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My musical world has been crumbling around me lately. Yours too, I’m sure. The deaths of Davy Jones and Levon Helm had far more of an impact than I would ever imagine. Openly crying on my laptop as I read the news and heard the many tributes. The deaths of music & TV legends Dick Clark  and Don Cornelius was tragic news to me and the news of The Flying Burrito Brothers’ sweet bass player Chris Ethridge was almost too much to bear.  We know that Glen Campbell is not doing well and David Bowie is fighting lung cancer. It really is too much. And then I woke up to my Facebook feed today and read the various tributes from my friends about MCA and again, I cried.

I am the MTV generation. I was there every day after school in 7th grade when The Buggles’ “Video Killed The Radio Star”, Golden Earring’s “Twilight Zone” and Red Rider’s “Lunatic Fringe” were played, repeatedly. It was the after school soundtrack for those kids who were now too old to watch the After School Specials. Three years later in 1986 I have the summer of my life. My mom goes to Russia for a month, I invite all my prep school friends over for a month long party and there is a cavalcade of beer, boys, girls, debauchery (God knows what happened in the various bedrooms), endless rounds of “Quarters” and “Suck and Blow” and AC/DC, Pink Floyd & Zeppelin get us through the trauma of having cops called on us daily and the indignant resignation of my mother’s housekeeper! We didn’t have to Fight for our Right to Party. We just did.

Back to school that fall for our final year of high school and MTV introduces us to that ridiculous video for the song of the same name and it changed the face of music forever. It was a stupid song, sophomoric lyrics and a dumb chorus… but to this day I know every single word. It was angry and silly and pop-py all at the same time. “No Sleep Til Brooklyn” or “Brass Monkey” was probably the second video release from “License To Ill” and that was enough for me to buy that cassette- that still remains in my old bedroom at my Mom’s house. I think I even have Quinn’s too. From that album forward The Beastie Boys would be intertwined with amazing moments in my life. This album would follow me to junior college, to summer school courses down in Long Beach and my sophomore year spent in the south of France.

The groundbreaking “Paul’s Boutique” is released in 1989 during my last two years at UCLA. I meet my best friend Carol through sorority. We used “Hey Ladies!” and “Shake Your Rump” during our Rush slideshow and that album followed us through frat parties, shots, date parties, Spring Break, Mazatlan trips, loss of virginity of various friends, boyfriends, breakups. After graduation Carol and I move into a small apartment in Marina Del Rey and “Check Your Head” is released in 1992- released the same month of the LA riots. All of Los Angeles shut down. No school. No work. Everyone was immobilized. Water, bread and milk were the first items that flew off the grocery store shelves and, after three days of continuous horrific coverage of a city gone mad, we had to escape by jumping into our apartment complex pool. We lived in this small pocket of town closed off to the tragedy occurring not but 10 miles from us. People smoked pot, had sex, drank, jacuzzi’d. We did anything to release. “Check Your Head” was the official soundtrack. We drowned ourselves in that album.

Hunter, T-Bone & Freeway were three skate rats we were hanging with in Venice at the time. All good upperclass rich white guys who surfed, skated and ran raucous all over town. We would beach it by day. Party at night. Hunter introduced himself to me by pushing a dude I was dancing with out of the way. Ha. I loved that at the time. He knew what he wanted. He went after it. And got it. He called me Funky Jen after the song “Funky Boss“. The name stuck. The boys just ended up calling me Funky or FJ. Country crooner and old friend Mike Stinson (who was a rock drummer at the time) knew these dudes and he only knew me as “Funky”. To this day he still calls me “Funky” in his slow, sweet drawl.  Carol and I would drive to Manhattan beach to barhop and we would cry with laughter on Mike D’s delivery on “Pass The Mic“. “Gratitude” still means something to me. I always said of all albums in the world- including The Beatles, Stones, Zeppelin, Stevie Wonder, etc- that this album, “Check Your Head”, would be the one I would take to a deserted island if I only had one to choose from. It means that much to me.

