Frank Gutch Jr: Three Noteworthy Reissue Labels Mining the Gold… and Silver… and Copper… and Tin… plus Notes

Music used to be all about hits, and before that, artists, and before that, publishing.  Recycling music was written into the process from the beginning, but when the LP came along, recycling became a way of life.  To be fair, early reissue albums were not reissues at all but were what they termed “budget” discs, a term also applied to albums of “generic” music by artists of little known or unknown cachet.  Labels such as Harmony and Pickwick and Design once filled drug store racks with albums of dubious distinction, filled with either deep tracks of a popular artist or tracks by bands put together in the studio to recreate hits of the day.

Real reissue albums (or those which would qualify by today’s standards) were either handled by the labels themselves or on a case-by-case basis, those cases being relatively few.  In the eighties (or was it late-seventies) Columbia Records, for instance, developed a “mid-price” line which they filled with deep catalog albums and albums brought back from the vaults.  Most major labels of the time followed suit.  Some labels, such as Rhino Records, made their reputation off of reissues.  (If they gave us nothing else, they gave us William Stout‘s excellent Rocky Rhino, which never fails to make me laugh or, at the very least, smile)

I could go into a complicated history of labels and reissues, but that is not the purpose of this column.  What I want to do is introduced you to labels run by people so engrossed in the music and so dedicated to it that they pump money into what is, if they’re lucky, a break-even proposition.  If they are lucky enough to make a profit, more times than not they pump it right back into the opreation because, as those in the business know, there is always another album calling from the vaults, begging reissue.  They cannot deny it.  It is in their blood.

Today, companies are set up specifically to handle the best of the past and the oddities no one seemed to find when they were first issued.  I have picked three to study, each one of them handling their business and choices a bit differently, each one of them covering areas the others aren’t, though there are overlaps.  Pay attention because these labels, well-known to vinyl freaks and record enthusiasts, fly mostly under the radar in today’s world.  And each one is a world unto itself.

Sundazed Records…..

is probably the largest of all reissue labels, at least as regards the States.  Bob Irwin worked for a number of major labels, remixing and restoring vault items for the CD format— some of which had been somewhat ignored over the years.  As a result, he had numerous connections to albums which are today regarded “classic.”  He started the label with wife Mary in 1989, showing his personal choices by releasing CDs by The Knickerbockers and The Five Americans— bands which I loved during their actual existence.  Things picked up steam and the next thing you know, Sundazed was a destination label for the many artists and fans who craved the music (and oddities) of the past.

If you love the oddities, Sundazed goes out of its way to give them to you, from unreleased tracks to alternate versions to the occasional collector’s item such as glossies of various bands, etc.  Do you have to buy them ears-unheard?  Of course not.  Irwin, music freak that he is, supplies samples on many of his catalog items, such as a history/sample page of The Five Americans‘ tracks recorded before their hits, circa ’64-’66 (Early Americans).  You have to pay close attention, though.  Evidently, formats are fluid and depend upon availability.  For instance, Early Americans is available (according to their website) only on LP, as is a limited edition of the band’s I See the Light album in mono.  Other albums are available as CD and some are downloadable through iTunes.  (An aside:  If you really dig the band, you have to check out the Americans’ Michael Rabon‘s book, High Strung— *available here*— personal memoirs which will give you amazing insight into the life of a sixties pop star— and it ain’t anywhere near what you think).

Ever hear of a sixties band called The Millennium?  Their one album, Begin (available at this time on both vinyl and CD formats), was highly sought after by collectors, it having that floating semi-psych pop sound that so many people love but play hell to find.  I remember the album but until Sundazed reissued it it remained a mostly unheard album for me (I had heard only the occasional track and then, only in passing).  When I finally heard it in its entirety, I was blown away at its beauty.  How The Left Banke reached astronomical heights in terms of popularity in later years while The Millennium is mostly looked upon as afterthought is beyond me.

