MUSICALLY AND 
PHILISOPHICALLY CONNECTING THE 60’S/70’S GOLDEN AGE OF FOLK/ROCK TO TODAY, AMERICANA SINGER/SONGWRITER PATRICK AMES EXPLORES A DYNAMIC ‘OAKVILLE ONTOLOGY’

Truly following his musical muse at his own pace in his own time, singer/songwriter Patrick Ames is fast emerging as a force in indie folk/rock/Americana at an age when many rockers 
contemplate packing it in. While many of them have their heyday and then buy vineyards in retirement, Ames has owned the five acre vineyard in Napa Valley where he wrote his new album Oakville Ontology for 20 years.

First hitting a nerve with his trademark infectious retro-meets-contemporary vibe on his 2013 debut Willow Glen Sessions, Ames strapped on his acoustic, walked outside and first played these songs to the lush vineyards on his Napa hillside, as if each vine was an audience member  – his way of mastering each tune in a peaceful setting while  practicing singing without amplification. Living the other half of the time in Palo Alto, he has performed for live audiences and his growing fan base at street fairs, bistros and coffeehouses – with an eye towards touring such venues around the country.

A native of Toledo, Ohio (which he calls “Little Detroit”), he grew up equally on Motown and folk rock but gravitated towards the latter in his days at Wooster College and after, when he performed in various folk bands and at coffeehouses in the 70s. It’s no surprise then that decades later, when he began getting serious about music again after finding success in the tech publishing world with companies like Apple and Adobe, Ames would tap into that same vibe while musically and philosophically connecting the spirit of that musical era with today.

Ames says his passion for performing for people was sparked by playing a guitar that he gave his eight year old son a decade ago. His son didn’t take to it, but he loved it like an old friend, so he started practicing until he lived up to his favorite adage, “If you practice 10,000 hours, you will be good at it.” He says, “I played and practiced intermittently for 30 years, and then over the last ten years started to apply myself. What led me to Willow Glen, a studio housed in a building that once was the site of an iconic San Jose counterculture music store called Stevenson music, was that I couldn’t hear myself properly and I needed a recording to see how I sounded. I hired a sound engineer, walked into the studio and played live, no added tracks, 20-some songs over two or three weeks. And what I thought I heard in practice came across well in the studio!”

One of Ames’ fellow musicians called Oakville Ontology the “Best 70s album in 40 years.” Its title reflects his deep contemplation of the nature of being and existence, and its nine expansive tracks have a pointed sense of social consciousness very much lacking in the pop music of today. Ames calls the contemplative ballad “I Could Be Mistaken” a “Joan Baez-like anthem” addressing the very contemporary theme of global warming while reflecting on the long faded ecology awareness craze of the 70s. Wondering “Haven’t we done this before?” he fears the passion for action may fade and asks “Can we afford to wait another 50 years?”

He taps into images of the Vietnam War on “How To Kill A Protest Song,” which was inspired by hearing a powerful Jimi Hendrix song of that era played over the speaker at Dunkin’ Donuts as a way to entertain customers. It laments the way songs that addressed the needless deaths of Americans in a long ago war have been commercialized. Ames takes things down to a more personal level on tracks like the soulful opener “Arm Yourself With This Song,” an encouraging piece about how to talk to a friend who is suffering from cancer. The catchy, beachy and 
slightly salsified tune is uniquely juxtaposed with the heavy theme of its lyrics, creating a powerful emotional experience. Ames also cleverly taps into the theme of aging with the string sweetened “Time Opens All Wounds.”

“Willow Glen was my opportunity to finally come out of the closet, musically speaking,” Ames says. “Despite decades in the practice room, practicing in my spare time after a 12-hour job at Apple and a family, what came out was good as live takes. It was like a time capsule finally opening.”