Over the years, a lot of dumb things have been said by a lot of smart, experienced, people.
“The greatest scientific minds have assured us that this ship is unsinkable, Lady Astor”.
“Guitar groups are on their way out, Brian”.
“No one is going to tune in to a television network to watch people cook”.
“Trump isn’t a career politician, he’s got fresh ideas and will lead America into the future”.
Shut up.
Continue readingIt was the best of times, it was the worst of …no …wait …that’s either the opening line to a classic story or how I would feel if I won the Lottery and then had to sit through a Billie Eilish concert.
Let me start over.
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One of the things that most impressed me about Frank Gutch Jr’s “nose for noise” is that he started finding this great music before the Internet, almost before electricity, in fact 😉. The Internet has made such a difference in our lives, connecting us mostly for good, but sometimes for bad, sadly. In any case, it has certainly eased our access to music of all kinds, genres and eras.
Yesterday I went through all of the private messages I’d shared with Frank Gutch Jr, since I’d first encountered him. It was in 2013, just after I’d begun writing this weekly column, and right from that first message, it was as though we were separated at birth.
I have described it as “the one place on earth where I’m happy to pay retail price for beer”! It has been a portal to a complete change in my life, introducing me to good times, great music and even greater people. It’s a venue that fosters a strong sense of community among this area’s indie musicians. I am talking about Cherry Cola’s Rock N Rolla Cabaret and Lounge.
My CMW is always a little bit different than most other people’s. Some go for the conferences, some are all about the music. Still others go for the trade show and the mentoring. But me – I go to people watch.
Like, on the first day I hit the Sheraton, to pick up my pass and get the lay of the land. Some people were looking for their friends, or checking out those who tend to get their names in newspaper bold face … Me, I was in the lobby of the crowded Sheraton Hotel, watching a young male couple dress their teensy tiny pocket puppy in all new Hudson’s Bay swag.
Funny, the thoughts that go through your mind. You can be watching some mindless entertainment, giving your brain a free ride between weightier tasks like deciding whether to have a cigarette or cook dinner, when suddenly you think …Whatever happened to Charlie Farquharson?
Toronto was a different place in the late 1970’s and early eighties. Although it’s easy to look back with rose coloured glasses, it was, in fact, a watershed time for Toronto musicians. Everywhere you turned, you were surrounded by outstanding music, made by dedicated and very talented players, who enjoyed the freedom to create their art, and make a living at the same time.
Critics called them “The Pre-Fab Four,” but a generation of little girls understood. Those of us coming into puberty, who had been just a little too young to have had fantasies about The Beatles, now had our very own super group. The Monkees were cute! They were funny! And really – could this quartet be more non-threatening? The worse that could happen would be that Davy might not get the girl … but he always did.
My best friends and I would loll around for hours, listening to their latest record, buying every copy of 16 Magazine and TIGER beat with a picture of one of the boys on the cover, and of course, watching the show every Sunday night. We’d squeal on the phone about their rumoured escapades, and dream of some day meeting a real live Monkee.
If there was one good thing about being without power for three days during the recent ice storm, it was discovering that it is indeed possible to live without the endless bombardment 
of email, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, television and the like. With my trusty wind-up radio by my side, I kept up with what was important – my imminent salvation from the cold and dark. For a few days, I actually interacted with my family, with little more background sound than a news update.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 