Frank Gutch Jr: Tania Stavreva; Sometimes It Takes a Choir; Plus Them Damn Addictive Notes

Time to bust outta this place, amigos.  Time to strike out into the unknown— well, lesser known— and visit city cousins, because we are definitely heading toward the city.  No Hoi Polloi allowed where we’re going—  nothing but royalty and coronation balls.  I would make a joke here but lowering standards is beneath us today, okay?  Today hamburger is not on the menu.  More like foie gras— to the more common among us, goose liver.  Not just any goose liver, though.  This is, like I said, foie gras, a mixture of specially fattened goose liver to please the palate if the mind.  And of the ears.

Frank Gutch Jr: Charlottesville Revisited (Revisited),

The reason Charlottesville is being (Revisited) is because I do believe that somewhere out there in the ether Charlottesville has already been Revisited and, hell, I am sure I confuse people often enough without reusing headers.  It would be akin to writing a book and naming all the chapters “Chapter One,” which, now that I think about it, is a pretty good idea.  But the second Revisited, placed in parentheses, separates the first from the second, does it not?

Frank Gutch Jr: Vinyl!!! Grab Yours While You Can Because Quantities Are Always Limited!!! (A Precursor to Christmas Giving), A Pac Northwest Discovery and a Half, and Notes…..

You can thank Chris Ashford at Wondercap Records for this preemptive strike on your Christmas lists.  You do have a Christmas list, right?  What?!  You don’t!  Well, maybe it’s time you did because that really cool gift you want to give your girl or guy or your best friend could very well be gone by the time time the turkey hits the table and the really mad rush begins (or, in the case of the States, continues).  What could possibly be the cool gift item this year?  A hybrid car?  If you’re rich.  A handmade macaroni-trimmed picture of you and the wife on the first date?  (If you want to kiss that sorry marriage goodbye)  A box of chocolates?

Frank Gutch Jr: Sheldon Gomberg: One of the Good Guys, Too Slim: Hot!!!, Charlottesville: WarHen and County Wide… The Phoenix Rises, My Father’s Day, plus Notes (you really should be reading them, you know)…..

I wasted 75 minutes of Sheldon Gomberg‘s time last week.  Do I feel crappy about it?  You bet.  I suppose 75 minutes doesn’t mean that much to many of you but then you probably don’t work as much as Sheldon does.  See, Sheldon is a recording engineer and runs his own studio and after talking with many of that ilk, time is always of the essence.  You’re working when you’re not working— going over the day’s session(s), preparing for tomorrow’s, organizing, always organizing.  What?  You think those albums just appear on your shelves?

Frank Gutch Jr: Who’s Who In Rock Music, Maxi Dunn & The Lost Art of Arranging, Bryce Larsen Steals Jane (Again!), and The Lonely Wild…..

I sit at the desk a partial human being once again, the throat still coated with viscous fluids and the chronic hacking reduced to a wheezing irritation of the I-think-I-can variety (irritating but not life-threatening).  I am drinking Royal Crown Cola (as opposed to the preferred Crown Royal) to reduce viscosity, the mind is somewhat sharp though I could easily use another eighteen hours sleep before writing this (I have been waking at 3 A.M. these past few nights) and wonder how far I will go before losing energy and direction.

Frank Gutch Jr: Grown in Charlottesville, An Early Look at Rounder Records (via Warner/Reprise and Peter Stampfel), and Notes…..

When I first started getting into music, really getting into music beyond AM radio and the string of hits I always thought was everything music, there were three cities.  Only three.  Los Angeles, Chicago and New York.  Those were the three graced by the large offices of the major labels and those were the three which produced the vast majority of music which made it to the airwaves.  Or so it seemed.  Isolated in Oregon (and trust me, kiddies, it was isolation), the world looked so simple and yet so daunting, even on AM radio.  Generalizations were common.  Vocal groups all came from or at least came out of New York City.  Soul was courtesy of Detroit and Chicago and Detroit.  Surf music was West Coast and sand-infested.  Country was all Bakersfield or Nashville.  But they all were filtered through the Big Three:  Los Angeles, Chicago and New York.  That’s where the major labels lived.  That’s where the money was.  That was where artists went to make it  big, no matter where they originated.

Frank Gutch Jr: Sometimes it’s About the Music and Sometimes it’s ALL About the Music….

…and today, I’m in the ALL state of mind.  What got me into this mood were two CDs I received in the mail fairly recently:  Winterpills‘ All My Lovely Goners and Lisbee Stainton‘s Go.  I am reluctant to say that I receive albums like this all the time but the truth is, I do.  Maybe not this good and maybe not with regularity, but I get them all the time.  There is so much good music out there that I can’t even begin to keep up, and that’s with my ignoring the major label, who hardly need my help to spread the word.  Are these two special?  They must be because I don’t think I’d feel right if I didn’t write about them quickly and in depth.  This is the quickly.  I shall save the in-depth for reviews.