Frank Gutch Jr: Music For a Rainy Day, Free Research Turtles Download Reminder, and Notes…..

I sit in a small enclosed room and await the first rain in a few months, feeling sorrow for those who live in drought-infested areas and have to wait for the life-giving water which falls from the sky. It is a wondrous thing, rain. I cannot imagine living without it, having grown up in the Pacific Northwest where rain and indeed weather is such a factor in life. In the past more than the present, of course, because the State of Oregon depended upon farming and logging for so many decades and God knows that farmers and loggers constantly looked and look to the sky, hoping that the gods are friendly.

I remember as if it were yesterday walking down Main Street with my father in my hometown of Sweet Home, stopping on occasion for friendly conversations with his friends and acquaintances. The talk was always about weather, even topping the occasional tragedy which swept the town, and as a child I could think of no less important topic than weather. I strained at the reins as it were to be on our way, but Dad always took the time. He was a logger. The weather dictated his life, in summer and winter, and he was always ready for a heads up. Farmers were no different. Weather pretty much set their schedules and rain or snow or lack thereof affected not only those people but their families and sometimes the entire town.

So I sit here awaiting the sound of raindrops because I cannot live in the same kind of weather for long periods of time without losing a certain degree of sanity (the reason I left the hub of the West Coast music business, Southern California) and I will welcome it knowing that it might not stop for months, at which time I will pray for sunshine. Ah, there it is. The sound of the first raindrops of Fall and it sounds so refreshing, even in the light of the fact that long walks in the rain will soon grow old whereas long walks in the sun never do.

I am struck by the difference rain and sun make to music and the absorption of it. The first song I ever really related to the weather was a falsehood, The Beatles‘ Rain more of a summer song than fall or winter, McCartney’s bass line a hook in itself and the song reeking of sunshine and happiness. I dance to that song, in my head of course, and whereas Gene Kelly may have relished a romp through raindrops, I never did and what is with that happiness anyway? It was raining and when you have expensive patent leather dancing shoes and a suit which cost a fortune (by any farmer’s or logger’s standards), you don’t dance. Not in the rain. At that time, that could mean a loss of a week’s profits— well, replacing the items could— and it wasn’t common sense and, anyway, people would talk. No, rain is good for one thing— making things grow. At least, that was the thinking.

As much as I try, I cannot really make happy when it rains. Rain has always been a reason for introspection and contemplation and when it rains, I no longer want to take long walks and watch how people, inside and outside, handle it. I want to think and to listen and to rejuvenate. Today, with the rain, rather than plow through a day’s work, I now want to put the work under a microscope and analyze it. I want to know what makes people tick and why they think the way they do because we humans are sure as hell not on the same page at the same time, something this election year makes all too evident. I want to know things I don’t know and most of all I want to feel for that is one thing I need to make me human.

There is music for that. There is music that makes you want to happy dance and there is music which makes you angry or intense. There is music for a wide range of emotions, in fact, but most of all there is music for you. Music which makes you feel special, be it sad or thankful or maybe just emotional, for we all have to let down our guard once in awhile and remind ourselves what it is like to be human after a week or even a day of watching the world run amok. There are only so many excuses we can make for the horrible people that we humans can be before we have to close the world off and sink within ourselves. I mean, what makes a person shoot a young girl, for any reason. And why do we idolize assholes who happen to have lucked upon some form of financial success? And why do we not care for all youth, for they are young by definition, right, and don’t the young learn by making mistakes? (My generation evidently didn’t, judging by how badly we have fucked things up) I sigh. I sigh from deep down because it is raining and things are far from perfect and yet we accept it.

At moments like these, I implode because laws mean nothing and business means nothing and sometimes I think that life means nothing because we don’t seem to think it does. Not other people’s lives. Only our own. For the next few hours, I am going to listen to music and write about it because I am so tired of hearing “Not in my back yard” and “They are the problem,” all of the fuck you’s being passed around like candy at Halloween. It is raining and I need to feel something from someone else other than opinions and hate. So set yourself. Here is some of the music which I use to protect myself from the real world. This is my best of the best of the music which makes me feel. Pop quiz at eleven.

