Down by the Sea by Barbara Quinn

When the weather is not too hot, or too cold, I love taking a long walk along the shore. I travel from my place in Bradley Beach north to Asbury Park and then back again. It’s about three miles roundtrip and no matter how many times I walk that walk I enjoy it. Much of the pleasure has to do not only with what passes before my eyes, but with what passes beneath my feet. I am grateful for the physical wooden structure of the boardwalk.

In particular, I like the old wooden boardwalk of Ocean Grove. It’s wobbly, and needs repair, but the feel of those old boards beneath my feet is a joy. The wood gives a natural spring to your step. It’s so easy on the joints. I do need to be careful of holes and raised boards while walking. But that’s fine with me. That soft feel is worth the effort. In summer the boards swell. Now with the cool fall air there are small gaps between them and they emit a different sound when your feet hit them. In winter the brittle boards snap beneath your feet and have much less give to them. Any time of year, when a bike rolls over the boards, an unmistakable sound rumbles toward you. The boardwalk becomes a giant xylophone with two notes.

Some parts of the boardwalk have new man-made material. It’s a pleasant gray color, plastic, too uniform for my taste. And it feels different when you tread on it. There’s no give. It warps in odd ways. Other places, like Bradley Beach, have installed stone pavers along the shore, in place of the old wood. The stones look pretty but boy are they hard on your feet and legs.

There’s an older gentleman in Ocean Grove whose job it is to mark dangerous boards for future repair. He carries a bucket with red paint, and a brush, and he circles the areas that are sticking up, holes, the nails that jut out too far. He walks along slowly studying the boards. What a nice job. And he seems well-suited and dedicated as he thoughtfully makes his way along.

In some communities they are using ipe, a Brazilian wood that is working out well but causing controversy since it comes from the rainforest and needs to be certified to eliminate protests over its use. Ipe is much nicer than the man-made plastic boards, and lasts about three times as long as yellow pine boards. I’m glad they came up with a wooden solution that will enable the boardwalks to survive for future generations. Go walk the boards. You’ll come back a better person for it. Guaranteed!

Gratitude is Blowin' in the Wind by Barbara Quinn

Bob Dylan played Asbury Park’s Convention Hall this past week, and I was lucky to see this national treasure perform. Convention Hall is a small venue that holds 6000: a couple of thousand in seats, and a few thousand more standing on the floor. It’s where Springsteen often rehearses for his tours. (In fact, I heard that Bruce and his wife Patty Scialfa were there watching, and so was Patti Smith.) Even with a muddy sound system, the concert was still an amazing exploration of Dylan and his music.

Bob’s in his sixties, but he’s still rocking hard. His band was tight and enjoying themselves. Dylan was covered in a long frock coat, with a huge hat pulled down on his head. It was all about the music for him, not about the fans or audience. He stood sideways at his keyboard, not facing the crowd, legs spread, leaning into the instrument. Besides keyboard he played sonorous harmonica. After a few songs he faced the crowd and gave a small wave, and one time a curtsey.

He may be best known for his folk tunes, but at heart he's a rocker. He started out playing rock, moved to folk, plugged in at the Newport Jazz Festival, and has never looked back. His seventeen song set was hard rock, with some jazzy spots, and not not one folk tune in the mix. There were a number of new songs. The old standards have gone through the musical blender of his brain and have come out in completely new versions. It’s as if he’s bored with his old stuff and won’t play anything nostalgic. I can understand that. He wants to live in the present, wants to play what’s calling to him now, not what used to call to him.

So It Ain’t Me Babe, and Tangled Up in Blue were strangely old and new at the same time. For an encore there was Like a Rolling Stone, Thunder on the Mountain, and an almost unrecognizable Blowin’ in the Wind. How can you not feel great hearing him do those songs?

Sure many of them were not what they used to be. But neither are any of us. Thanks, Bob. I’m grateful for you and your music. Keep on rockin’!

The Pony by Barbara Quinn

Rock and roll is alive and well on the Jersey Shore. In Asbury Park, The Stone Pony still hosts some of the finest music being played. I am fortunate to be walking distance from this venerable rock hall for many consider The Pony to be the greatest rock hall ever. It’s been going strong since the seventies and fans continue to make the pilgrimage to the bleak brick building that holds the heart of rock ‘n roll.

The Pony is a living rock museum. It’s filled with signed guitars hanging on the walls, including one from Springsteen. The posters of the venerable musicians who’ve played cover the walls, tickets and flyers sit under the glass of the small tables. The place is a dark cavern with multiple bars and every age of patron, all with the same thing in mind: to hear the best play.

I went to a Southside Johnny concert at the Pony a few days back. Southside’s concerts are a tradition around the 4th of July. The band plays on the outdoor summer stage. Behind the crowd are the Asbury Park boardwalk, and the crashing ocean whose cool breeze blows over the shoulder to shoulder fans while night slowly descends. The grills are cooking the famed Windmill hot dogs and the bars are serving up every type of drink. People are smiling and swaying to the music. It’s an infectious, upbeat atmosphere.

Before the concert Southside Johnny appeared at the gallery across the street where he autographed memorabilia. I bought a CD, got his autograph, shook his hand and have added the disc to my collection, happy to have met one of the originators of SOAP: the Sound of Asbury Park.

Long live The Stone Pony!

I Hear Music by Barbara Quinn

I’m a fan of many types of music. I listen to Blues, Rock and Roll, Classical, and Opera at different times for different reasons. Chopin’s Nocturnes are a sure way to spark creativity . Bruce Springsteen, and Bob Dylan, never fail to put me in a better mood when I head my car to the shore. Opera can bring me to tears and all types of music can be downright orgasmic. Music and I have an intense relationship.

I spend a good deal of time in Asbury Park, NJ, which is a short walk from my place in Bradley Beach. This area is the home of the "Jersey Shore Sound" whose most famous practitioners include Bruce Springsteen, Southside Johnny, Little Steven, and Bon Jovi. The Jersey Shore Sound has been described as dance music with lyrics that have a sense of being an underdog. Other flag bearers for the sound include Lance Larson, Gary US Bonds, and John Eddie who often perform in and around Asbury Park. Wherever you go in this area of Monmouth County, music plays. The venues range from The Stone Pony to the smallest coffee shops which cram in a musician or two. Outside on the street corners, there are doo-wop performers. Even in winter you’ll hear people practicing in the alley in Ocean Grove, their voices echoing off the buildings. Antique shops sell CD’s of local performers such as Meat n’ More, a group named after a local meat market on Main Street in Asbury. Giamano’s, a fine Italian spot in Bradley Beach, has an upstairs bar area the size of a living room where musicians perform on weekends.On Monday nights in the summer Bradley Beach hosts opera at their beachside pavilion on the boardwalk. The ocean crashes behind you and the gulls caw overhead adding to the score. Any time of year, when I walk along the boardwalk it’s not unusual to find someone facing the ocean playing an instrument; one fellow in a kilt plays the bagpipes, another sits in his car with a flute. I love hearing the melodies that are coaxed out of them by the sea.

Sweet, sweet music is a healer, an energizer, a way to soothe nerves. I’m grateful to all who send their sounds out into the air and enhance the soundtrack of my life. Play on!