So this is how cool Bob Irwin is.  He worked out a deal with Michael Fennelly, one-time member of The Millennium (and Crabby Appleton and Big Shot, among others) to release an album of oddities and outtakes.  The result, Love Can Change Everything: Demos 1967-1972, is as cool as it gets, featuring songs laid down as demos and some which were finished tracks just left off of albums by both The Millennium and Crabby Appleton.  I know what you’re thinking.  They were left off for a reason.  Maybe so, but these are as good a bunch of tracks as made it onto those classic albums.  And having them available is way cool.  Available on LP and CD, while supplies last.  (Another aside:  I am presently attempting to talk Fennelly into an interview wherein I hope to find out the truth behind the various bands of which he has been a part.  If and when it happens, I will post about it here)

Never heard of The Leathercoated Minds?  Don’t feel alone.  It was an early project put together by the people at Snuff Garrett‘s company in the sixties and featured producer and guitarist J.J. Cale as well as Leon Russell and Roger Tillison and Terrye Newkirk.  This, from the pages of Sundazed:

In the annals of sixties West Coast exploitation album-making, A Trip Down the Sunset Strip by the Leathercoated Minds is in a class all by itself. Serving up radically rearranged, cool covers of the era, red hot guitar instros (courtesy of producer J.J. Cale), and authentic sound effects from the Strip, it succeeds as the perfect time capsule of Los Angeles’ teeming teen scene, c.1966. From the pristine Viva Records mono master tape.

Newkirk mirrors that assessment, writing “It was strictly an exploitation album to capitalize on the Sunset Strip/hippie/psychedelic phenomenon. It was Cale’s project, released on Leon’s and Snuff’s label. Just another of the constant stream of studio projects that went on at Leon’s, from Pat Boone to the Electric Prunes. If it weren’t for the fact that John was friggin’ genius on the guitar, no one would remember it at all.

Know what I got out of that?  Cale was a friggin’ genius.  If you want a period piece of hippiedom, this does nicely.

Back in the sixties, there was this outstanding radio station I listened to all the time— KGAL out of Lebanon, Oregon.  One afternoon, a band walked into their studios and said, we have a single.  The disc jockey immediately had them brought into the control room, slapped the 45 on the turntable and spun it without even having given it a listen.  The band was out of Fresno and called The Road Runners.  It was a killer track and by the time I got over to Lebanon the tiny record store there had sold out.  I looked for that single for years and finally scored a copy.  Titled I’ll Make It Up to You, it had everything The Grass Roots‘ Ballad of a Thin Man (Mr. Jones) had— punch, great vocals and an organ sound I couldn’t get enough of.  You know where this is going, right?  Yep.  Sundazed not only found the single but a whole album’s worth of the band.  It is only available on vinyl right now, sports fans, but I suggest if you don’t already have one, it’s time to invest in a turntable.

I’m working at a record store in Seattle and this guy calls and asks if anyone knows anything about High Tide.  I say, sure, I have their albums.  Well, this is Simon House, he says, and could I talk with you about the possibility of re-releasing Sea Shanties?  He just wanted to know if I thought there would be any interest.  He came in and we talked and he left, never to be heard from again, at least by me.  To my knowledge, it was not re-released at that time, but Sundazed was smart enough to add it to their catalog.  Weird stuff, but perfect for the fans of Hawkwind, a band House joined after High Tide disbanded.  (Sample Sea Shanties here)

Garage fans should know about We The People, Central Florida’s entry into the sixties sweepstakes.  These guys owned the teen circuit up and down the Florida coast for awhile and you can’t help but understand why after hearing the two albums available on Sundazed.  We missed them entirely in Oregon but I caught up to them in the eighties when their albums began to be reissued by the odd UK labels at the time.  As much as the Pac Northwest’s Sonics and Wailers and Raiders (the early lineup), these guys drag me back to the sixties and the teen dance and armory circuit.  Again, vinyl on the single album (CD, too) and CD only on the double-disc.  Watch your format.

