Jim Suhler--- Panther Burn

It's not like I hadn't heard of Jim Suhler before.  A couple of George Thorogood freaks mentioned his name a few thousand times after catching a Thorogood show.  They said something like, "man, he give George a run for his money," with the affected accent they took on whenever listening to Southern Rock or Southern Blues.  Something like.  My friends down at swampland.com talked about him with real reverence, him being from  Texas and they being so immersed in the South that their accents had accents.  The Fabulous Thunderbirds' Kim Wilson tossed his name out on occasion and you can't deny those "Best of the South" lists for guitarists in which Suhler's name shows up regularly.  So yeah, I'd heard of him.  But, truth be told, I hadn't really planned on reviewing his new album until Betsie Brown tossed one in the mail and then started shaming me for not listening.  Okay, that one was a stretch because Betsie has never pushed for anything, which is why I give whatever she is promoting special attention.  But, yeah, I had heard of him.

I think I'd even heard him, though not on one of his own albums.  Suhler's name would come up on occasion as I sat around with friends sipping ale (I sipped, they guzzled).  I don't think I ever heard him clearly, though.  Too many "wait for it" and "no. not yet" and "okay, okay, okay, now" comments obscuring the actual music, though in their defense, they usually played it loud enough in an attempt to drown out their own voices to allow the music to seep through.  So, yeah, I'd heard him, even though I really hadn't.  Not really.

Jim Suhler--- Rockin' the house.

But when I heard Panther Burn, Suhler's latest, I realized what I'd missed.  I love guitar slingers of all kinds but on the whole have found few who could really break through the white noise and standard riffs.  Tinsley Ellis made an impression during his Alligator Records days.  Bugs Henderson had a live album which I was most impressed with, one of the few truly independent releases back in those days (the ice age of the eighties).  I loved Jimmy Vaughan's playing with the Thunderbirds and, of course, Stevie Ray Vaughan, one of the few major stars I made exception for because he was just so goddamned good, you know?  I mean, I hate stars.  As soon as they make the grade, they lose it.  Stevie never lost it.  He neevr had a chance to, damn it!

Which is why I hope Suhler never becomes one.  Not that he doesn't deserve it.  This new album is packed with good stuff--- blues and gospel-oriented and rock songs to beat the devil.  And he brought in a few people to help--- Kim Wilson and Carolyn Wonderland, to name but two.  But, damn, he didn't need to.  I hear that guitar and I'm sold.

See, Suhler does this thing with grooves.  I didn't even think in those terms until I read a review of this self-same album.  The writer said Suhler rode these blues grooves and I thought, that's it.  The groove!  The band lays down a rhythm line and Suhler dances that guitar all around it.  And there is no doubt that he can play that guitar.  He bends strings and makes it squawk and on occasion strangles it into submission for a short bit of feedback.  He runs sprints with the damn thing, too.  But it's all in the name of the music and that's okay with me.  I love them grooves.

Jim Suhler.  My stack of Texas musicians of real musical worth is getting damn high these days.  State's sinking in them.  I'd live there if it wasn't for the politics.  More crazy conservatives there than you could kill with all of them weapons people have been amassing.  If it wasn't for musicians like Suhler, I'd be all for giving that State back to Santa Anna.  He would probably take it back, too, if we threw in the musicians.  I think that would be a deal breaker.  In fact, I'm pretty darn sure of it.

Frank O. Gutch Jr.

(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog, his own website and the prestigious Don't Believe A Word I Say site put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini, out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about zombies). He believes music should be the core of the music business, though business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)

Zoe Muth--- A Little Piece of History

The new album is titled World of Strangers but I thought I would give you a little piece of history--- mine--- because there was a time Zoe's and my histories intersected.  It hasn't happened often, these brushes with musicians I believe will, in time, work their ways to the top.  With Zoe, it started with a road trip to the coast of Oregon (a 60-mile drive from the Willamette Valley where I live), a stack of CDs and a desire to get caught up on some listening.    The road trip was both a miserable failure and a tremendous success--- I only listened to one album but it was Zoe Muth & The Lost High Rollers, the first by Zoe and band, and it looped until I was once again back in the Valley, anxious to get to the computer to write something--- anything--- about this outstanding new artist and band.  I titled the "review" I Have Heard the Future of Country Music and It Is the Past and in it I raved about the band and the album.  (Read it here)  It would not be my only time.

