Frank Gutch Jr: Music Millennium: Still Weird After All These Years; Meet Sid Hagan; Plus Them Glorious Notes

It plays like a loop in my head, the first time I visited Music Millennium. I remember the drive to Portland from Eugene, parking down the hill on East Burnside, the walk up the street and even opening the door. Had I filmed it, it could not be any more clear. I had been in many record stores before— in  fact, the guys with me were all denizens of Eugene’s House of Records— but this was different. This was the famed Millennium, the seller of imports, the mecca of what record stores should be as far as many of us were concerned. Tower Records may have had stores open at the time (it was the summer of ’72, though I have been saying ’71 for years and have only recently discovered my mistake) but the Pac Northwest didn’t know it. Why should we have cared? We had the Millennium!

Frank Gutch Jr: Thoughts on Big Star, The Little Band That Wasn’t Until One Day, Forty Years Later, It Was; Plus Updates and Voluminous Notes of a Lugubrious Nature

It was a epiphanal moment, one where an aura engulfs something or someone with angelic choir background.  In this case, it engulfed the first two albums released by new and tiny Ardent Records: Cargoe‘s self-titled classic and Big Star‘s #1 Record.  I held them up and asked Gary Haller, co-owner of Eugene’s now famed House of Records if they were any good.  They looked good, the slick glossy covers showing artsy pictures of the bands, the neon Big Star sign classy in an Andy Warhol sort of way.  “Dunno,” Gary replied.  “Nice artwork, though.”  I brooded over them for the next hour or so, pulling other records from the racks to read liner notes I had already read numerous times, hoping that this time I would find inspiration.  To buy.  To listen.  To covet.

Frank Gutch Jr: Not Rolling Stone’s Top 100

I just took another stroll through Rolling Stone’s list of 100 Greatest Guitarists.  I do so occasionally just to remind me of what a fools errand such lists are.  I realize that it sells “magazines” (are they a magazine these days?), people being suckers for Top of’s of 50 Best’s if for no other reason to compare choices with theirs.  Jimi Hendrix?  Sure.  #1.  Jimmy Page and Jeff Beck?  Automatic Top Ten.  James Burton and Buddy Holly?  You have no choice but to throw in the originators on occasion.  John Fahey?  Can’t leave out the cool artist who never really sold in terms of the numbers necessary to chart.

Frank Gutch Jr: Part 1 of 2 Starting with Notes!

Frank Gutch Jr: Due to circumstances beyond our control, you will be getting my column in two segments this week.  I had the Notes ready to go but last night had to deal with a kidney stone the size and shape of the original Batmobile, and I am not talking the model.  I was just about to take a sharp spoon and attempt to dig it out, kidney and all, when the pain slowly subsided and I was allowed some rest. 

Frank Gutch Jr: It’s Almost Spring! Let Us Celebrate With a New Alcoholic Faith Mission Album and Baseball!!! Plus Notes…..

Yep.  Denmark’s Alcoholic Faith Mission is releasing a new album, their first in three years, and it’s a beaut.  This column, in fact, originally started as a tribute to the band and its run but, as usual, life got in the way (my brain stopped functioning) and I promise a future column will go into the band’s history as well as numerous videos they have produced over the years.

Frank Gutch Jr: 10 Ways Devon Sproule & Paul Curreri Can Kick Your Ass…..

Devon, you have no idea the trouble you have caused me over the years.  Since hearing your most excellent Keep Your Silver Shined album back in 2006, I have been a slave to your music.  I have written about it and promoted it and played it in the shower.  I have taken your music for long romantic drives and have used it as background music for romantic dinners.  I have listened to it, all of it, enough to have made it part of my DNA and I have even adopted the Smokey Mountains, though mountains they hardly seem to a guy who grew up at the base of the Cascade Mountains in Oregon.  That old Virginia block?  My heart broke when you deserted it.  You had me convinced that you would never leave the Blue Ridge.  I mean, you sang about it!