Greg Laswell/Through Toledo (Vanguard) (2006)— Of the older albums I have, this is the one I go to most when I’m down. The story is as simple (and as complicated) as the music. Cliff’s Notes version: Laswell comes home to find his wife gone, heads into his bedroom and doesn’t come out for six months. What he comes out with are the songs for a new album and by the time it is recorded, he has gone through the five or seven (depending upon who you ask) steps of grieving. Even though I didn’t know it until after I had heard the album, I could tell something was up. The music flowed and the words were saying something I knew would be special. By the time he got to Through Toledo, the track, I was sold. By the time I got through it ten times, I was buried. This is not whiny folk, my friends, but an honest album of rock music, simple as that. It rocks even when it doesn’t. Laswell somehow found that point at which everything coalesces and though he didn’t know it, recorded a beauty of an album. The sadness isn’t in the music but in the songs— in the process. Yes, it was cathartic for him, I am sure, but it didn’t happen overnight. There was pain— deep pain— but there was also growth. This album gives me hope when it seems there is none. If nothing else, it is a production masterpiece. Laswell produced it.

Cowboy/5’ll Getcha Ten (Capricorn) (1971)— I was fresh out of the Army in 1971, a civilian for the first time in a year and nine months, feeling alone and questioning everything I had once believed in (like, for instance, not putting prepositions at the end of a sentence). It was a long year and nine months, the longest of my life, and when I got out I threw every bit of myself into every ideal I possessed, political and otherwise. Music fed those ideals. I didn’t realize how much until I picked up two Cowboy albums at The House of Records in Eugene and found the soundtrack for the back to the earth movement. Reach For the Sky screamed hippie but 5’ll Getcha Ten kicked my ass. There was a smooth country rock vibe to it and it got under my skin. Let us say, it spoke to me. The album was loaded with light rockers such as She Carries a Child and Seven Four Tune, songs head and shoulders above most of the music I’d been hearing, but what really sold it were the slower tunes. Like The Wonder, about a soldier who dies wondering if us humans will ever get along; like All My Friends, homage to the importance of friends and family; like What I Want Is You, a song dripping with love; and like Please Be With Me, which most people believe is an Eric Clapton song but which was really written and sung by Scott Boyer and first presented on 5’ll Getcha Ten. I almost fell to sleep one night (something akin to David Crosby almost cutting his hair) but vaulted wide awake when Cowboy reached deep into my consciousness and pulled me back to life. I really heard it for the first time and ended up pulling an all-nighter. Many a time I have listened to it over and over in an attempt to pull me out of a negative spiral. I loved this band. I love this album. Especially when it rains.

Brian Cullman/All Fires the Fire (Songs On Toast) (2007)— Sometimes I think that the future is pre-ordained— like, for instance, that I was predestined to meet Brian Cullman. It happened in an odd way. I had written a piece on mutual friend Nick Holmes bemoaning the fact that Holmes, after working with legends-in-my-mind White Elephant and putting out an album for the ages (more about that later), was lost to the ages. Cullman sent me a note. It said, contact me. I did. I found out that he was a good friend of Holmes and offered to put me in touch with him, an offer I would have taken up if I hadn’t a couple of weeks before tracked him down myself. We talked Holmes and we talked Cullman and eventually we started talking Ollabelle and a handful of other artists he deemed worthy. I started following his leads and next thing you know, I am inundated in a small mountain of music which killed me with its kindness. Good stuff. Amazing stuff. I went to see Ollabelle when they came to Portland and we talked about Cullman and what an odd duck he was and is and we laughed, not because he was unique but because he was so unique and we thanked the musical gods that it was so. I write articles about guys like Cullman, but I wouldn’t tackle him as a subject. I am waiting for him to write his own story because only he really knows what has gone on and is going on inside his head. The man is a treasure.

He is also a musician and one of the best I’ve heard. He put out this album titled All Fires the Fire which I had not only never heard but had not heard of and he offered to send me a copy, an offer I took him up on. When I got it, I admit to being a bit underwhelmed. Wait a minute. There is an explanation. It was more sedate than I’d hoped. It was more orchestrated than I’d imagined. His voice was, well, Cullman’s voice and I’d not heard him, having only read his messages online. I didn’t know what to think. I panic in such instances because he had gone beyond the pale to hand me information he didn’t have to about both himself and Holmes and just because of that I wanted to like the album. So I listened and listened and slowly but surely I got it.

