The Current - Patti Smith on music, art and navigating loss

Episode Date: December 11, 2025

The godmother of punk says she never had a choice when it came to being an artist -- it was her calling from the moment she first laid eyes on a Picasso in a Philadelphia gallery. She talks about creating through loss, listening to omens and reliving her childhood, in new memoir Bread of Angels.

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Donate at lovescarbro.cairbo. This is a CBC podcast. Hello, I'm Matt Galloway, and this is the current podcast. Patti Smith's People Have the Power People Have the Power Patty Smith's People Have the Power Has been a rock and roll anthem Since she released it

In 1988, she is an artist, an activist, an author The Godmother of punk, people often call her But it's actually hard to label A cultural icon like Patty Smith Bruce Springsteen once said of her I'm kind of a showman Patty Smith is a shaman She has had a remarkable life.

She's written about it in books like just kids and documented it on her popular Instagram feed. And now Patty Smith has written a new memoir. It's called Bread of Angels. Patty Smith, good morning. Thank you. Good morning to you. How are you doing? I'm fine.

I'm in the middle of many things, but recovering from my tour but also plowing into other things. But I'm happy, you know, happy with my work. at least, or the work that I'm collaborating on. Fantastic. You've done this before in terms of writing a memoir and looking back at your life. What does it like to do that, to go over your life?

It's difficult, you know. It's difficult because there's so much responsibility. Writing fiction, one can be very irresponsible. You have a full range of the imagination, but in writing nonfiction, you have to very attentive to details to make certain that you represent people properly, even people you don't like, that they're represented properly. And the time frame and history and there's so many things that one has to be attentive to. And but I decided to do it. So I, you know, put all of my effort in it. But it's, I'm hoping that this is the last time I,

I will be on such a venture. I feel like this is it. And now I can, you know, write detective stories and fairy tales or whatever I want. You go right back to the beginning. And you paint this picture from your early childhood. There's a scene. Let me just read this. You say, on hot summer nights, the grownups would convene in lawn chairs,

smoking cigarettes, drinking dandelion wine, the men talked of war, the women revealed secrets to each other, and the kids ran wild. Tell me about that and about what early childhood is like for you. Well, I think it's a lot different than the childhood that, unfortunately, you know, young children, it's a different time. We have, it's just everything is different, culturally, technically. The dangers of letting your children run wild have much, have much. escalated, at least in America. So, you know, we really, it was after World War II.

Our parents were working. You know, we had some neighborhood person watching over us, but, you know, we played outdoors all day. We didn't have anything that kept us in the house except for books for me. And I could read books anywhere. I could sit under a tree and read a book. And so it was really... a much more, we were much more connected with the weather, with nature, with our imagination, and with

collaborative imagination. We weren't, you know, living in any isolated way. We weren't glued to a screen and we didn't, you know, we didn't have any technology, really. I even remember when the first little record player, the first spindle came out and a four. came out. It was a whole new world. So it is, I just, I just think that we were freer to use our imagination and, you know, we didn't have a whole lot of supervision either. What did books give you in your imagination? You were sick a lot as a child. You write about how you had TB, scarlet fever, measles, mumps, chicken pox, Asian flu. I might be missing some things as well.

Let's skip the one you've missed. You spend a lot of time by yourself, right? And I just wonder what did that give you? Well, time to read. I mean, I loved reading. I loved books since I was a toddler. I was very attracted to them and loved the worlds that they, you know, they opened up many, many worlds. And I just devoured them. And because I had a very good imagination myself and some of them help fuel or,

nourish my imagination and some were just you know just took me to whole other places so I love books I mean I still love books my I'm when I'm talking to you my whole table is littered with all kinds of books I've never lost contact with my love of of the book what's on the table well there's a book by the Japanese writer at Kutigawa there's a golden book of little lulu a little i really like little lulu there's um a book of stories about uncle wiggily there's a book that's coming out next year that i have to write a blurb about called lazar which i think is brilliant and what else do i got it looks like there's another one and a couple of notebooks and you might be sorry you ask and oh and um i um saw haruki morocke morocom

me yesterday, I had to present him with a lifetime achievement award and fiction, and he gave me a copy of the city and its uncertain walls, and it was autographed. So that's the other, a great prize on my desk. That's amazing. A book autographed by Heruki Morakami. When you were young, you overheard a teacher of yours describe you as an odd duck. And that could be an insult you could take great offense to that but I wonder did she have something there do you think well the way that I reasoned um she really meant that I was a weird kid she it wasn't a compliment but then when I read Hans Christian Anderson's ugly duckling um at the end of the story the ugly duckling becomes a swan so in my mind as a young child I thought um there was a

always hope for me that I would transform somehow. So once again, a book or a story to the rescue. I mean, art has meant so much to you. And it's not just books. Tell me about you were 12 years old and your father took you to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. What happened? Well, first of all, I had never seen art in person. I had, you know, there wasn't, we had moved from Philadelphia to Southern New Jersey and in the 50s it was very rural, very rural. And there wasn't any real center for culture there. There was no library. Anything that you wanted to see, a movie was two miles away. You had to walk to the movies. The library was three or four miles away. There was no, there was no real cultural center. And so I had never seen art in person.

