It’s that time of year again, sports fans. Santa has been on the radio for the past two months, robot disc jockeys and purveyors of everything muzak beating us senseless with varying renditions of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree and Jolly Old Saint Nicholas, hoping to lighten our mood enough to loosen the old purse strings. Hallmark Channel have kicked into full Christmas mode, plastering their channels with their cookie-cutter movies which vary mostly by the changing of leading ladies (this year’s favorite, by far, is Hilarie Burton, whom I saw in an old Castle episode and was floored by not only her beauty but the fact that the casting could not have been more right). I wish they had more creativity over at Hallmark, their overuse of the five plots and rotating stars coming very close to consumer abuse. But, hey, I’m a sap.
Archive for Kip Boardman
Frank Gutch Jr: Darth Radar? The Dirty Gospel? Bragging Rights? Music Is Even Better Than I Thought!… Plus NotesPosted in Opinion with tags Anna Cordell, bill jackson, Chris Ashworth, DBAWIS, Don't Be Afraid to Pogo, Don't Believe a Word I Say, Frank Gutch Jr., Fur For Fairies, Green Monkey Records, Indie Artists, Indie Music, Jay Pun, Jeff Kelly, Jim Basnight, John Wicks, Jon Stickley Trio, Kate Burke, Keith Morris, Kip Boardman, Lawrence Bray, Lisbee Stainton, Madisons, Moberlys, Morwenna Lasko, music, Music Radio, music videos, Nelson Bragg, Paul Hood, Records, Ruth Hazleton, segarini, Steel Derrick Records, Susannah Espie. Liz Springer, Susanne Kelly, The Crooked Numbers, The Gears, The Meyce, The Sonics, Toiling Midgets, Wondercap Records on August 18, 2015 by segarini
New and impressive albums are piling up on me and I have been on a listening tear. I cannot even imagine how far you are behind. Way behind, if you’re still giving time to The Beatles and Led Zeppelin. I would have thought you had memorized those by now. Like our fearless leader Bob Segarini is always saying, there’s more great music out there than ever, whether you choose to believe it or not. Set yourself. This column skims what I think are the best and most overlooked over the recent months. Starting with…..
Rock ‘n’ roll radio. There was nothing like it. It was fresh and exciting and exposed teens to a whole new world beyond their doorsteps. If the fifties had cracked the egg, the sixties had spilled the eggs guts. All over the place. Humpty Dumpty magnified. Omelet City.
I hadn’t been in L.A. a month when I met Chris Ashford, a skinny, gangly high school kid who was bugging people on the sidewalk of Wilshire Boulevard handing out flyers for rival Music Odyssey, the store three doors west of Licorice Pizza where I had just started working.