It was No God But God that did it— which converted me from potential friend to devotee— and I probably should not write that because we have become friends and he will inevitably read this and God knows that his head is swelled enough as it is. That’s a joke, friends, because he is anything but swell-headed. He is honest and humble and wrapped up in everything and everyone but himself, which is one reason we are friends. But let me tell you about No God But God. I was sitting at my desk with headphones on and liking what I was hearing when this song I’d heard a handful of times before came on and a chill went up my spine. I mean this time, from the first note, I got it. It was not just good but magnificent. I could hardly breathe for fear of breaking the spell. So I listened over and over and waited for the magic to dissipate, but it never did. From there, I began to hear the reason, if reason it be, behind J’Attends and The Secret Doors and The Promise and the other songs on the album, especially As a Man Gets Older which holds more truth in one verse than most albums hold in their entirety. Ladies and Gentlemen, if any album deserves the fabled Linus Award, it is this one. This album I look upon as a reward for not giving up on the music after the first listen. And I seldom do.

An aside: Cullman mans his own radio show at taintradio.org which he calls Songs On Toast (also the name of his record label). He has a love for culture and history as well as music and you never know what you will hear. I recommend it heartily. Don’t let his eclectic tastes throw you. He comes up with music I would never have heard— never— and some of it I have embraced fully. This portion of my life is part of that I call Adventures in Music. I thank Cullman for making it even more adventurous.

Sydney Wayser/Bell Choir Coast (Silent Parade) (2012)— This album rocks a bit more than I usually like when it rains, but Sydney Wayser overwhelms me with her sound and between the sound of raindrops and her music, I am taken away. I painted a house to her earlier The Colorful album and fell in love with her voice, but it is the way she structures her songs which makes the big difference. I have no idea where she gets her ideas, but wherever it is I wish that others would dip from the same well. They are movements at times as well as songs and beg for arrangement and arrangement she gives them— one regal, another luxurious, yet another ethereal. Song after song, she paints musical landscapes of different hues but with her own unique brush. Has anyone else come up with a Bell Choir Coast? Not that I’ve heard. It will do until she comes up with an album specifically geared toward rain. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. To stream this album, click here.

Nick Holmes/Soulful Crooner (Just Sunshine) (1973)— People who read my writing on a regular basis (again, thanks, Uncle Ferd and Aunt Flo) have more than likely found a pattern, a repetition of certain artists and their works. I admit to it. I write about certain artists more than others. But I do it for a reason. Some works are so deeply engrained in me that I cannot imagine that others do not hear what I hear and see what I see, but they don’t. For the purpose of this piece, though, my inclusion of Nick Holmes is natural. Few albums have impressed me as much as this one and few artists have stayed as close to me since discovery. I found Holmes through White Elephant, as stated above, but the rediscovery which took part when I became acquainted with Cullman was an eye-opener. How surprised was I to find that he had two other albums for sale and had recorded even others? Pretty damn.

Sure, Soulful Crooner is the Holmes classic, but I cannot write about it without at least mentioning Low Ball and The King of 26^th Street. Two more Holmes beauties, these a bit more on the folk and blues side than jazz but worthy on their own. In my communications with Holmes, he seems to prefer Low Ball and I assume that that is because of the recording process. Myself, I am enamored by The King of 26^th Street. Both have outstanding moments, but the highs I get from tracks like My Little Secret and Yearning and Stranded in Chelsea are a bit stronger and higher. The disturbing thing about the album is that it lists tracks on both sides of the rear insert and makes me think it was meant to be a double album package. So I long to hear Jewelry Makes Noise and Eight Shades of Neon and Truth Gets Trouble, songs which might not even exist. Every time I have mentioned it, Holmes has brushed it aside without mention. I respect Holmes enough to let it go. There must be a reason he has not mentioned it. Some things are better left alone. But damn…..

Click here to stream Low Ball and be aware that links to Crooner and 26^th Street are provided at the bottom of that page. Pay no attention to anything but the music and the links. There appears to be another Nick Holmes on Myspace and the info seems to have been confused. The music and albums are okay, though. If you want to purchase, they are available on CDBaby through this link.

Rita Hosking/Burn (Rita Hosking) (2011)— I call Rita Hosking the Queen of the High Lonesome because when she rares back her head and really lets go, I cannot imagine a coyote within distance who doesn’t stop to listen. She is that vocal train whistle from a distance and the howl of the lonesome coyote and the pain of all the good that has passed all rolled into one. More than once I have sat on the porch, Hosking’s music making its way through the open door whilst raindrops pattered little rhythms on the porch roof. She takes me deep into the mines and through the Old West and even into other cultures which live today in the more rural areas and I don’t mind because it is a world I will only know through books and music, or so I seem to think. She has a song titled The Coyote on her latest album Burn which tugs at my soul. When I hear it I think of other afternoons and evenings past sitting on other porches listening to Steve Young‘s version of Peter LaFarge‘s Coyote and wonder if there is some connection I have with that animal, a connection long since lost. Not all of Hosking’s music is like The Coyote, thank the gods, because I couldn’t take it if it was. My heart would simply break. Learn about Hosking here.

