Holy shit! I am practically crying, the music gods are being so good to me. Just discovered a band which is killing my brain cells and making me enjoy it! They are called The Claudettes and are out of Chicago and I am in love! Lordy, I must have somehow done something really really good. If I could only figure out what it was…
Archive for Banners Raised
Frank Gutch Jr: Rockin’ the Universe with The Claudettes, Rich Krueger, Gris-de-Lin, Tobias the Owl, Jerry Castle, Banners Raised, Andrew Ryan, Larkin Poe, and Stop Light Observations… Plus Notes
Posted in Opinion, Review with tags Andrew Ryan, Banners Raised, Birch Pereira & The Gin Joints, Bobby Messano, Cam Newton, DBAWIS, Don't Believe a Word I Say, Filligar, Frank Gutch Jr., Gris de Lin, Indie Artists, Indie Music, Jaimie Vernon, Jerry Castle, Jim of Seattle, Larkin Poe, music videos, Notary Sojac, Records, Rich Krueger, Russ Solomon, segarini, Sheldon Gomberg, Stop Light Observations, Sweet Home Oregon, The Claudettes, The Game Played Right, Thom Bresh, Tobias The Owl on March 6, 2018 by segariniFrank Gutch Jr: Thompson’s and Chrystalship: The Changing of the Guard; A Video Guide to Boulder’s Zephyr; and A Short String of Notes
Posted in Opinion, Review with tags Banners Raised, Boulder, Cargoe, Caroline Cotter, Chris Cacavas, Chrystalship, Contrails, DBAWIS, Don't Believe a Word I Say, era for a moment, eugene, Frank Gutch Jr., gary heffern, Goblin Market, Inara George, Indie Artists, Indie Music, Jane Gowan, Joseph Maxwell, music, music videos, Parsonsfield, radio, Records, Rheostatics, Ron Prindle, segarini, Shelby Carcio, Steve Wynn, Sweet Home Oregon, The Bush League, The Game Played Right, The Real Shade, The Tillers, The Violet Archers, Thompson's Record Mart, Tim Vesely, tommy womack, Whitney Rose, Zephyr on February 13, 2018 by segariniThe first record store I ever frequented was in Eugene, Oregon— Thompson’s. I wanted to put “Record Mart” behind it but I am not sure how they labeled themselves. A building on the north end of the city, not too far from Skinner’s Butte, it was small, square and as I remember it, white, with large storefront windows behind which racks of records were displayed, mostly 45s, a small wall of listening booths, and stereo equipment— lots of it. I have no idea how I found out about it, being a small town boy who hardly ever visited the big city (and to me Eugene was big and a city), but I found myself one day, after much begging and emotional pyrotechnics, entering this Taj Mahal of vinyl. I remember it like it was yesterday.