Frank Gutch Jr: On Writing About Music

 

It isn’t easy.  To most of you it must look that way.  Six, eight paragraphs about a band or an album, a few videos picked up off the Net.  Two hours, tops.  On the columns which didn’t go so well, maybe fifteen minutes (and a six pack of beer, after re-reading a few of them).  But it isn’t easy and it takes me a lot longer than you might think.  There have been times I’ve written five drafts and finally submitted the sixth out of pure frustration.  Three, four days and not a thing to show for it.  And then there have been the three hour jobs—- the ones in which I elucidate about the days of transistor radios and Fender amps (they were king when I was young).  Unfortunately, those are few and far between.

Frank Gutch Jr: Skyboys Redux— Live at The Fabulous Rainbow! Mark Lindsay Redux! Plus Notes

But first, some incredibly sad news.  Jim Manolides no longer wanders among us.  Jim had been a longtime stalwart of Pac Northwest music, having played with James Henry & The Olympics, Dave Lewis, The Frantics, and Jr. Cadillac, among others.  In addition to having played music in the Northwest for decades, he was also looked upon as a music historian of repute.  I mean, he had been around since almost the beginning.

Frank Gutch Jr: I Got Blistuhs on Muh Finguhs!!! (Plus Notes)

… and I’m looking for trouble because that’s just what you have to do sometimes.  Tributes and covers are sucking the soul right out of me and probably out of the goddamn entire world but you soulless bastards have no clue!  This whole I-got-to-see-the-best-bands and there-ain’t-no-good-music-anymore attitude is killing the listening floor (screw the dance floor) and I’ve had it up to my neck with the I-don’t-like-today’s-music-so-fuck-you memes on the social media and threads in the forums to the point that I’m thinking hell could not be a worse place to live— at least compared to this musical rotgut of a world we live in today.

Frank Gutch Jr: The World Had Paul Revere & The Raiders, But the Pac Northwest Had Paul Revere & The Raiders!!!; Halloween (Because Life Must Go On); and Those Ever Popular Notes…

I would have placed a few more exclamation points behind the header but that would be overdoing it and while Paul Revere would occasionally go over the top, it was usually onstage.  No doubt about it, Paul Revere & The Raiders lead the all-Pac NW rock ‘n’ roll team, no disrespect to the likes of The Wailers, The Sonics, The Frantics and other bands of their era, nor to Heart and Nirvana and Soundgarden and others of the more recent past/present.

Roxanne Tellier: MonkeeMania! Part Deux

Critics called them “The Pre-Fab Four,” but a generation of little girls understood. Those of us coming into puberty, who had been just a little too young to have had fantasies about The Beatles, now had our very own super group. The Monkees were cute! They were funny! And really – could this quartet be more non-threatening? The worse that could happen would be that Davy might not get the girl … but he always did.

My best friends and I would loll around for hours, listening to their latest record, buying every copy of 16 Magazine and TIGER beat with a picture of one of the boys on the cover, and of course, watching the show every Sunday night. We’d squeal on the phone about their rumoured escapades, and dream of some day meeting a real live Monkee.

Frank Gutch Jr: Sweet Relief III: Cover Songs I Can Get Behind, Even In The Midst of This Covers/Tribute Glut… And If You Want Covers, I Have Some Right Here In the Hall Closet (Crash! Bang! Boom!) Plus Notes…..

If you understood the reference to the hall closet, you are a fossil like myself and ready for the wood heap.  Better start taking Geritol again (the Stone Age’s answer to Centrum).

It is a strange world in which I find myself these days and not one I am particularly fond of, especially since supposed music lovers (and the media) have jumped on this covers/tribute thing like it is more than a fad (it isn’t, at least the way in which the music is being approached).  I laugh— no, I guffaw— at the idea of bands bowing at the feet of other bands, thinking that signs of obeisance gives them any kind of credibility in the real world of music and musicians.

Frank Gutch: Lost Sounds Montana: Mining Gold… Time For Dinner: Michael Dinner, That Is… A Night at the Bombs Away With Rich McCulley… And Notes…..

History?  A waste of time?  I have heard that said way too many times over the years.  Admittedly, most of those years were academic years.  I loved the time I spent in school, elementary on, and even considered taking classes at the University of Washington during my tenure at Peaches Records back in the eighties (for fun, not for credit).  There is something about the smell of a campus, be it major college or small technical school, which makes my heart beat a bit faster.  Just the act of learning changes things for me and I love watching people expand their horizons— in positive ways, of course.

Frank Gutch Jr: Michael Fennelly, Chet Flippo, Mark Lindsay, and Notes…..

I laughed out loud the other day when Michael Fennelly commented that his daughter used to claim that when he hit the high notes, even dogs couldn’t hear him.  I mean, kids can be your toughest critics but she may have been right because he has one of those voices that rides the jet stream at times— rock’s answer to bluegrass and country’s high lonesome, if you will.