I asked Tommy Talton, WTP guitarist and vocalist, what he thought of the Sundazed issue.  I have heard the Sundazed compilations, he said.  Every release from Sundazed on We The People I have heard is of high quality.  No complaints there.  The biography “booklet” that was part of the dual CD Mirror of Our Minds release was right on with the history, much more so than one normally sees in the world of entertainment hype surrounding bands and recordings.  It is truly unimaginable, the attention that We The People continue to receive and amazing that the group is still talked about and listened to after all these years.  It certainly is a fine compliment to all of us involved and something I am very glad to have been a part of.

Click here for Wayne Proctor’s take on the Central Florida Bop of the sixties…

Morly Grey?  I had never heard of them until a few years ago when my pal John Hicks told me about them.  Another of the great lost 60s/70s bands which got past me, so I had to rely on Johnny to fill me in.  Here is what he wrote:

An essential slice of locally grown Ohio hard rock with both psychedelic and prog influences. A top shelf rarity amongst serious collectors for years, that actually lives up to the hype, with some great playing and arrangements.

Leave it up to Sundazed.  Right there in their catalog.  Think crunching progrock.  Here you go…..

My God, I look through this site and get weak in the knees, there are so many albums I would love to have, or even hear.  Incredible String Band and The Merry-Go-Round (is there a  better pop song than Time Will Show the Wiser?) and Shadows of Knight and freakin’ Southwest F.O.B., fer Pete’s sake!  And the LPs (meaning vinyl)?  The Byrds and Jefferson Airplane and Mike Bloomfield (including Super Session) and The Paul Butterfield Blues Band— lots of Butterfield!  If you like this kind of stuff, you owe it to yourself to go to the Sundazed site and hunker down.  I promise you, it won’t be a short visit.

These Cats Are Real Gone…..

I was going to say Real Gone Records here, but they call themselves Real Gone Music and they are.  Real gone, that is.  Gordon Anderson and Gabby Castellana had just put two impressive music operations to rest (Collector’s Choice Music and Hep Cat Records, respectively) and decided to soldier on, tilting at musical windmills together rather than separately.  Real Gone was born.

Which eased the pain of seeing two sources for good music dry up.  Collector’s Choice had supplied me with many sixties reissues I treasure (most notably, a reissue of the 1973 album by Fort Worth legends Space Opera, complete with pamphlet insert which answered many questions fans had had over the years) and I followed Hep Cat religiously, scouring it for recent and vintage jump and rockabilly titles.

That black hole I expected when those disappeared has been filled with titles I wondered if I would ever see or hear when this wonderful world of digital’s promise of availability of anything and everything turned into the typical major label bottleneck with only a few small outfits really paying attention to the music.  When I first heard about Real Gone, a quick scan of the titles had my heart pounding and palms sweating (and bank account dwindling).  Luckily, I got help and am now in remission.  Kind of.

This label has gone out of its way to find the gems.  Allow me to take you through a few, alphabetically because that is how they are listed in the catalog.

Amazing Rhythm Aces— Here is a band which made it but didn’t.  They originally signed with ABC Records, scored with a single (Third Rate Romance) and then dropped just beneath the radar for a number of albums which sold but not enough.  Add to that financial difficulties created by a manager who absconded with funds while not paying bills and the band was a corporation ready to crumble.  To their credit, they didn’t.  While the legal storm winds blew, the band continued doing what they did so well, creating music (while paying off debts).  They were legend when I got to Seattle in 1978, popular enough to pack out The Paramount with no label and no support.  Their strength, if you have not heard them, is country soul.  Yep.  They were doing it decades before this latest craze came along.  Real Gone has in their catalog a double-album-on-one-disc and beautifully remastered CD of the band’s first two albums, Stacked Deck and Too Stuffed to Jump.  Classic stuff.