Zephyr/Sunset Ride (Warner Brothers) (1972)— When I was in the Army back in the very early seventies, Zephyr came to Seattle and I remember all of the guys running around raving about this blues “chick” who really knew how to wail, so when I finally heard their first self-titled album and then Going Back To Colorado, their second, I thought I was ready for what they had described. It turned out to be way too bluesy for me— so bluesy that I completely missed the guitar of Tommy Bolin, a guitarist I would later revere. To be fair, I could never listen to Janis Joplin either, her voice more fingers on a blackboard to my ears than a soulful wail. No, it took the band’s third album (Sunset Ride) to make me listen and when it started, it never stopped. No blues on this one, though there are blues influences. Just flowing rock and some intricacies I have heard on few other albums— layered guitars and choogling harmonica and rolling bass with solos to complement the music rather than overpower it. Candy Givens had by then learned to control that powerful voice and the band had found their own place away from the blues which was never where they belonged anyway. It’s just rock, but rock which lives by itself and, really, rock only by definition. They had come to that place where the music overcomes the genre. It happens but it happens all too seldom so when it does, I latch on for the ride. There are moments, such as the beginning of the light and rhythmic Sold My Heart and the outro of No Time Lonesome, when I swear I have out of body experiences and, yes, it could have been the quality of the weed except that by that time I had given up dope and would not even take aspirin, convinced that drugs of any kind were a hindrance rather than a help. That is what their music did to me and still does, on occasion, and there are moments when I believe that most of their songs were written to be heard with accompaniment of the rain.

I am saddened every time I hear Sunset Ride because Candy Givens left us all too early and by that time she was part and parcel of what I hoped music would become— at least, a small part of it. May she be at peace.

Sage Run/Sage Run (sagerunmusic.com) (2011)— I don’t think that David Stace-James even realized he was a real musician when he put together the Sage Run album but he had to have when it was done. Only after listening to Steve Turnidge, though, the guy who mastered the album, and Dave Farrell of Linkin Park, to whom Stace-James had sent some demos. They knew what he had accomplished and they let him know in simple terms. It all boiled down to “This is good” and while he probably knew it, he didn’t. Such is the humility of some musicians.

It only took part of the album for me to realize that Stace-James had some religious background, though a religious album it is not. He has a way of bringing The Church into the music without you even knowing it, the grandeur slipping beneath the tracks and between the notes. It is most notable in Angels Waiting and Sending, the two overtly transcendent works, the aura of choir in the background at all times. There is the far away clanging of bells and the smell of incense and a sense of the ethereal— the unknown to which we have become accustomed.

It is beautiful and haunting and perfect background music to rain. As if rain itself needs it now and again. Come to think of it, this could very well have been recorded in the rain. It just fits.

Carleigh Nesbit/Flower To the Bee (carleighnesbit.com) (2008)— My head spins. Has it been that long since Ms. Nesbit entered the studio to record this? Four years? It seems like only last week that I pulled it from the envelope and put it in the player and was overwhelmed by the refreshingly honest sound of not only Nesbit’s voice but the muted tone of the “orchestra.” I put orchestra in quotes because when I was growing up the old-timers used to call any band with more than three instruments an orchestra. What I mean by “muted” is the softness— a straightforward and easy approach to the music which allows Nesbit her own pace and her pace translates to ease. It is her voice, yes, but not just her voice. It is her demeanor— comfortable and sincere. I guess if I had to label it, Nesbit’s music is the sound of Appalachian rain. She has yet to release a second album to my knowledge but I am saving a slot, just in case.

Zoe Muth & The Lost High Rollers/Self-Titled (zoemuth.com) (2009)— I’m not a real country fan but I make an exception for Zoe Muth. I grew up on country but Nashville has pretty much driven a nail through my interest, killing any I may have had for what comes out of that once roots-oriented city. Muth, though, steps beyond present day Nashville and encompasses a lot of what I used to love about the old Nashville. She wraps her music up in bits and pieces of Country & Western and Bluegrass and Folk and, using her captivating phrasing, drags me back to the music I used to love when I was a child— that of the fifties and sixties— much of which came out of, ahem, Nashville (though a completely different Nashville). She is a natural, having grown up in Seattle and not one of the many pro-country cities which have produced so much twang over the decades. The music is in her blood (and her solid songwriting and perfect voice).

