And I don’t mean the band Journey recently inducted into the supposed Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. God knows what those clowns think when they make their choices but when I look at the possible choices they could have made besides those guys… well, I won’t go there. Let me just say that I understand when people are upset when I make such statements because they have a soundtrack to their lives as well, but this isn’t their column, is it? I look at it this way— Journey had hits, yes, and made CBS one hell of a lot of money, but they didn’t have an original bone in all of their collective bodies and you will never change my mind. Hall of Fame? Not even close. Not while the hundreds more deserving are locked out. Change that to thousands.
Archive for Angharad Drake
Frank Gutch Jr: A Journey and the Soundtrack to my Life; Angharad Drake’s New Album; The Big Bright In the Studio; Plus Notes…Posted in Opinion, Review with tags Alternate Root Magazine, Angharad Drake, Beth Ditto, Beth Garner, Blue Sky Boys, David Gogo, DBAWIS, Don & The Goodtimes, Don't Believe a Word I Say, fotheringay, Frank Gutch Jr., House of Records, Indie Artists, Indie Music, Jesse Ed Davis, John K. Samson, Journey, Larry Coryell, Leonard Bernstein, Mario Lanza, music, music videos, radio, Records, Red Foley, Road Runners, Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, Sandy Denny, segarini, Six Fat Dutchmen, Sweet Home Oregon, T. Texas Tyler, The Big Bright, The Live Five, The Moguls, The Record Company, Victory At Sea, Wes Swing on April 19, 2017 by segarini
My yardstick for music is a simple one. If everyone likes it, it can’t be worth a shit. Think Hitler as a rock star. He, too, had a following, though few would own up to being part of it after the finale. What is it that makes everyone so enamored with this musician as opposed to this other musician who is playing practically the same thing? Hell if I know. How does one become a hit overnight? Hell if I know. Why are people attracted to certain artists, en masse? You guessed it. Hell if I know. But I can goddamn guarantee you that while you are talking about the Lady Gaga halftime show, and my guess is that most of you talking about music are, you’re missing a few thousand musicians worth hearing, some of them playing music way outside the formulaic box the Gaga has built for herself. Taylor Swift? I love some of her songs but there are songs as good as that out there if you take the time to listen.
Nothing says Christmas like a curmudgeon and nobody is more of one than Jaimie Vernon which makes me wish I knew some of the stories behind his long career in music and, also, in life. Regaling you with tales of chicken wire and whoopee cushions would make this a lot easier to write— nothing like fart jokes to liven up your reading— but it is Christmas season and I must put aside the slings and arrows, as humorous as they might be.
Frank Gutch Jr: Earlier, On Planet Normanium (Part One)— Research Turtles Redux and Baseball As We Never Knew It; Plus N-n-n-notes!Posted in Opinion, Review with tags Angharad Drake, DBAWIS, Dead Horses, Don't Believe a Word I Say, Fielder's Choice, Fleetwood Mac, Frank Gutch Jr., Gooseball, Great American Canyon Band, Gypsy, Indie Artists, Indie Music, Jack Lee, Joe Norman, jud norman, KSHE, music, music videos, Normanium, Otis Clay, Peter Green, radio, Records, Research Turtles, Rick Norman, Robocobra Quartet, Rumer, segarini, Shook Twins, Starting an Earthquake, Sweet Home Oregon, Terry Manning, The Chicago Coalition For the Homeless, Thom Hell, Trevor Hall, Will Varley on November 8, 2016 by segarini
Some things just will not let go. Seven years ago I discovered the Research Turtles. For the last two, I had hoped for a reunion. I now know it will not happen. Even if they got back together, they would be a different band. They have grown as individuals and probably matured musically beyond that band and could never capture what they once had, but for five years I envisioned success and that period gave me hope in a world pretty much without hope, the music business morphing into something beyond my recognition, the Eks and the Westergrens of the world using what I consider stolen music to build huge bank accounts for themselves and others off of the labor of musicians. That Research Turtles do not today exist is not surprising, for who would want to hand their creations to someone else for a pittance while they made millions.
Frank Gutch Jr: Amy van Keeken & Timeloop Touring Western Canada; Spotify: The Boil On the Ass of the Music Industry; Plus NotesPosted in Opinion, Review with tags . Evie Sands, Adam Marsland, Amy van Keeken, Angharad Drake, Beachy Head Music Club, carl anderson, Daisy House, Daniel Ek, DBAWIS, Don't Believe a Word I Say, Doug Hammond, Duggy Degs, Elephant Revival, Filligar, Frank Gutch Jr., Indie Artists, Indie Music, Lisbee Stainton, Morphine, music, music videos, Nigel Godrich, Pacific Soul Ltd, radio, Records, Rob Martinez, Rumer, Sam Wilson, Schuyler Fisk, segarini, Shook Twins, Spotify, Sweet Home Oregon, The Green Pajamas, The Sundowners, thom yorke on October 4, 2016 by segarini
Lots of good stuff happening out there and it’s time we plugged in to some of it if only to counter the “real” musical happenings being covered by all of the sites who think that Kanye West canceling (or postponing) a show is news. I get it. No fun finding out your wife is being held at gunpoint. Just not headline news in my part of the world.
Frank Gutch Jr: Music Reviews On the Fly (and these are real beauties); Crushed Out Makes Their Move; Plus NotesPosted in Opinion, Review with tags Angharad Drake, Crushed Out, DBAWIS, Dead Horses, Don't Believe a Word I Say, Frank Gutch Jr., Green Pajamas, Indie Artists, Indie Music, Jay Pun, Jerry Castle, JJ Thames, Josh Farrow, Morwenna Lasko, music, music videos, Notary Sojac, radio, Records, segarini, Sweet Home Oregon, The Purdins, Tom Pacheco on August 9, 2016 by segarini
I review lots of records on a consistent basis and pretty much have a policy of giving each album/EP its due. Usually that means a solid ten listens all the way through with extras for the songs which strike home. The reason? I once listened to an album a couple of times and sent a note to the artist explaining why I could not give it a straight-out five star review. It was possibly the most pompous note I have ever written and one I wish I could have taken back. Ten or so listens later, I gave it that five star review I had so bombastically refused and pledged to give every album from that point on a fair chance— a real fair chance and not one based upon a needledrop (a term which refers to radio in the sixties and seventies when the single was king— disc jockeys and music directors would listen to the first few seconds of each 45 submitted for airplay to “weed the crop”, i.e. to eliminate the clunkers). What? You didn’t think the records charted themselves, did you?
…but I could never pull it together. Of course, when I was young I thought I was a musician, piddling with the tonette in fourth grade, drafted into the junior high band in the fifth grade because they badly needed a bass drum player, playing drums in what could be called a jazz band then (though we were really not good enough to be called that), playing drums in the high school band and in a couple of rock bands and carrying it on through college. I loved music and was always around it but I was never really a musician.