Yesterday I went through all of the private messages I’d shared with Frank Gutch Jr, since I’d first encountered him. It was in 2013, just after I’d begun writing this weekly column, and right from that first message, it was as though we were separated at birth.
I met Danny Schmidt at The Sisters Folk Festival nine years ago. He had invited me to attend, though I am sure he forgot it right away. I know I surprised him. My first words to him as he passed by to play a set in a tented area were “The Longhorns suck” which brought the Look of Death for Danny was and is a fervent Texas Longhorn fan, him having grown up in Austin and all. I realized my mistake right off. He had no idea who I was, having never seen me before. And it wasn’t his best day.
In all my years in music, I never worked for a label. I wanted to. But I wanted to work only in A&R. Artists and Repertoire. They were the people who found the artists, who were liaison between the artist and label management, who groomed the performers and worked with them on the songs for their albums and maybe just the direction of focus. I knew a few A&R people in L.A. They loved it. They wouldn’t have done anything else. Most of them, when their A&R gigs ended, got out of the business because it was a sewer everywhere else. Sales? The pits. Promotion? Real work. Management? A path, most of the time, to disaster. I mean, A&R was where the adventure was. And is.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 