Frank Gutch Jr: The Second Time Around….

Editor’s Note – When I promised that Frank would always be here, I wasn’t kidding. In the weeks to come you will be introduced to one of Frank’s closest friends, whose writing will be presented here, as well as co-writes with Frank, and some of Frank’s work which has never been seen in these pages. The rest of the time on Tuesdays Frank’s original columns will be reproduced here, in the order in which they originally appeared, starting with this one…his first.From September 7th, 2011.

They say life is better the 2nd time around…Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr Frank Gutch Jr….

Frank Gutch Jr: The Non-Science of Record Collecting; A Tip o’ the Hat To Dave Gray (RIP); and a short look at the Notes…..

I’m cleaning out portions of my record collection, or what is left of it.  At one time, I had over 10,000 albums (according to a friend who spent a couple of days counting them).  Over 10,000!  I woke up one day and realized that no one in their right mind would have that many, which brings me to the now-occasional columnist for DBAWIS, Darrell Vickers.  I am sure he has over 10,000 which proves that mental imbalance runs in his family.  He is the perfect dumpster for many of the albums I still have and will be a recipient of a few.  I kid, of course, because for both of us, record collecting has been and still is, in his case, an adventure.

Frank Gutch Jr: Answering the Questions, Where Do Houseflies Socialize; You Only Believe Me When I’m Lying; Rolling Stones Magazine’s 100 Greatest Guitarists of All-Time? Seriously?; Plus Notes

The world doesn’t always go my way and sometimes I get so pissed about that that I have to vent.  GodDAMN if the world isn’t going the way of idiots and psychopaths as the Trump Generation attempts to destroy everything good, but I will be damned if I will let it happen to my music.  That’s right.  My music!  Sure, you have your music— The Beatles and Floyd  and Queen and even Beyonce and Kanye and whoever the hell else.  YOU don’t have to worry.  YOU can find that music and plenty of people who still love that music just walking down the street.  Me, I have to work for it.  I have to scrounge and search and listen and question at every turn.  You think that’s easy?

Frank Gutch Jr: John ‘Buck’ Ormsby: Maybe Out of His Tree, But Never Out of His League; Plus, Artists Who Should Have Made It (A Musical Roundup)

This morning was cold and wet with a chill that went to the bone, the clouds threatening, the rain off and on but somehow consistent.  I knew it would be.  Yesterday, my friend John Hicks had posted a message that Buck Ormsby had died.  No way, I thought, because I had had contact only a few days previous— just a note, but contact.  When I approached Hicks, he said that he had found out from Ormsby’s son’s page.  He sent me the link and there it was.  We are sorry to report… and the words became a blur.   While it hardly seemed possible, Buck was gone.  Is gone, for none of us will hear from him again and that is truly a sad thing.

Frank Gutch Jr: Daisy House— An A&R Dream

In all my years in music, I never worked for a label.  I wanted to.  But I wanted to work only in A&R.  Artists and Repertoire.  They were the people who found the artists, who were liaison between the artist and label management, who groomed the performers and worked with them on the songs for their albums and maybe just the direction of focus.  I knew a few A&R people in L.A.  They loved it.  They wouldn’t have done anything else.  Most of them, when their A&R gigs ended, got out of the business because it was a sewer everywhere else.  Sales?  The pits.  Promotion?  Real work.  Management?  A path, most of the time, to disaster.  I mean, A&R was where the adventure was.  And is.

Frank Gutch Jr: RIP Steve Young; The Minnows and Their On-the-Money Video; Annabel (lee); Bongo Boy Making Their Move; and a Plethora of Videos…

Although I don’t know how much more.  The wind was taken out of my sails last week when I found out that Steve Young had died.  The musician and not the football player— jeez, I have said that so many times over the years but always with a chuckle.  Not this time.  Steve is really gone and things just don’t feel right.

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: Old Is Not Irrelevant

While working on this weeks column in which I had hoped to give insights into record labels and how they evolved, I realized that much of the music of the past and my attitudes toward it and the business surrounding it needed to be readdressed.

Frank Gutch Jr: The Saga of a Rock Pioneer: Jim Colegrove— Chapter Five

The music business has always been such that the stars become super and the rest pretty much stay in the background.  A case in point would be The Funk Brothers and The Wrecking Crew and the many session men (and women) who do the grunt work while the headliners reaps the profits.  Not that the stars want it that way.  That is just the way it is.  And maybe that’s the way it is supposed to be.  The people within the music industry sure know the supporting cast by name, if the public doesn’t: the session men and the opening acts and the bands which didn’t get the chance or got the chance and didn’t make it for one odd reason or another.

Frank Gutch Jr: Jack Ely & the Accidental Louie; Jim Terr One-Ups a Major Label; The Personal Effects of Kent State; An Apology to Marca Cassity; Plus No Notes…..

Jack Ely‘s dead!  Long live the King(sman).  I hope that doesn’t come off as flippant for it is certainly not meant that way.  While Jack was not really a friend of mine, he was an acquaintance.  Sort of.  I knew him, though.  Here is how that came about.  (Those who already know the story can scroll down to “Jim Terr.”