Frank Gutch Jr: Music To Stuff Stockings By… And With; Plus No Notes… Consider It a Lump of Coal

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.

Frank Gutch Jr: Emitt Rhodes; Why Bluegrass Needs Gold Heart; Is Getty Images the Spotify and Pandora of Photography; Plus Notes…..

 

Emitt Rhodes is not a god, but he is as close as anyone I have found, in music at least.  To me, he is right up there with Buddy Holly, Elvis, Paul McCartney and the other musicians people seem to want to elevate to godlike status.  Decades ago I wrote a short piece comparing Rhodes’ albums to McCartney’s first solo album, largely because they each chose to play all of the instruments, and, well, McCartney did not fare well, but that is just me.  Become a superstar and you had better produce like a superstar and while McCartney did become one and hasn’t produced, Rhodes never even had a real chance.  His music, though?  Quarter notes through the heart.  No, he is not a god, but he is among the best of the humans.

Frank Gutch Jr: While Most of Us Talk, Some of Us Do— Grass-Tops Recording; Record Store Day Goodies; Media and Politics— The Hot Topics Are Nothing New; Plus Them Incredible, Edible Notes

Don’t look now, kiddies, but in spite of all the mumblings and grumblings of a plethora of naysayers, the music industry is reinventing itself.  Not at the top, of course, where one (Universal) or two (are any others left?) keep eating the detritus remaining from the Great Music Holocaust of the late-90s and early-2000s.  Rather than change the model, executives at the various major labels would rather go down with the ship, hopefully while clutching that pot of gold in the form of those golden parachutes being handed out by corporations which claim to lose money but which seem to be able to find millions enough to buy out contracts of those leaving the fold. (How do you spell bribery these days?)  They hang on, but not because they are competent.