Apples and Apples There is no Apples and Apples, at least when it comes to talent and personality. We each come to this life with a gift, a talent, a trait or traits that are absolutely singular in all of time and space. All of eternity if you want to go that far too. That said, it should make comparisons a lot easier, for there simply are none. We can’t be Bob Dylan or Bruce Springsteen no matter how hard we try, but each of us carries with us this wonderful golden gift that, if discovered and nurtured, can and will literally change the world, and yes I mean for the better. For those of us who know who they are most certainly, and know exactly what their gift is, and exactly how to use it to our best advantage I say; good for you, go ahead! This article is written for those who may be a little fuzzy on the issue, and specifically those who are drawn towards creating and/or performing music, though the gifts I speak of are not limited to the entertainment field. No, the gift or gifts that come with each life are of every kind, even some as yet undiscovered, or more appropriately, as yet unplumbed. The good news is that this idea frees us of meaningless and derogatory comparisons, to others who may or may not look or sound close to how we look or sound. When starting out in any field, first there is inspiration. Someone or something inspires us to want to create music. All of us study and emulate our heroes and mentors, inspirations, idols, etc. This is not only okay, but really preferable to reinventing the wheel over and over. As we digest the persona of our heroes, we find their strengths, and also their weaknesses. Our psyches perceive these things, catalog them, and accept or reject their influence accordingly. After a time, we get to the point where our hearts and minds have fully integrated the positive aspects (for us) of let’s say a Bob Dylan (this may take some time, don’t rush yourself, and also Bob is still writing and shows no sign of slowing down as yet). Notice the Bob Dylan traits in your voice, in your writing, in your playing, and then notice that as time goes by, it gets more comfortable, then seems to fade to the background as your own gift comes forward to take it one step further, then another. I grew up in San Francisco in the 60’s. Subsequently, I was exposed to a brilliant mix of musical colors, styles, moods, textures. So as I studied the Grateful Dead, I also studied The Beatles, Van Morrison, Santana, Sly Stone, Jimi Hendrix, Ray Charles, Buck Owens, Aretha Franklin, Stevie Wonder, Bobby Womack, and on and on. To integrate these far flung ideals and styles, I tried on many different personas, some for a minute, some for a year or two. At the end of each study period, however long or short, I had gleaned what it was that resonated in my heart from each of these great artists, and could then integrate that resonance into who I was, am and will always be; me. The vocabulary that develops from this infusion of style, nuance and singularity, is profound, in its implications in our future, for no one can or will ever be just like you. Nor will anyone ever integrate those particular influences quite like you do. That means there is literally NO COMPETITION. Think about that for a moment. This means, if you choose, you can stop worrying that someone is going to knock you off the stage, because you have a unique niche, one that is unquestionably yours and yours alone. This also means that you, if you choose, can take down those walls you might have built that keep you from appreciating and connecting with your perceived ‘competition’. Now that’s a healthy thing, and something that’s sorely needed in this music business in my opinion. I hope that ideas like this will spread throughout our musical (and greater) community, and facilitate a mutually supportive environment for The Arts in general, and all those who participate, on every level. -Alex Kash 09-16-07

I grew up in San Francisco during the 50’s and 60’s. That was a marvelous time for music in that area, and I am grateful for the priceless experiences I had then. One of these experiences I remember as having a life changing effect on me was at a place, a tourist mall in Fisherman’s Wharf district, called Ghirardelli Square. I remember an experience I had, really a few experiences I had, in watching a certain gentleman who used to perform on the street at the bottom steps, facing the old Maritime Museum there. This gentle and sweet man used to sing and play the gut string guitar. He would throw back his head and smile as wide as the sky, while singing a Harry Belafonte or Frank Sinatra song. He had a face that was a cross between Sammy Davis Jr. and Al Jarreau. He had a big laugh you could hear a block away, and he invariably engaged you, stopping you in your tracks to listen attentively. Now I absorbed all of this mostly unconsciously. My mother would give me a dollar after we had listened to a song or two, and I would put it into his tip jar. He also had a sign board with his name, and a few photos of himself standing next to Dean Martin and other stars who had passed through town. I remember going there alone years later and missing him in that very spot, as if he had permeated the pavement and surrounding walls with his presence, his spirit. I am convinced that he had indeed done just that. That tone and melody came flooding back, and with it, a realization of the weight and depth of that experience, and all of its long hidden implications; the presence, his stance, the arresting persona, the indelible etching of a colorful memory. In essence, a perfect example of what it is to be a magnetic, arresting, and unforgettable street performer. Some time after this, I was on a San Francisco bus downtown, heading west, out to the avenues. It was rush hour, and I was one of many people standing crammed together. Looking blankly around me, I suddenly recognized this man, who had inspired me, and changed my life. This man whose name I still did not know. He looked frail, worried, tired, and a little angry or bitter. I knew exactly that it was him with the beautiful smile, voice and guitar. Unfortunately, I was now a very self conscious teenager, shy and uncertain of how this man might react to my words of praise, which were very conspicuously absent from forming in my mind. I know I stared at him long enough to make him uncomfortable, which would have been all too common for me in my teenage intensity. I realized that I was almost missing my stop, and hurriedly left the bus. I immediately felt that I had missed a great opportunity to give something back to this man, and I regret it to this day. Last year, I released an album of songs, called ‘Organic Alchemy’. My idea was to dedicate that album to this man, but it seemed strange to do without knowing his name. I have decided to release this tribute to him to the world, name or not, because he deserves it, and because I need to acknowledge his influence publicly. If you have folks or friends in San Francisco that might know the name of this gentleman, I would really appreciate hearing from you. A picture of him would be even better. And if you have an influential person like this in your life, please take a moment now to recognize and acknowledge the gift given to you, to the person who has given it. You’ll sleep better for it, believe me. -Alex Kash 09-22-07

I would like to take this opportunity to reach out to all the other artists of every kind out there, and offer to trade my creations for yours. Obviously we would have to both agree that what we are trading for has value, and I am open to dialog on that. Trading creates dialog, and dialog is a doorway to deepening friendship. Friendship is a path to community, and I think we all need more, deeper, and wider community. If you want to trade with me, let’s talk about it. In any case, my best to all of my friends. -Alex Kash