Frank Gutch Jr: Scott Boyer: A Message In the Wind; A Repeat About Vinyl; and Them Tasty Notes

Scott Boyer has died.  Since the summer of 1971 I have been spouting his name— his and Tommy Talton‘s and Bill Pillmore‘s and Tom Wynn‘s and George Clark‘s and Pete Kowalke‘s (now living and still playing music under his not-so-new moniker, Peter Giri). They called themselves Cowboy and were a six-pronged country rock outfit out of Jacksonville who signed with Capricorn Records right after The Allman Brothers Band— indeed, signed because of The Allmans.  I say Jacksonville because that is where they settled as the band was forming.

Frank Gutch Jr: Between Assignments? A Look at a Few Bands Which Weren’t, Really… Or Were They? Plus Them Nefarious Notes

I was looking through the Book of Face pages the other day and ran across a post about The Sidewalk Scene.  I remember them, friend Ray Brandes having been a frontman for them how long ago?  Two years so?  Three years?  The post linked to a page which showcased four studio-produced tracks, all jangly and sixties-oriented.  Music, in fact, that I remember fondly.

Frank Gutch Jr: They Shoulda Been Contenders… And, Per Usual, Notes…

Funny.  We always remember the stars, the champions, and we always place them at the head of the class even if they were no more than a part of one.  This last weekend I spent an inordinate amount of time pondering what the music world would have been like if, say, Led Zeppelin had not become gods to so many and Hendrix and Clapton and Beck had not headed the infamous “best guitarists” lists outfits like Rolling Stone Magazine always roll out when they have nothing else to capture readers’ attentions (seriously, how do you compare Tommy Emmanuel, Eric Clapton, Christopher Parkening, and Phil Keaggy— all exceptional guitarists, all deserving of attention from most who really love the instrument and yet living in completely different worlds.

Frank Gutch Jr: Loose Ends, Even Looser Ends, Paige Anderson & The Fearless Kin, Green Monkey Christmas, and Those Pesky Notes (to which you should really pay more attention)…..

It’s 3:30 in the morning and I can’t sleep and part of it has to do with Spotify.  Not Spotify specifically, but all of the music subscription services that have come along since digitization:  Mog and Pandora and Rhapsody and Sony and others.  What set me off was a musician who posted on Facebook that maybe you should log on to Spotify and check out a certain artist.  Why would that set me off, you ask?  Because I have just recently turned my back to such “services”.  Because if they are a better way to find music and artists, they are also cutting off the hands that feed them.  The hands of musicians and the hands of songwriters ans indeed the hands of all involved in the musical process, for it is a process.

Frank Gutch Jr: Sacred Cows of Music, Indies You Don’t Want To Miss, Tom House, The Fire Tapes, A Reminder About Jon Gomm’s Upcoming Canadian Tour and Notes, Notes, Notes…..

I follow Jaimie Vernon on Facebook not because he has anything to say (kidding, Jaimie) but because he has a way of pushing buttons that bring out the worst in people.  When he’s pissed or maybe just  mischievous, he can bring out more of a knee-jerk reaction than an “I Love Obama” placard at a Tea Party convention.  And he did.  Last week.  I can’t quite remember what he posted originally, but I do remember the responses, many of which make me shake my head.  They weren’t pretty.  His response to those was a bit of an I-get-this-kind-of-asshole-response-every-time-I-post-something-not-glowing-about-the-(insert iconic idol here).  In other words, he, like myself, does not love The Beatles just because they were The Beatles and God forbid he make such a statement public.