Cat M other—  True story.  I was hanging out at the House of Records in Eugene one night when someone came into the store and said that Cat Mother was going to play an unannounced show at the Roman Forum that night (the Forum was a favorite venue for personal local favorites Notary Sojac).  We decided to make a party of it. To make sure we had a table, Frank Vignola (who co-owned the record store) and I decided we would go down early.  We got there about five and started drinking.  By eight, when the band came in, Frank had vomited all over our tables and the bartender had stopped taking our money (though the beer continued to flow).  By the time the band plugged in, we were beyond ready.  First note on, Cat Mother ripped the place apart.  It was a party.  Highlight of the night was Albion Doo-Wah, the title track from their second album, an instrumental which rose and fell like ocean waves in a storm.  A night I will never forget.  And an album which will have to be pried from my cold, dead fingers.

Clover— Did you know that this band was responsible for Huey Lewis?  Well, not responsible, but were key to bringing Huey into the limelight.  See, Clover was this four man band working the bay area back in the early seventies and scored a recording contract with Fantasy Records.  They put out two fine albums (one self-titled and the other Fourty-Niner) but got little response from radio, so they opted out for England.  While there, they added Huey Lewis to the mix (or maybe they took him with them— I really don’t know or care) and the die was cast.  When the band returned to the States, guitarist John McFee would join The Doobie Brothers, Huey Lewis would read The News, and Alex Call would co-write Tommy Tutone‘s 837-5309/Jenny and life would be good.  For myself, life was good before they left, thanks to the two albums on this reissued disc.  They do an understated version of Wade In the Water on that first album which knocked me out the first time I heard it.  It still does.

Cowboy—  To me, there will always be two Cowboys— the original six-man band who recorded Reach For the Sky and 5’ll Getcha Ten, and the later band formed around the core of guitarists Scott Boyer and Tommy Talton.  Right after that second album was recorded, the original lineup scattered but left behind the aofrementioned albums which I consider among the best in Country Rock.  Real Gone went out of their way to make sure these were put together with respect.  I am thrilled to see these finally available on CD!!!  On a more personal note, I have done interviews with the six members of the original band and plan to write a story of the band’s existence through 5’ll Getcha Ten.  It will set to right what really happened on their trail to and time with Capricorn Records.  (Yet another aside:  I found Cowboy after struggling through a one-year, nine-month, two-day, four-hour and thirty-five minute sentence in the Army,  I remember more than one night sitting in the living room of the old house in which I then lived listening to The Wonder over and over and over again until the sun brought light.  For myself, it was soul-cleansing.  And much needed.)

Brotherhood—  Remember Paul Revere & The Raiders?  The Kid (Drake Levin)?  Fang (Phil Volk)?  Smitty (the drummer)?  Well, right after the Where the Action Is lineup split, those three formed a band called Brotherhood and signed a recording deal with RCA.  Two albums resulted, plus a third I knew existed but had no clue as to what it was— an album under the name Friend Sound/Joyride.  Well, here are all three on a two-disc set.  I always liked these guys but understood why radio would not play them.  Hell, by that time, AM had gone Top Thirty (they thought forty was way too many) and underground radio was just beginning.  I remember riding over the bridge to West Seattle when I was in the Army around ’70 or ’71 and seeing a reader board sticking up from beneath advertising a Brotherhood gig.  I wish I had gone.

Fanny—  The first female rock band to rock my world.  To my old girlfriend, Fanny was among the few things which made me worth being around.  In the early seventies, she was enthralled by the female artists of the day— Carly Simon, Carole King, Joni Mitchell, Judy Collins, and even Megan McDonough (she gave me credit for buying McDonough’s albums but not for appreciating them)— while I was buried beneath the pile of little- and unknowns I was accumulating.  When I brought home Fanny, she softened her tone regarding my maleness— for about a week.  I dug these ladies.  The title track from their second album, Charity Ball, even got airplay in Eugene.  All five people who cared probably bought it too.  They deserved better, and Real Gone has made sure they got it.  It’s not about the female.  It’s the music.

