Pat Blythe – Dear Frank

Preface …..

The loss of Frank Gutch Jr. has affected so many people both in and out of the music industry. For many, it’s a deeply personal loss.

Frank was a prolific writer and reviewer and there weren’t enough hours in the day to accomplish whatever he wanted to do. There was always a new artist, brand new music or a new release from someone he was following. His dedication was and is unbeatable. His love for the music and for those who created it yet went unnoticed who, in his estimation, should be world famous by now and “why weren’t they?”  There was absolutely no one like him. Irreplaceable, unique, exceptional, matchless…..Frank would blush, lower his head and say he was just doing what he loved and believed in. (I can hear his “aw shucks”) and then change the subject. He had an intense and genuine curiosity about other people’s lives and not only loved hearing about them but in many respects took great joy in living vicariously through all of us.

Frank Gutch Jr: Classic Rock— Not As Classic As You Might Think; Plus, In Keeping With the Theme, Notes of a Classic Nature

 

I would love to gather all of the music directors of so-called Classic Rock radio stations in the Roman Coliseum and turn the lions loose.  I was around long before the term Classic Rock was even phrased and as big a fan of rock radio as there was and I learned to hate everything radio tried to do after big money came in with all of their ideas to make radio “better.”  I suffered through a number of formats from the time of “Boss” radio to the present, the only one being worth a shit (to my mind) being Underground.  Ah, the days of underground.  I remember returning from the Army to Eugene and radio station KZEL and being floored with evening sets by The Wasted Potato (I think his name was Gary Parmentier) like War/Four Cornered Room, The Temptations/Masterpiece, and Funkadelic/Maggot Brain, back-to-back-to-back.

Frank Gutch Jr: My Memories of Capricorn; Plus Notes

Guy walks into the barracks, tosses a couple of albums on my bunk and it is a benchmark moment.  You’ve heard it before, probably too many times, but it happened.  The albums?  The Allman Brothers Band‘s first album and Steve Young‘s Rock Salt & Nails.  Both lodged themselves permanently in my collection and in my heart.  Young’s was to take awhile but the Allmans’ was immediate.  From the first note of Don’t Want You No More, I was hooked.  Desert island time.  Hall of Fame.

Pat Blythe: PFT

Well……….. I’m about to head to the wilds of Vancouver Island with NO computer! Nope, not bringing either of the two laptops. No siree Bob. (no pun intended) Just my “not so smart” phone. Well, maybe the tablet…maybe. I’ll be attending a couple of music festivals on opposite ends of the Island.

Pat Blythe: K-Pop and other stories

During a recent conversation on writing and music I was asked if I had ever heard of K-Pop. My answer was “no” although I was tempted to say “of course” me being a music junky and all. I’ve been told I don’t get out enough so I’m working on that. In the meantime…

Frank Gutch Jr: Jack Bruce Is Gone and the World He Inhabited Will Soon Be Gone Too; Prediscovering Elliott Randall— Still Reelin’ In the Years; The Mess That Was ‘Baker Street’; and them freakin’ Notes you just cannot live without…..

Jack Bruce is dead.  Long live Jack Bruce.  And long live the musical era he lived in though that will soon be dead, too.  As dead as Bix Beiderbecke.  As dead as Glenn Miller.  As dead as Frank Sinatra.  As dead as … well, you get my drift.

Frank Gutch Jr: No Small Children Smoke Portland Oregon’s Slabtown; Johnny Mabbott and The Doors Tribute— Slapdown at the High School; Highlight Bomb— Well Hidden, But Why? plus Notes…..

After last night’s No Small Children gig, drummer Nicola B made a statement I have been waiting to hear for the past couple of decades.  Remarking about the previous night’s show in Seattle at The Central Tavern, she said that they had “turned the room.”.  Basically, it means that while, at first, no one paid much attention, by the last song, everyone was on board.  Even dancing, she said (quite enthusiastically, I might add).