Frank Gutch Jr: The Second Time Around….

Editor’s Note – When I promised that Frank would always be here, I wasn’t kidding. In the weeks to come you will be introduced to one of Frank’s closest friends, whose writing will be presented here, as well as co-writes with Frank, and some of Frank’s work which has never been seen in these pages. The rest of the time on Tuesdays Frank’s original columns will be reproduced here, in the order in which they originally appeared, starting with this one…his first.From September 7th, 2011.

They say life is better the 2nd time around…Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr Frank Gutch Jr….

Frank Gutch Jr: Dad Gave My Dog Away (A Look At Letting Go); A Music Tsunami (The Real Shade, Wilson Marks, Diane Patterson, Rich DePaolo, and— holy mackerel!— The Green Pajamas!); and The Irrepressible Ricky (Okay, Not Ricky, But We Got Notes, By the Gods!)

 

My dad?  Give my dog away?  Give me a break!  My dad was the coolest when it came to animals, though he didn’t want them unless it was necessary.  Sure, he caved when we were kids and begged and begged a dog, one my sister named Putsy after Slim Gaillard‘s hit Cement Mixer Putty Putty, but it wasn’t his choice.

Frank Gutch Jr: My Morbid Yet Sanguine World

Someone once told me I was eccentric.  I laughed out loud because I am the least eccentric of any people I know.  I am, in fact, so normal and middle-of-the-road that I occasionally label myself boring.  I am.  Boring, that is.  I am a puddle of mediocrity in a pool of ordinary.  The jack of all trades and master of none.  Neither the dimmest bulb nor the brightest.  Plain yogurt.  A one dollar bill.  I am as exciting as baseball in the off-season and Christmas in July.  I have been the second choice of too many girls to recount (Gosh, Frank, if it wasn’t for— insert name here— it would be you) and the tenth choice on a team of nine.  I write because I have no other talent.  I am the sponge which lives vicariously.  Even the kids who love me abandon me when they are old enough to realize…

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: Consider These Reruns (Glimpses From the Past); Plus Notes of a Lugubrious Nature

Looking back has become a thing of the present lately.  It began when I felt a guilt sneak over me because so many of the artists I have written about have seemingly passed their buy-by date.  The listening public, it seems, only want the past in terms of oldies or the classics. God forbid they should let the music decide for them.  Add to that my inability at times to come up with fresh subject matter and a nostalgic bent and it seems the logical choice.  It is doubtful that many of you have read many of my columns from the distant past and those who have probably have lost the gist.  So why not visit the past here and there?  I have gleaned through many columns and have picked a handful of segments I believe will be of interest to a wide variety of readers.  Let us start with one overlooking the Pac Northwest, titled…

Frank Gutch Jr: Answering the Questions, Where Do Houseflies Socialize; You Only Believe Me When I’m Lying; Rolling Stones Magazine’s 100 Greatest Guitarists of All-Time? Seriously?; Plus Notes

The world doesn’t always go my way and sometimes I get so pissed about that that I have to vent.  GodDAMN if the world isn’t going the way of idiots and psychopaths as the Trump Generation attempts to destroy everything good, but I will be damned if I will let it happen to my music.  That’s right.  My music!  Sure, you have your music— The Beatles and Floyd  and Queen and even Beyonce and Kanye and whoever the hell else.  YOU don’t have to worry.  YOU can find that music and plenty of people who still love that music just walking down the street.  Me, I have to work for it.  I have to scrounge and search and listen and question at every turn.  You think that’s easy?

Frank Gutch Jr: Angharad Drake Plays the Corner Lounge; Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers’ J.D, Wilkes Circa 2008 (But Still Oh So Relevant); and Notes You Won’t Be Able to Get Out of Your Head…

Tomorrow night, Nanaimo, it all goes down.  The very first Canadian performance of Australia’s folk-rockin’ Angharad Drake, and boy do I wish I could be there.  Drake has been bending ears down in Oz for the past few years and is slowly developing a following as loyal as anywhere on the musical scene.  No SXSWs or Bonnaroos for her.  She is working her way up from unknown, but those will be part of her circuit next time around.

Frank Gutch Jr: The Bluest Skies You Ever Seen: A View, Not a History, of Seattle Rock Music; Plus a Couple of Notes…..

And it’s my view.  It won’t mention Heart except to say that I knew their days were well past when they became a tribute band (and it was long before The Kennedy Center performance) and it won’t mention Nirvana because, let’s face it, Nirvana has already been mentioned enough (Okay, I might mention them once).  I might mention Perry Como, though, because he had the hit with those lyrics and I might mention Bobby Sherman (just for the hell of it).  I will mention many artists and bands of evidently little consequence outside of that fair city because I certainly do not hear them mentioned by people outside the Pac Northwest (by the people I know, anyway).  But first, should you think Seattle a mere backdrop for movies and TV programs, let us look at what the youth think, and before you start pounding the keyboard in protest, I have not vetted the information and don’t really care (though having lived in Seattle for over thirteen years, I can attest to the fact that everyone does love Dick’s… Drive-In, and how can you not love the fact that they have a train/trolley called the SLUT).  I’m just glad to see the youth making this attempt:

Frank Gutch Jr: Lady Gaga? Really? How About the Real Women in Music?

My yardstick for music is a simple one.  If everyone likes it, it can’t be worth a shit.  Think Hitler as a rock star.  He, too, had a following, though few would own up to being part of it after the finale.  What is it that makes everyone so enamored with this musician as opposed to this other musician who is playing practically the same thing?  Hell if I know.  How does one become a hit overnight?  Hell if I know.  Why are people attracted to certain artists, en masse?  You guessed it.  Hell if I know.  But I can goddamn guarantee you that while you are talking about the Lady Gaga halftime show, and my guess is that most of you talking about music are, you’re missing a few thousand musicians worth hearing, some of them playing music way outside the formulaic box the Gaga has built for herself.  Taylor Swift?  I love some of her songs but there are songs as good as that out there if you take the time to listen.

Frank Gutch Jr: Getting Your Fa-La-La-Las (Christmas Compilations & Suggestions); Plus Notes

Nothing says Christmas like a curmudgeon and nobody is more of one than Jaimie Vernon which makes me wish I knew some of the stories behind his long career in music and, also, in life.  Regaling you with tales of chicken wire and whoopee cushions would make this a lot easier to write— nothing like fart jokes to liven up your reading— but it is Christmas season and I must put aside the slings and arrows, as humorous as they might be.