Frank Gutch Jr: Jock Talk: KAKC Tulsa’s Jim Peters Talks About Radio In the Sixties—

A simple recipe it was.  Sprinkle a few hundred radio stations throughout the United States and Canada, mix with rock ‘n’ roll and stir.  Stir up would be a more apt term because when the music hit the airwaves, the shit hit the fan— the music fan, that is.  Not a big deal, you say?  You’re probably right.  In the grand scheme of things, a handful of traditionalists screaming McCarthyisms in a world already changed beyond their understanding would turn out to be flies on a horse’s ass, so to speak, and to scream them at teens plugged into a jukebox or record player at full volume was, well, laughable, but scream them they did and, as they say, the rest is history.

Frank Gutch Jr: No Small Children, More Fun With 45s, Notes and Maybe A Few Other Things… Maybe

A couple of years ago— well, maybe a few now— I spent a summer reading and hearing about how this Sheryl Crow track (I can’t think of the title at the moment) was the anthem of the summer and captured everything good about the season.  When I finally heard it, my mental jaw dropped.  I could not believe that anyone could hear anything inspiring about the song or the performance.  It was decent enough, I suppose, but it didn’t make me want to sing or dance or hit the freeway with the top down and sing along at the top of my voice.  That’s what an anthem is supposed to do, right?  Inspire?