Timi Yuro—  I was so in love with Yuro’s Hurt when I was young that I would have bought an album just to hear what else she could do, but I couldn’t find one.

Bob Crewe— There seems to be a bit of controversy over his life choices now that Crewe is gone, but my God, what a career!  The guy was not only a musician but was a master decision-maker!  Real Gone put together a 2-CD collection of all of his Elektra Records recordings.  Good move.

Hank Thompson— Before Nashville took over everything, there were artists like Hank Thompson who lived off of a great country sound and a regional TV show.  This guy WAS country when he was young and remained so throughout his entire life.  Hall of Fame stuff.

Rick Nelson—  After Rick left Decca/MCA, he did some recording for Epic Records.  One album and an EP made it to release, but there was a lot more in the can and Real Gone brings it out.  41 tracks, many alternate takes or previously unreleased in the States.  This is what reissue labels do so well.  (While the following video shows Rick and band playing to support his Capitol album, Playin’ To Win, he re-recorded the track in Memphis, that version on Real Gone’s The Complete Epic Recordings)

Joanie Sommers, Jody Miller, Hackamore Brick, Mason Williams, Rod McKuen, Shoes, Terry Knight & The Pack…  Peggy Lipton, fer chrissakes!  Man, these pages are loaded!

The label is gone, man, Real Gone!  And ready for perusal.

And Now (Sounds) For Something Completely Different…..

Have I already told you that you don’t start a reissue label to make money?  Oh sure, you don’t start one to lose money but there is something beyond the financial that drives people to reissue albums.  They are a breed apart, in it for the music way more than the money.  To varying degrees, of course.  Steve Stanley at Now Sounds is probably at the deep end of the pool when it comes to idealism as regards the whole thing.

I only release records I would want to buy, he said when I asked him for a look under the hood.  I want to champion the artists that have been forgotten by time but stand the test of time. The artists on Now Sounds range from household names—Janis Ian, Mamas & The Papas, Association, Dion, Del Shannon—to the obscurest of the obscure, like Paul Parrish and the Sixpentz. But I believe they are all outstanding in their own way, and deserve to be reappraised.

Some reissue labels today will seemingly release ANYTHING, every month, without any consideration of what they’re putting out beyond thinking they can sell a few thousand units. It’s like they’re selling produce or something… I long for the days when record labels had personality and a mission. A SOUND. That’s the legacy I want to leave behind for Now Sounds.

He backs up the sentiments with his releases.  Like he said, he covers big names as well as the lesser-knowns, but you can tell he takes pride in his oddities.  Like The Parade, a seeming one-hit wonder band out of L.A. and which included as sidemen many of the recently famous Wrecking Crew (Segarini says you have got to see the documentary, it’s that good— and crucial to the understanding of the music of the sixties).  Basically comprised of three musicians— Murray MacLeod, Jerry Riopelle, and Smokey Roberds— they hit AM gold with Sunshine Girl, a song many look at as the first of the great Sunshine Pop hits.  I also remember them for a song titled The Radio Song, pop much in the style of the aforementioned hit, which got massive airplay in the Willamette Valley of Oregon.  That Stanley even knew about these guys says something about his passion.

Before Brewer & Shipley vaulted to the top of the charts with One Toke Over the Line, they were (to me) mainly the source of what I thought was a hit by The Poor, a track titled She’s Got the Time (She’s Got the Changes).  It wasn’t until years later when I left Oregon that I found out it was barely a blip on local radio charts.  Thank the gods for KASH in Eugene.  Anyway, when I found out Brewer & Shipley had an album before Tarkio Road (the album from which One Toke was culled), I was curious.  I found a copy of Down in L.A. in the cutout bins in Los Angeles, bought it and became an even bigger Brewer & Shipley fan than I already was.  When you hear the tracks below, you will understand.