She has released three albums, though the last is more a mini-LP (Old Gold) and is about cover songs more than originals. Her first album, self-titled, swept me away, especially the lonesome and folkie Never Be Fooled Again, a song about a girl who lost her father to life and the loneliness which ensued. It is a song immersed in tears as much as rain, an intense yearning for a father much loved but distant at best. Oh, but the love a father should have for his daughter… and the perpetual damnation for those of us who never had the chance…

Pieta Brown/One and All (Red House) (2010)— This album should not be as important as it is to me, but Pieta Brown blind-sided me with a few tracks from this album and it did not take me long to embrace them all. How apropos is it that the first was the opening song, Wishes Falling Through the Rain, a song which had better sound good on a rainy day or at least have some connection. It is, in fact, a gloomy look at the hope of love if not love itself. The whole album is not gloom and doom, though. It is full of hooks and melodies and twists and turns with always a look inward, made special by Brown’s unique phrasing and voice. I remember it was raining the first few times I heard this album and the rain has never stopped.

Dala/Best Day (Compass) (2012)— These two girls’ voices can melt butter, swear to God. Add to that a perfect sense of melody and harmony and you have music to bring you out of a deep hole or put you into one— same song. Swear to God. When I first heard them I thought, perfect for the pre-teen girl. See, they had this sense of young love lost I hadn’t really heard since the fifties and early sixties. Two beautiful voices, a matched set produced to perfection, and songs to rip your heart out. Or not. I have never come across music so juxtaposed to itself. Amazing. I could listen to these girls forever and the softer songs make rain l by themselves. Like Still Life, the closing song on their new Best Day album. Stunning. Absolutely stunning.

Word has it that these girls are up for three Canadian Folk Music Awards this year. I don’t know what they’re hearing but I don’t label Dalafolk. They’re more Pop. That’s okay, though. The more awards the better. If they don’t rake in some Juno nominations as well, I’m calling for an investigation.

I’m not all indie nor am I all rock and its cousins. One album (actually, it’s a double album) that I occasionally pull out is Richard Rodgers‘ Victory at Sea as conducted and arranged by Robert Russell Bennett. I’ve had a copy of this since I was in high school, having received one for Christmas one year. I can be thankful for parents who knew how much music meant to me and who knew better than to just buy albums for the sake of buying albums. Real thought went into this. Besides the thought that it would be nice to hear something around the house than rock ‘n’ roll.

Victory at Sea was one TV program the whole family could not get enough of. It was cool, the documentary style narration over high contrast black and white film of WWII. The music, though, was what really made the series. Rodgers was one of only a few modern composers who really did the trick when it came to mixing classical with film scores. I remember fondling the album jacket as I played side after side, flipping the gatefold jacket open and shut to the music. It would be years later when I would finally find out where Peleliu and Guadalcanal and Okinawa really were. By that time, they were embedded in my mind through what was presented on TV. I hate to say it because I now know what a horrible thing is war, but I truly enjoyed those broadcasts and especially the music which came with it. A remarkable music accomplishment right up there with Copland and Ives, to my way of thinking. How important is it to me? Important enough that I bought a backup copy years ago which has been seldom played, just in case.

A Friendly Reminder— The 18^th is almost here, Research Turtles fans (and would be fans). Starting that day, you can download all sorts of Research Turtles goodies including (and I hope I got this right) some Jud Norman demos. It is a perfect chance for you to grab on to some great music and hear a bit of what the process sounds like as it goes from head to final product. I have a handful of Jud’s demos on my computer and I have to say that I visit them almost as much as I do the finished albums because the guy has a touch when it comes to laying out tunes. For myself, it is not unlike hearing unreleased Beatles songs or outtakes to a Beatles fan. Some of Jud’s demos ended up on RT albums and when you hear what he took to the guys— sometimes just acoustic guitar and voice— you have to be amazed at what it became. Again, that’s the 18^th. What is it today? The 17^th? Why, that’s tomorrow! Remember, it’s FREE and that is a very good price! Here is the link!

Know what? It’s still raining and even though I could go on and on, I think I’ll quit now and enjoy it. With music. Maybe I’ll mull over how this world got so fucked up, maybe not. Mostly, I think I’ll revisit so much of the music carrying me through this life, fucked up or not. Coming soon, my picks for Christmas— not Christmas music but music worth giving or turning people on to. Ach! Those pesky prepositions. Mr. Daghlian would not be happy. Or maybe he would. He was a great teacher and one hell of a good guy. I hope he still is.

