But before we get started, it’s time once again to plug one of my favorite bands of all-time— those crazy elementary school teachers who change into demonic rockers at night: No Small Children. Coming off of a successful run playing the title tune from the movie Ghostbusters II, they pluck another rocker out of the air and it’s a beaut! Lay back (if you can) and listen to what the percentage of us not tied to our iThings are hearing. I Feel Better!!!
Archive for Scott Fraser
Frank Gutch Jr: T Bone. Got it? He’s from T exas… Glenn Patscha To Release Ten Year Old Album Because It’s a Killer!…plus NotesPosted in Opinion, Review with tags All Fires the Fire, Alpha Band, Anna Cordell, Bob Dylan, Brian Cullman, Chet Flippo, Clive Davis, David Bullock, DBAWIS, Death Hoax, Don't Believe a Word I Say, Donovan Woods, Frank Gutch Jr., Gilmore Girls, glenn patscha, Guy Clark, Indie Artists, Indie Music, Lloyd Sachs, music videos, No Small Children, Obscura Hail, Ollabelle, Phil White, Radney Foster, Records, Rollin' Thunder Revue, Scott Fraser, segarini, Songs from the Jefferson Highway, Space Opera, Sweet Home Oregon, Sycamore Creek, T-Bone Burnett, Tamara Saviano, the curtis mayflower, Whistler Chaucer Detroit & Greenhill on February 14, 2017 by segarini
I just took another stroll through Rolling Stone’s list of 100 Greatest Guitarists. I do so occasionally just to remind me of what a fools errand such lists are. I realize that it sells “magazines” (are they a magazine these days?), people being suckers for Top of’s of 50 Best’s if for no other reason to compare choices with theirs. Jimi Hendrix? Sure. #1. Jimmy Page and Jeff Beck? Automatic Top Ten. James Burton and Buddy Holly? You have no choice but to throw in the originators on occasion. John Fahey? Can’t leave out the cool artist who never really sold in terms of the numbers necessary to chart.
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.
I was sitting here navigating the social media this past week when I noticed a rockumentary I thought I had seen before— one on Ed Dougherty, who had headed up Oregon’s connection to rock music back in the sixties, booking acts both local, regional, and national in the Pacific Northwest. I was sure I had seen it, having written about it in more than one of my columns, but I was feeling nostalgic and took the plunge anyway.