Three albums by The Cowsills grace the Now Sounds catalog— Captain Sad and His Ship of Fools, Awake In a Dream: The Project 3 Recordings, and The Cowsills— Expanded Edition— the Expanded consisting of the tracks from the Cowsills’ first album plus eight bonus tracks sourced from original mono tapes.  If you missed my column about The Cowsills, I recommend you read it here or find an alternative source because their history as a family and a band is both intriguing and disheartening as well as fascinating.  You cannot listen to these songs without attempting to understand the circumstances around which they were written and recorded.  I didn’t give them much credence until I saw their documentary, Family Band, but I do now.  Here is the trailer for that film.  I suggest picking up a copy of the DVD if you can’t find it elsewhere.  It will freak you out.

Most who listened to radio in the early seventies remembers Five Man Electrical Band.  It seemed at times like every station in whatever town you were in was playing Signs every ten minutes.  That first album sold very well, indeed, but the real treat on Now Sounds’ reissue of that album, Half Past Midnight: The Staccatos and Beyond, is the inclusion of nine tracks by the band when they were known as The Staccatos— classic sixties like you can’t believe.  How the US missed Half Past Midnight is a mystery.  As good as it got back then.

MC Squared?  Never heard of them either, but Stanley evidently (what do I mean, evidently) has.  And so had Hugh Hefner (and Barbi, by golly!) (That is Barbi, isn’t it?).  Now Sounds pieced together tracks from this, to me, totally obscure band, though it was a period band of consequence.  Shades of Jefferson Airplane.  Features Jim Keltner on drums— in his early years.

As if MC Squared wasn’t odd enough, Stanley plucks two artists whose albums I had seen in used record and cutout bins what seem like millions of times.  No one (at least, no one I knew) ever took the time to listen to them, possibly because of the quantities available. (Music is mental, you know)

Paul Parrish put out an album of what was supposed to be psychedelia-infused songs and, in retrospect, he did.  Of course, the purists looked upon it as record company pap, the production way more than what they would have had.  How wrong we were (yes, I was one).  After hearing this, I have to wonder how many other artists I missed due to prejudice on a musical scale.  They call The Forest of My Mind psychedelic pop these days.  It fits the music to a T.

And there is Ruthann Friedman.  How the hell I did not put her together with The Association and Windy, I will never know.  I loved The Association.  For a time, I listened to them incessantly.  What I’m saying here is that Friedman wrote it.  Windy, that is.  What I have learned from Now Sounds is that those Friedman albums I always wrote off as nothing were way more than nothing.  They just didn’t get the chance they deserved.  Here is Friedman’s version of what became a #1 hit for The Association.

It wasn’t a fluke, either.

Do any of you fossils remember Donna Loren?  She was a regular on Shindig, it appears, and was a spokesman(lady) for Dr, Pepper, a drink which shall never again pass my lips (a story for another time and place).  Think Beach Blanket Bingo meets mainstream.  Another Wrecking Crew-infused album.

Let me end this by saying that reissues are not just for old folks.  True, I knew most of this music when it was cutting edge, but it is now a part of the historical landscape— of the record business, of radio, of past pop culture.  It can be adventures in music.  We can thank people like Steve Stanley and Bob and Mary Irwin and Gabby Castellana and Gordon Anderson for it.  These guys vet the music, make sure it is as good and as honest as it can be, before passing it along.  Check out some of these artists and the sites mentioned above.  They have the Great Gutchola Seal of Approval.

Know what?  Life is good because I actually have some….

