Of Soap and Songs

Some people seem to possess a special vitality and spark that translates into constant action and creativity. It doesn't matter what form it takes, they have to craft an object, concoct a recipe, or render a feeling into painting, poetry, pottery, something. They're alchemists, transforming their ideas and perceptions into tangible manifestations that can be experienced by others. I'm thinking in particular right now about a young woman called JuJu. She (and her husband Ben) are friends of my daughter and her fiancé, and we went to visit them while we were in England. Their garage is a recording studio and also at the moment a place to hang laundry, store drums, guitars, and stage props, visualize music videos, and set out handmade soaps to dry.

About those soaps: colorful bars, lusciously scented with natural ingredients, and the brand is called Of Woodstock. (The link will take you to the Facebook page, but I think there's a website in progress.) There was quite an assortment on hand: thyme and poppy for removing smells, rosewood-geranium, jasmine-honeysuckle, a chamomile blue sea salt scrub, and my favorite, spice-ginger, each one a layered sequence of fragrant notes, a little chunk of music for the nose, and gently effective. There were also thin triangular slices of soap strung in decorative banners, handsome black slate soap trays, and liquid soap in a brown glass bottle, sturdy and old-fashioned, no plastic in sight.

But soap is a sideline. I think it's fair to say that their band, Candy Says, is Ben and JuJu's primary creative endeavor. (Unless you count being parents to a little boy named Theo, which is a pretty big project also.) Billed as a "lo-fi chic pop DIY band from Oxford" their sound is variously dreamy, catchy, and surprising. Don't take my word for it. Read the reviews, and listen to a track or two of their new album, Not Kings. Even buy it if you want.

JuJu previously fronted a rock n' roll band called Little Fish, and they were getting noticed. She's got the voice, believe me, and the spirit, and some indefinable kind of charisma. After Little Fish opened for Courtney Love in New York in 2010, The New York Times proclaimed that they had "the raw rock spark that doesn't depend on fame", and Debbie Harry asked them to join Blondie for a UK tour. They had boarded the train to stardom. Then, a year later, they decided that they were going to do things their own way, and they stepped off. It's a fascinating story.

There's even a book about it. It's called F**k the Radio We've Got Apple Juice by Miranda Ward, and yes, she's my daughter, but she happens to be a terrific writer, and the book is a good read. (It's easy to find right here on Amazon and elsewhere.)I recommend this book because not only does it tell the particular story of JuJu and Little Fish, but it explores the idea of creativity in a broader sense and asks important questions: Why do we make music or art or strive to be writers? How does one do these things and still make a living? What constitutes a living anyway? How much do we need? What are the trade-offs? How do we create community? And what happens if we rethink and rewrite the myths we live by? It's a book about independence, about making your own way. And about making stuff. Even soap, if you're so inclined.

It's never easy, being young, stepping out into the world, figuring out what you're going to do, finding that balance between idealism and materialism, passion and practicality. And maybe it's even more challenging in the current economy when the old rules and promises don't necessarily apply. I think about this a lot as I watch my daughter and others of her generation with love and admiration, struck by how brave they are and how innovative they need to be. They are guided by a different kind of compass.

In fact, Juju wrote a manifesto for the Not Kings album that reflects this. Here's an excerpt:

We are not kings. We’re not even pretenders to the throne. We meet, and we dream. And then we try and work out how to stitch and play and scribble and beat our dreams into things that can be seen and touched and heard. We dare to dream of better times. Of times that are less obsessed with money, with image, with things that simply – when all is stripped away – do not matter. We’re not blinkered or unworldly – we understand the need to work and earn a living. But we do challenge the status quo. We challenge relentless dumbing down. We challenge materialism and greed, and we challenge the encouragement of a selfish individualism that isolates people from one another. Some would call us failures, for turning our back on conventional ways of making art or making money. Maybe we are. But if this is failure, we kind of like it! Join us in our failure. Let’s create a community where we work alongside one another and help each other. There is nothing more bland than ordinary. And people want you to be ordinary. If you’re ordinary, you pose no threat. However, if you fancy becoming extraordinary, it’s easy. You just need to start doing. Making. If you create, I’m afraid you’re not ordinary anymore...

Nope, they're not kings, but there's nothing ordinary about these folks.

May the community arise and thrive.

Subscribe