Last night I watched the Director’s cut of a film called “Cowboys and Aliens”, and the first Part of Ken Burns’ epic history of America’s National Parks. In both of these disparate entertainments, the wisdom and spirituality of the American Indian brings calm and understanding, and makes sense of the importance of the wealth of our surroundings, of the beauty of nature, that we have all but destroyed in the pursuit of money, control over others, and intolerance. We need to unite and embrace a lot of what the Indigenous peoples of this continent have believed for centuries, and face off with those whose obsession with the accumulation of wealth and power over others. I want Gene Rodenberry’s future, not George Miller’s. It’s time we stopped whining and yelling and arguing…and DID something about our problems.
We’re in an interesting transitional period with music. Not the industry part that I’ve frequently beaten up and kicked to the curb time and time again. No, I’m talking about musical direction. I had hoped upon hope that post-9/11 the singer-songwriter would make a massive mainstream comeback to usher in the silver age of thinking man’s music. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. The simpletons in charge of what we listen to doubled down on the stupid with the vacant tap dancing and lip-syncing of nubile females, effeminate boy bands and reality stars-turned-prime-time-embarrassments. ‘American Idol’ was the new A & R department for the future of music.
This week has been a difficult one. An anniversary of a tragic event in California, the insanity of millions of people blindly following a completely failed human being and giving nary a thought to his worthlessness, and a continuing nostalgia-driven blockade of great new music and artists by those who actually believe nothing of worth has been created since the end of the ’70s.
Enjoying today (Tuesday). Playing hooky from the computer for a while. 27 degrees out! and last time I checked the date it was mid-October. No coat, no sweater, no closed-toed shoes….wonderful. The cold will arrive soon enough so enjoy these gorgeous days while you can.
Frank Gutch Jr: This One’s Personal— Tamara Saviano and Guy Clark; Plus a Compendium of Notes (Whatever a Compendium Is)Posted in Opinion, Review with tags Aaron Lee Tasjan, Adaya, Blue Rodeo, Christian Vegh, Claire Hunter, DBAWIS, Don't Believe a Word I Say, Frank Gutch Jr., Guy Clark, Indie Artists, Indie Music, Jennis, Jerry Jeff Walker, kyle carey, Matt Nakoa, music, music videos, Notary Sojac, radio, Radney Foster, Records, segarini, Susanna Clark, Sweet Home Oregon, Tamara Saviano, Townes Van Zandt, Warloks on October 18, 2016 by segarini
Tamara Saviano has written a biography of Guy Clark. She dedicated it to Chet Flippo who I know as a music writer and historian who wrote for and edited a series of important zines back in the seventies. The article which struck me the most was the piece he wrote for Phonograph Record Magazine in the March 1974 issue titled “Texas Rock and Roll Spectacular” which broke Texas music into regions and highlighted the most notable musicians. Buddy Holly was in it, of course, as was Doug Sahm and Johnny Winter and Waylon Jennings and even Groovy Joe Poovey, all cited as influential to Texas music. Even Townes Van Zandt got mention and I mention that not in the sense that he did not deserve it but in the sense that Guy Clark, very much a cohort of Van Zandt, was conspicuous in his absence. I have scratched my head over that for years. I can stop scratching. Saviano, in this book, sets the record straight.
Bob Dylan, the prior winner of a litany of top-shelf awards (Pulitzer, Album of the Year Grammy, Presidential Medal of Freedom, the Academy Award .. just to name a few) won the Nobel Price for Literature last week.
It was touch and go in the early part of 2016 for Classic Rock. Half the people that have ever made music in my lifetime died in the first 6 months. That’s an exaggeration, of course, but it looked like it was going to be up to The Rolling Stones to save the planet. Well, since the release of The Beatles documentary “Eight Days A Week” the geezers are rallying.