Pat Blythe – This is not about COVID……and music

This column is usually about the clubs, the music, the bands, the nightlife and the denizens of Toronto who haunt those places. The clubs are shuttered, the live music has stopped, bands are silent and the nightlife…..well there isn’t any. Yes musicians (solo or otherwise) are busy streaming on any platform possible. Artists from the around the world record themselves in isolation and then join together via video to perform, Brady Bunch style. All around the world people are trying to keep everyone’s spirits up as we sit, isolated in our homes, many alone, having had no physical human contact in almost three months.

Pat Blythe – All That Jazz – Part III…..the photographers…..and music

I am completely, unequivocally lost in the world and the power of jazz.

Call it a little pre-spring cleaning but tidying up I found, tucked away in among my vast collection of British history books, (okay, one large floor to ceiling bookcase) was this wonderful coffee-table book on jazz. Unfortunately I cannot remember who gifted me this gem but I thank you. Photographed by the late Toronto-based photographer John Reeves, Gene Lees Jazz Lives encompasses 100 portraits of jazz musicians from around the world. The forward is a brief but concise history of jazz. The following pages are gorgeous portraits of the individual artists and a short history of each.

Pat Blythe – Eyes on the prize….Speak Music….and music

The eyes are windows to the soul. A rather romantic and idealized thought. Whether that’s true or not, at the moment mine are not…..at least temporarily. No matter how hard we work at it and struggle, our bodies, inside and out, begin to crumble as the years pile on. On the whole, we (as in all of you and me) exercise (okay somewhat), we try and feed our body good stuff (jujubes and chocolate don’t count!), we drink in relative moderation (I’m outta ice cubes and mint again!) and, well, the air we breathe…..that’s out of our control and so is the aging process.

Pat Blythe – Until next year be safe, be happy, have fun……

This week of December 8 has got to be one of the craziest weeks yet this year and the month just keeps getting busier. Special functions to attend, birthdays, a show, baking, shopping, writing, editing, decorating, cleaning…..the list goes on. In the middle of this maelstrom I have to spend an entire afternoon at the ophthalmologist and another afternoon hanging around my doctor’s office (annual checkup). Time spent away from the computer and other “duties” is keeping me up until the wee wee hours of the morning.

Last week was all about the music of Christmas. Heading down that rabbit hole I learned about, and listened to, some amazing music while researching and selecting the tunes for the column. I’m not sure there’s much more I can add.

Pat Blythe – OMG….Radio Free Universe….ONE WORD…..and music…..

Well…..for the first time in 4.5 years I am at a loss as to what to write. It’s not that I don’t have any ideas…..it’s not writer’s block. The challenge is I have too many ideas and am overwhelmed with all the other activities in my life. I like busy, then there’s crazy busy and then there’s insanely busy. I’ve reached the insane level. Not just professionally but personally….OMG, my house!! Yards need to be addressed with the rake and the lawnmower, bushes trimmed, planters cleaned out (I have managed to cut most of my herbs and they are now drying), porches swept and so on.

Pat Blythe – Mariposa …Final Hours, Melody Makers …and Music!

Today is a “schlep day”. One of those days when you roll out of bed two hours later than you wanted after a fabulous night listening to some funky, smooth jazz courtesy of Eddie, Quincy and Tre-Michael Bullen along with guests saxophonist Rob Christian and bassist Etric Lyons (Kush).

Your feel hit the floor and you wonder if anyone got the number of that truck that just sideswiped you as you stumble into the shower and just stand there.  One look in the mirror and those racoon eyes tell you the makeup didn’t come off last night before you fell asleep and the hair…..oh lord…..the hair….. Soaped and rinsed, schlep day means no bra, no makeup, one extra extra large t-shirt, feet up and coffee in hand…..I ain’t fancying up for nobody. Now it’s time to complete my weekly music musings.

Pat Blythe – Diversions, Julian Taylor Band, New Drums …and Music!

It’s Tuesday yet again. Apparently it repeats itself every six days. Bugger! This means it’s column writing day and I am not remotely focused on the task at hand. This could mean a ridiculously lengthy dissertation or stupidly short piece of nonsense. We’ll see where this one goes??

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.

Roxanne Tellier – We All Loved You, Frank Gutch Jr – Tributes, Tales, and Tears

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.

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.