And would somebody please tell me what I did with my Picture the OceanCD? I’ve misplaced it and it is driving me nuts. I mean, I can listen to it on their bandcamp page (click here), but I want to take it with me on long drives. If anyone sees it, please let me know.

And now, some…

Notes….. Phoebe Bridgers just posted a link to a new track. Waiting Room is another step in a long line of steps she is taking toward establishing herself. I’m loving hearing the progress. Click Here to listen….. Australia’s Hannah Gillespie has been asking about Jarred Doueal lately— like who is he and why has he come out of nowhere with this beautiful song (via video). After listening, I’m wondering myself. This is the kind of music which can go viral. Watch here….. Speaking of Gillespie, have you listened to her All The Dirt album? It’s a freakin’ killer! I liken her voice a bit to Broken English period Marianne Faithfull, but that is being unfair to both Gillespie and Faithfull. They both are so much more. You can stream Gillespie’s albums on Bandcamp. Start with Tales From the Tote (Vinnie). It’s an ear- and mind-worm. Click here….. Speaking of All The Dirt, I’ll bet you didn’t know that it was produced by Ken Stringfellow and an outstanding and downright beautiful job he did. The guy works as hard as anyone in music and it shows. Like on his own brand new Danzig In the Moonlight album. You might remember Stringfellow’s name from The Posies or a later alignment of Big Star or a plethora of bands he has been in or played with. The guy is a music dynamo. You can check out his doings at his website here….. Whoowee! Buddy Sam Berger just hipped me to a site which has, archived, one hell of a lot of early recordings— “all public domain, all legal,” Sam sez. If you like tripping through the tulips, you may just love this! No rock ‘n roll, but gabba-hey!, cool stuff nonetheless. Click here and have fun….. Remember last week when I wrote a bit about Ray Brandes? Here is a video of a song he recorded a number of years ago: Black Cloud (Click here). Methinks it is time to do some digging around Brandes’ stash….. Once again, Keith Morris rocks us with video, this time a track from his Love Wounds & Mars album— check out Blind Man, edited by friend and fellow musician Paul Curreri. That makes, what, three (?) from that album? Good stuff! (click here)….. British Columbia’s Laurie Biagini should be awarded the Work Your Ass Off Trophy for the year. She has completed a string of songs for her soon-to-be-completed album (due out in January, Laurie?) and has been posting them as they are available. Here is the list of those posted thus far:

That’s a lot of recording. The new album is tentatively titled Sanctuary of Sound…..

Speaking of upcoming tracks, here are the demos of The Braam Brothers, many of which are on their new album Hail Violet. A bit of Power Pop, Rock and Crunch… with influences. Right up there with Filligar, but less boogie and more Pop. Check them out here. If that hits your fancy, as it does mine, you can download the completed album here….. Amy Campbell just announced that the beautiful red vinyl Letters Home albums have arrived. Now, I know that quite a few of you have pre-ordered it and I’m assuming that there are copies for sale, so if you want something very cool (Go ahead! Treat yourself!), this will do nicely. You can check it out at Amy’s website here….. I can tell you dig monkeys, so I’ll end this with a video of Ray Brandes‘ I Know You’re In Love Again. Good pop from an artist I need to more acquaint ,myself with. And did I mention that there are monkeys? Very cool. Watch here.

Frank’s column appears every Wednesday

“Frank Gutch Jr. looks like Cary Grant, writes like Hemingway and smells like Pepe Le Pew. He has been thrown out of more hotels than Keith Moon, is only slightly less pompous than Garth Brooks and at one time got laid at least once a year (one year in a row). He has written for various publications, all of which have threatened to sue if mentioned in any of his columns, and takes pride in the fact that he has never been quoted. Read at your own peril.”

This entry was posted on October 17, 2012 at 2:21 am and is filed under Opinion with tags Amy Campbell, Braam Brothers, Brian Cullman, Carleigh Nesbit, Cowboy, Dala, Danzig In the Moonlight, DBAWIS, Don't Believe a Word I Say, Frank Gutch Jr., Greg Laswell, hannah gillespie, Indie Artists, Indie Music, Keith Morris, Ken Stringfellow, Laurie Biagini, Nick Holmes, Phoebe Bridgers, Ray Brandes, Records, Research Turtles, Rita Hosking, Sage Run, Sydney Wayser, Victory At Sea, Zephyr, Zoe Muth. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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