “Don’t worry if you mess up or if I mess up — just do the best you can and stay in communication.” I also love working with them because both of them have aspects of their father [former MC5 guitarist Fred “Sonic” Smith], and he was a great musician. They both magnify him. My son has guitar tones that sound just like his father, and my daughter has a composing manner on piano so much like her father, and I really feel his presence with us when we’re all playing together.
Is death something you fear?
No, I don’t fear it. I mean, I’d like to live a really long time because I have lots of work to do. I want to see my children as they continue to grow, and I have so many ideas. So I’m just hoping that if I take care of myself, I’ll have a good amount of time to do these things. I’ve never really had any vice problems. My only addiction was to love and coffee. You don’t have to worry about me.
JERRY PORTWOOD