As a fan, a music lover and hopeful songwriter I still ask myself “How did they DOOO that?!” What goes on in the creative writing process for these three dudes to get these lush, layered masterpieces. Every song has classic rock samples, personal voicemail recordings, very sharp-tongued quick rap, they play their own instruments and I’m having problems just putting together verse/chorus/bridge/verse/chorus. These three New York punk rock rappers were visionaries, founding fathers, groundbreakers.  I’m not sure how each song came together but whatever they did, they did it beautifully.

Just like the Monkees and The Beatles before them you go through phases of your favorite. You start out with the “cute” one: Paul/Davy/Ad-Rock. Then  the adorable ones: George/Mickey/Mike D. Then you move to the “smart” one, the one with soul. The John Lennon’s of the band, the Mike Nesmith’s of the band. Adam Yauch was that man. He was the soul of  The Beastie Boys. He very quickly (while we we still in our late 20′s) turned from sexist drunk party boy into peaceful activist. And the music followed suit. Now they were experimenting with jazz, old blues, soul, Tibetan monks. He created awareness where it was needed. Was still fighting for what he believed in and overall just wanted to make the world a better place. A quiet tiger.

Forty-seven is way too young to die. Cancer is a horrible way to die. Of course the one person I wanted to call today was Carol. This music was “our” life together. No other musician or band- besides Stevie Wonder- represented our relationship as well. The Beastie Boys were always a part of us. She was “crafty”. I was “on it”- both Beastie Boys songs. And as of today, that would end. The Beastie Boys will never be The Beastie Boys as we know them. This band is over. Each alone is a great talent but one without the other is just unthinkable. But I couldn’t call Carol. Carol died four years ago of breast cancer. So I know what it is like to lose someone too young and I know what it is like to lose someone to cancer. When I actually did meet Stevie Wonder last year the only thing that ran through my mind was riding around in Carol’s VW Rabbit convertible in the blossom of our golden youth screaming Mike D’s line: “Ya think we’ll ever meet Stevie?!” Ad-Rock and MCA both assuringly rap back “One of these days, D”. I knew Carol was looking down at me at that moment.

Tributes all over Facebook and Twitter today have been astounding- the articles, essays, video tributes, celeb tweets, The Roots on Jimmy Fallon playing a B-Boys song at every commercial break. Again, it’s almost too much. I feel like leaving flowers at the old G-Son Studios in Atwater where so much of their genius was hatched. I played Check Your Head repeatedly. I couldn’t call Carol so I wrote this. There is no bandaid to put over this dam of emotion so I again turn to music, the music that defined me:

I’ve been through many times
In which I thought I might lose it
The only thing that saved me
Has always been music
We’ve got our own studio that’s under the G
It’s no question life’s been good to me
‘Cause life ain’t nothing but a good groove
A good mix tape to put you in the right mood…

I called my girl Eva Crawford at The Axis Of Eva to take this design and run with it. The fonts. The colors. The band name! I love it.

Shoulda Been My Lover

Outta Sight Outta Mind

6:00 PM

FREE!

ALL AGES!

Photo Credit: unknown

Here are a few of my choices:
Everybody needs a cute little floral number! Pair this with a cowboy hats & boots. Done. One Clothing.

I love wearing long skirts over boots, be it wellies or otherwise. I love this straight skirt by Studio M. (Macy’s). It has an adorable tiers so it’s not just a boring black skirt. Pair it with the angel sleeve shirt by American Rag and you’re good to go. Day to night!

A little Seattle. A little Glastonbury. A denim-colored t-shirt dress by Big Star bought this to wear with wellies. Did I mention it has a wolf in a dreamcatcher? How awesome is that?!

This is a sweet, nude colored above the knee number from Calvin Klein. It would be too much at SXSW with wedges or mules but again, the boot makes all the difference.

I bought another Calvin Klein dress that I love, love, love. A long black dress with a lattice pattern across the bustline. Lays perfectly. Great for travel.

In case I have to pull out my old silver trench (with hoodie) I will pair with this long nude Calvin Klein number. My Hi-lo outfit.

This number is really cute on. Half hipster/half fairy. Adorable with stockings & boots. Style & Co.

Ok, I think I’m ready to rock in my frocks!

You can see more here.