and seeing all these paintings, beautiful paintings, some that I had seen in books, like some John Singer Sargent, Medigliani's, and then Picasso, which for some reason, being only 12 and having no real education about the growth of modern art and the advancement of modern art, I was beguiled by cubism. And I think, when I think about, it might be because that's how my mind worked, you know, at very, you know, different facets. I wasn't a real linear person. And it made perfect sense to me, Cubism. And I was very attracted to his paintings and which my father was not. So we had our first intellectual argument at Philadelphia Museum of Art. Is that when you knew that this is, that this was what you would do?

I wasn't sure in what capacity, because I wasn't particularly gifted in anything but storytelling. But I decided that I wanted to be an artist or at least live in the realm of art. That's what I just decided that art was going to be in some form my vocation. And I was 12 and I never really looked back. I mean, it might have, you know, the vote, the, what I chose to do might have shifted, whether it was writing poetry or making records. But they still stayed within, for me, the realm of art. It feels like, I mean, in reading the book, you've had a bunch of these moments where something, you encounter something and everything changes. You discover the poet Arthur Rimbaud.

You hear Bob Dylan for the first time. How would you describe what those moments meant? to you because it feels like one of those like the clouds part and the sun comes out do you know what i mean well it's it's like when i met my future husband um it's like love at first sight you it's complete recognition i remember thinking that the first time i saw jackson pollock i no one had to explain anything to me or talk to me about it i just recognize something in it and something for myself or certain writers certain poems you know i read yates or you know whatever hearing bob dylan's voice for the first time my first time reading a poem by rumbo it was like i guess it's like in certain ways

not in a narcissistic way but looking in a mirror you see something of yourself something articulated of yourself that you never articulated on your own and so you recognize it And that's the only way I could possibly describe it. Those are really powerful moments. Yes. Well, they never, you know, not one of those things that we, that I just mentioned, ever changed. I always love my husband from the very first moment and I've been a widow for 30 years. I still love him. I always, I love Picasso from the first moment.

I still love Picasso. and I still love Rimbaud and Bob Dylan. And, you know, whatever else might have. I still love the poems of Sylvia Plath. Things that beguile me often beguile me for life. Dylan came to your very first show that you played as a band. Is this right? Yes.

Yes, he did. That's quite, I mean, the way that you described the scene is quite something. Tell me that story. Well, I mean, I had always performed first on my own. them with a pianist and Lenny Kay, but it was always poetry-based. But I had so much energy that it started moving, without any real plan, more towards rock and roll, merged with poetry. And then we decided, you know, we'd see what it was like to have a drummer.

And our first job with a drummer was at the bitter end, a club in New York City. And I was excited because it was our first job with a drummer. and the atmosphere was so electric that I could feel it. And I thought, well, is this? People were very excited because we had a drummer. It just felt more electric than usual. And after it was over, I went backstage, hopped up on adrenaline. And I heard this voice say, any poets back here?

And I knew that voice, and I turned around. And it was Bob Dylan. And for acting like some kind of teenage kid, I just said, I hate poetry. And he just laughed because he thought it was funny. He knew I didn't hate poetry. But I think looking back on it, he might have laughed because it's sort of something he might have done, you know, go against the grain. Just don't, you know, be his own devil's advocate. But it was, yeah, it was great.

And he was very nice to me. very supportive you've described your relationship with him not as a friendship but kind of a mutual respect between artists i mean i was not on the level any comparative level but he seemed he trusted me i was more like a sidekick or a pal for a while but he he he um i felt that he was honest with me And, you know, I, it was, there was nothing, I don't know, it was just, I could say what I thought, and he would ask my opinion. And he seemed to respect my opinion. But I, I was grateful for his, for his support. because it

you know we were already gaining a lot of support we had a lot of press we had a small but you know loyal fan base but having him

in the equation sort of made everything blossom this assent isn't for everyone you need grit to climb this high this often you've got to be an underdog

That always overdelivers. You've got to be 6,500 hospital staff, 1,000 doctors, all doing so much with so little. You've got to be Scarborough. Defined by our uphill battle and always striving towards new heights. And you can help us keep climbing. Donate at lovescarbro.cairbo.ca. Is your home ready for the next big snowstorm? You can take action to help protect your home from extreme weather.