Notes…..  Gawdamn!  Joelle May at ModMay Promotions, who has channeled some of my favorite albums of the past few years my way (Petunia & The Vipers, Picture the Ocean, Miss Quincy & The Showdown, among others) has done it again!  In my mailbox today, a link to one Skye Wallace, a denizen of Vancouver BC and one impressive musician, let me tell you.  In terms of style, she skirts many.  In terms of voice and songwriting, she freaks me out.  A bit of soul, a touch of swamp, a teaspoon of 50s, a dash of folk.  She does it all and all within the confines of who she is.  No playing with genre and playing to the crowd in terms of what they want.  Just good, honest music.  Her last album was released April of last year and it is a freaking killer!  (listen here)  Hopefully, the announcement of a gig in Toronto at the Dakota Tavern on March 19^th is a precursor to something new?  We can only hope.  Click on the link (her name) above for a listen to the entire Living Parts album.  For those who won’t, surely you have time to watch and listen to a video of a track from that excellent (yes, I said excellent) album.  Here you go:

I have to get this off my chest.  I just sat through two hours (counting the typical commercials) of Hallmark’s Good Witch kickoff to their new position as series (as opposed to serial movies) and I’m miffed.  I was there neither for the movie nor the actors but for the music.  Canada’s Dala had two songs used for background music.  The first, an excellent song titled Anywhere Under the Moon, was incidental music in a restaurant/bar scene and I understand the short shrift given to it, but I cannot forgive the people who put the music together for tossing Still Life under the bus, especially when they had an opportunity to turn the last scene into a real grabber.  Let me set the scene.  The husband of Cassie (the witch, played by Catherine Bell) had died and the scene takes place somewhere important because they dedicate a “wing” to him, placing a plaque in a strategic place.  The scene, in fact, was a memorial.  What they did instead of making that scene commemorative was to shorten the scene to evidently what time they had left and play the song beneath a ten-second shot of Bell standing next to the plaque before fading out in a panic (or so it seemed to me).  The song is beautiful, and I mean beautiful, and could have added legs to what wasn’t all that bad of a start to the series.  Instead, they gave it a hatchet job, probably without even realizing the impact the song could have made on the end of the first chapter of what they obviously hope will be a successful series.  I hope someone at Hallmark reads this and tells whoever was responsible for the shoddy job not only on that segment of the film but on the editing of that last scene— a funereal scene which was far from funereal— that if they had taken a second to actually review what they had done before airing the film, they may have just added a few viewers who were watching for the curiosity of it.  Instead, they inevitably walked away with a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am taste in their mouth and, unless they want to watch television dropped to the level of Tea Party Murcans, will most likely not return.  What is it about people who work in the media and their lack of respect for music?

And wouldn’t you know it?  No video for Still Life.  So let me substitute Good As Gold, which is not Still Life but is as beautiful and should give you a good idea what they could do at a memorial.

Speaking of reissues, why isn’t anyone picking up on Joanie Pimentel‘s pre-No Small Children band, Superhoney?

I found it!  A few weeks ago, Aussie Luke Sinclair (Raised By Eagles) sent me a link to that band’s new single, Jackie/Honey.  I told him to remind me, but if his computer is as screwed up as is mine, he couldn’t find my message box.  Well, I finally found it and wanted to pass it along because this is a damn good song— a slight hint of Dire Straits with a RBE punch.  Treat yourself.  Click here.

The word from David Jukes of down under’s Millar Jukes & The Bandits is that they will be working on a new album, hopefully to be released in August.  They presently have an EP you can listen to and purchase through iTunes (click here).  Good stuff.  Here is a video of a song  from the EP.

I found Nocona through drummer Justin Smith (and cohort-in-crime Kim Grant) who used to be the drivin’ wheel behind old favorite Old Californio (who Justin says will eventually put out another album).  Guess what?  Nocona has a new album on its way and it’s Preorder Time!  You can do so by contacting the band at their site (click here).  In the meantime, this is what you will be helping to support.  Take it, Chris!

And as long as we’re Jammin’ In the Van, here’s one of my favorites.  Jams in the Van, that is.  Ladies and Gentlemen— Filligar!

And to prove that all is right with the world in spite of  seeming insanity of politics, that video took me to this brand spanking new video which has been done to support a brand spanking new Filligar album, Keepsakes of the Interior!  Like Hannibal Smith, I love it when a plan comes together!

=FGJ=

Frank’s column appears every Tuesday

Contact us at dbawis@rogers.com

“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.”