Frank Gutch Jr: It’s Gone, Man… Real Gone; Plus Notes That If You Blink, You Might Miss

 

I know, I know.  I was the one screaming the loudest and the longest about local news hyping first the Microsoft system upgrades and the the latest iThing of the moment, but this ain’t no news program and I am promoting this for a reason.  I try to get you guys interested in music, which isn’t always easy, and the I have to listen to the “there ain’t no good music anymore” and “it’s all been done before” excuses.  Well, here we are, then.  I have some music for you which not only precludes the music that was good before good became bad, but it’s on sale.  That’s right.  Until October 2^nd, Real Gone Music is pumping some of my favorite music, this time not of the day but of the past.  Sale items are CDs, folks.  Whether you like them or not.

Frank Gutch Jr: Dave McGraw & Mandy Fer, Danny Schmidt, and Susan James— I Can’t Stand the Silence; plus Notes (and an apology to David Olney)…

I am being steamrolled.  It is a conspiracy, or maybe just the herd instinct.  What is the herd instinct?  That is the terminology we used when I used to work in retail records when for half an hour people would mill around the store until one came to the register, at which time those remaining followed.  We would check out three people in half an hour and suddenly there were fifty people standing in line.  Today it would be called WTF?  Then, we chalked it up to the herd instinct.

Frank Gutch Jr: Random Thoughts On a Rambling Past (Plus Notes)

I watched/listened to a short clip of a Jim Dawson concert this past week.  Most of you don’t know the name, I am sure, but Dawson was at the forefront of my obsession with records back in 1971 and his Songman album is a treasure I would not part with except to Dawson himself.  He was part folkie as were so many back then— the beginning of the real singer/songwriter movement— and experimenting with layers of sounds.

Frank Gutch Jr: O Canada: A Nod to The Great White North— (and more of them goddamn notes)

 I am a lost Son of Canada.  I must be.  I love Canadian bacon, though bacon it not really be (except maybe technically).  I love Jennifer Dale, an actor who deserved much more than she has been afforded,  respect-wise (I reveled in her work on Canadian TV and film during Comcast’s all-too-short span of including CTV and CBC on their cable lineups in the ’80s).  I love Due South, one of the most creative and funny-on-so-many-levels series TV has ever created (the transition of Ray to Ray— David Marciano to Callum Keith Rennie— a work of pure writing craftmanship).