Photo Credit: Unknown

I woke up this morning ready to conquer the world! Take on a new challenge! Ask a guy to marry me! Do something different! Leap over this leap day! Instead all I did was cry. I suppose it was a Twitter message that I first glanced at- and you think to yourself, “this can’t be true, must be a hoax”. Dead at 66. Not possible. But then I logged into Facebook and saw the videos, the pictures, the tributes- and I just cried. And couldn’t stop crying.

I had to drop my Mom off at Curves. Tears fell as she exited the car. I cashed a check at the bank with my eyes red and swollen. I got coffee and a muffin at the Coffee Bean. I sat outside at a table for a minute but the tears wouldn’t stop. No one had noticed or asked. No one was glued to a TV set or talking about it on the boulevard. There were no gatherings a la Michael Jackson or radio DJ acknowledgements a la Whitney Houston so I was in this by myself. So I had to go back into my car, just sat with myself and I just let the tears flow.

Davy Jones, by all measures, was not my favorite singer, not even my favorite Monkee so I had to get a grip and ask myself “WHY are you having this reaction?! You look like a crazy person right now!” and I think my friend Probyn summed it up best. “The passing of Davy Jones is really getting to me — part of my childhood is gone forever now, the Monkees TV show (which I never missed an episode of) made them bigger than the Beatles with my age group. The Beatles were always a bit removed, almost too smart for the room and from distant England to boot. Whereas the Monkees were regular guys (albeit goofs), accessible like your big brother, I even saw the Monkeemobile on the street once (‘we may be coming to your town’– they did!).”

I could get Paul McCartney on the back of my Beatles 65′ album. I could play it til the grooves wore out. I could stare at the album cover all day but with TELEVISION I could have the Monkees in my living room everyday! And like Paul, Davy was the “cute” one. When you’re four or five you choose the least threatening male. You choose the boys who look like girls. This subconscious attraction works all the way into your pre-teen and teen years. The Donny Osmonds, Shaun Cassidys, C. Thomas Howells, Jonas Brothers, Justin Biebers of the world- all adorable sweet boys who are completely harmless in the eyes of a girl. No muscle, brawn, hair or trace of testosterone- nothing manly. We become attracted to that later in life. The brain too. For every girl who started on Paul and then moved on and grew into John (the “smart” one), there was the similar migration from Davy to Mike.

Davy was my entire generation‘s first crush. He was cute and funny. He played the tambourine, was the song and dance man, always got the girl and the other guys in the band were rooting him on and helping him get the girl! He had stars in his eyes and we did too. Everyday on KTTV here in LA I could watch their madcap romps. Their colorful kaleidoscope technicolor beach party complete with bathtubs in the street and bedknobs and broomsticks. For the Krofft generation, this was it! It was Banana Splits with a cute boy band instead of furry creatures. I remember buying the “Monkees Greatest Hits” and loving “Daydream Believer” and “Last Train To Clarksville”, boppy teen tunes with a great beat and a lot of tambo. I HATED “Randy Scouse Git”, “Listen To The Band” and “Zilch”. I was six or seven. I didn’t get it. Yet. I was still Davy’s girl. Not yet grown into Mike’s. (My curly haired dashiki-wearing Micky phase would come even later).

I can’t really say anymore to this than that. He was my first crush. WAY too young to die. We turn to those who we think would feel this the most along with us- his castmates and friends from oh so many decades ago. Micky’s tribute was honest shock & raw emotion, Peter had a sweet, serene reflection and Mike (Zen master Yoda that he is) said it best: “That David has stepped beyond my view causes me the sadness that it does many of you. I will miss him, but I won’t abandon him to mortality. I will think of him as existing within the animating life that insures existence. I will think of him and his family with that gentle regard in spite of all the contrary appearances on the mortal plane.

David’s spirit and soul live well in my heart, among all the lovely people, who remember with me the good times, and the healing times, that were created for so many, including us.

I have fond memories. I wish him safe travels.”

Photographer credit: Unknown

‎’Steve Marriott is one of those rare singers who, when you first hear him, instantly make you feel like a drought in your life has ended. He was his own meter, out there trying to go over the top with every number. Simply an amazing talent, tethered by nothing.’ — Bob Dylan