Discover prevention tips that can help you be climate ready at Keep It Intag.com. On the 10th of November, 1975, you released your album Horses. It just celebrated its 50th anniversary. This is how that record begins. died for somebody's sins, but not mine. Milder, a pie of thieves, while caught of my sleeve. Thick, heart of stone, my sins my own,

they belong to me, me. People say beware. Patty Smith, Bruce Springsteen said that that is the greatest opening line of any debut album in rock and roll. There are people of my generation. Oh yeah, he said that to the New York Times. He said that that is the best opening line of an album in rock and roll, of a debut album. There are people of my generation. I remember when I heard that for the very first time, a friend of mine lent me that record and said,

you need to listen to this and going and putting the needle down on the turntable and hearing the very beginning of that. And it's like, did you know, you must have known opening a record like that would have that kind of impact. Well, I mean, I had no sense of audience or who would listen to these records. I thought it would be like these ESP discs that I liked that maybe a very small cult following would listen to. Those are like out jazz, like kind of free jazz on ESP. Yeah, or like Patty Waters or something and that we would have a little cult following. following and that was exciting of like minds and um i didn't expect for it to be so explosive

and um i even got people either praying for me or threatening me with death threats for you know admonishing jesus and i said i didn't do that i was really i mean i had great respect for jesus and then you know as i get older a whole different relationship with the idea of Jesus. But back then, I was simply taking my, you know, my exploration, my wrongdoings, my mistakes in my own hands. And also I felt, you know, that I had to make a decision between, you know, my vocation and religion. I was brought up, you know, I went to Bible school since I was two years old. I went from Bible school to then being a Jehovah Witness and was in, you know, till I was, you know, till I saw art. And I had, I made a big step.

And so it was really more of a declaration of existence. It wasn't anything against Christ or as followers, but it was like saying that I'm here, I'm going to make a lot of mistakes, I'm going to explore, even when I know things might be risky. And I don't want anyone taking responsibility or having to die for me. I will, you know, take my own responsibility. You know, I was, when I wrote that line, I was, I didn't write it at the time of horses. I wrote it in 68. And I was 21 years old. So it's really the declaration of a 21-year-old girl in 1968. What's it like to look back at it 50 years later? Somebody said that it reached people who needed to hear that record in some ways.

That's what I wanted to do when we did the record. It was according to the need. It went out for people who felt alone, disenfranchised, and I didn't know who those people would be. But I've met some of them, you know, someone like Michael Stipe. or you know someone you know some of the members of you too or just people on the street you know just people many people have said that it was you know helpful to them or inspiring to them or you know gave them voice but i'm i'm happy with that but i'm more happy when people then do their own

work because you know that's why one of my motivations in recording has always been to inspire people to do their own work think for themselves you know i don't want to be anybody's goddess or icon really i just want you know to be someone that won't intentionally steer them wrong you know, and do the best work I can, and that's what I do. You mentioned your husband, Fred. You write about him. I mean, it was one of the great rock and roll love stories. Tell me about when you first met.

You went to a party. You didn't want to go to the party, but they had legendary hot dogs, so you felt like you should go to the party. It was in Detroit, our first time in Detroit. I don't like parties, and I really don't. And I didn't want some big. loud rock and roll party at night and they said all right well how about one during the day and um the lafayette coney island and who make legendary hot dogs and that sounded good to me you know so i um

i went and had a couple hot dogs which were legendary and um as i was leaving i saw this fella just standing just standing there and when i we looked at each other and i can't tell you it happen it was it was like it was fate alchemy two smiths you know i don't know but i i just knew that he was my person and and he was you mentioned that he died when he was just very young and and you mentioned michael stipe called you on valentine's day shortly after he died yes he did what did and that's how i that's how i met michael um i loved his music and uh i didn't know he him of course, but I listened to his music and would see his videos on MTV. And on Valentine's Day quite late, Valentine's night, the phone rang and I answered it. And I recognized his voice

from seeing him maybe in an interview or something on television. And he told me that he was a bit tipsy. And he was calling from Spain. And somehow he got my number. And it occurred to him that this was probably the first Valentine's Day in maybe 20 years that I wasn't with Fred. And he was afraid that I was alone or lonely. And he decided to call me somewhat sheepishly. And I was so touched by that, touched by the sentiment. And also because I loved his music. And from that one phone call, we became very close friends.

And we're very close to this day. Let me ask you one final thing. And this is just, it speaks to the power of art throughout your life. There's an epigraph in your book by Gerhard Richter, and it says art is the highest form of hope. Do you still believe that? I mean, it's the one thing that doesn't betray me. Human kind can betray you.

Your government can betray you. But your work, you know, your work won't lie. You know, your work, you know, gives you an outlet of absolute truth, you know, and able to put the best of yourself in. And I just feel it's something also great art will always inspire us, always, you know, instruct us. We don't listen. I mean, Picasso gave us Gernica. That painting alone should make, cause people to shy.

away from war but they commit it anyway and um but i yeah i mean i it's i was blessed at a very young age with with a very good imagination and with the ability to articulate that imagination that is my realm of art and it's kept me going i mean i'll be 79 and i still feel like i have lots of good work to do. And, you know, that alone gives me hope for the future. Lucky us that you still feel charged to do that. It's a real joy to talk to you. Patty Smith, thank you so much. Thank you. Oh, so nice to talk to you too. And I really liked your questions. Patty Smith, her new memoir, is Bread of Angels. We spoke to her from her home in New York. You've been listening to the current podcast. My name is Matt Galloway. Thanks for listening. I'll talk to you soon.

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