Michael LaRocco

The Patti Smith concert at the San Francisco Art Institute was a transformational experience, the stuff dreams are made of. I left afterward, completely buzzed, like a blind man trying to walk on water, levitated by the sound of Smith’s voice in my head—a sound that stayed with me for hours after she departed the stage. I walked from Russian Hill after the show, through Chinatown, all the way to my flat in the Mission District, listening to Smith’s music on my iPhone, complet