Hollywood is the first place I remember, that basement apartment on Wilton Street. One room. The bed pulled down from the wall. From the window, I could watch shoes and legs as they strolled down the sidewalk. Someone burned our stuffed animals in an incinerator. We took long walks on Hollywood Boulevard. One day I saw a dead puppy in the street. A boy told me I would never forget. Then the G.I. Bill offered a home in the San Fernando Valley. There was a sheep ranch down the street and a truck farm around the corner. Children everywhere. We swung from trees in the pine tree forest. Then came the malls, and the ranches and farms gave way to apartments. They bulldozed the forest and made a parking lot. The surf was up and things were changing fast. I discovered music in 1964 on the Ed Sullivan show and bought my first guitar for $12. My friend, Eddie, taught me to play. He moved. I grew up. A mixed bag of influences took me from Freight Trains to A-Trains. I’ve lived here and there, and the music has traveled well. I don’t believe in magic, but I have no doubt of the miraculous. Songs are memories mixed with dreams. Sometimes my words surprise me. Now I’m at home, looking out an open window.
– Allan Ides