Indeed, I have written about Muth many times since, from a review of their first appearance at Cottage Grove's Axe & Fiddle (read that here) to a return appearance the next summer (read that here) to various reviews of the first two albums (Zoe Muth & The Lost High Rollers) and (Starlight Hotel) and the following EP (Old Gold).  It seems every time she steps onto a stage or into a studio, I tug at the reins, wanting to write more.  Sometimes I think she reads my mind because she just handed me another album for just that purpose.

There is something about Zoe's voice which is salve to my soul.  I had pretty much given up on Country music by the time she came along.  Nashville had turned glitz and glamor and the music so formula you could make baby food with it.  The "stars" acted the same, looked the same, wore the same clothes and, shudder, played the game of Hollywood to the point of nausea. They still do.

Not Zoe, though.  She came out of Seattle performing her songs in her way and never thought about formulae.  Sure, she fits well in the Country category, but this is a Country with which I am comfortable.  I knew it from the first notes of You Only Believe Me When I'm Lying, track one, record one.  Zoe is, to me, someone very special and very unique.  It is in her songwriting and in her soul, but more than anything it is in her voice.

That voice is centerpiece of World of Strangers.  Surrounded by more production than her previous albums, her voice cuts through the slick so well that you don't even notice.  Nine originals and one song written by Ronnie Lane (April Fool) make this a smooth ride through real country and not that of Nashville.  No trenchcoats and pleather cowboy hats for her.  Simple songs written for and from the heart.

She doesn't do it alone, either.  She has a band, and producer George Reiff filled the studio nicely on various tracks with superb vocalists and musicians including Jenn Miori and Beth Chrisman (The Carper Family), Bruce Robison, and Brandy Zdan. 

Is this her best album yet?  I can't say because everything she has released is top shelf.  Chances are that people who buy the new album are going to want to backtrack and the people who have earlier albums will want this one too.  They are that good, as is she.

Note:  The music in the videos posted in this review besides Mama Needs a Margarita are not from World of Strangers, but they will give you an idea of what that album holds.  They are true Zoe Muth without embellishment.

Frank O. Gutch Jr.

(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog, his own website and the prestigious Don't Believe A Word I Say site put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini, out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about zombies). He believes music should be the core of the music business, though business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)

Tinsley Ellis--- Get It! and Midnight Blue--- Album Reviews

Tinsley Ellis.  Hell of a name.  Maybe not Phil Villapiano or Biff Pocoroba, but it is doubtful that either one of those guys could play guitar like Tinsley.  Of course, Tinsley probably can't play football or baseball like either one of those guys, either.  Doesn't bother me as long as ol' Tinsley keeps putting out albums like Get It! and Midnight Blue.  'at Tinsley's got a touch, he has.

I first heard of him back in the late-80s when he signed with Alligator Records.  The label hyped him like he was the second coming of the blues or something and I have to admit to be pretty damn impressed.  He could sing and play guitar.  And he had the blues in his soul.  Electric blues.  Rockin' blues.

I lost track of him shortly after '90 or so, leaving the record business behind for more immediate concerns.  Occasionally he would put a blip on the radar--- enough so that I knew where he was.  Early last year, though, he blasted onto the scene with an instrumental album which caught me by surprise.  All instrumental, all the time.  When I was a kid, instrumental albums were all the rage, but that was back before rockers learned how to sing, I think.  Artists and groups like Duane Eddy, Dick Dale, The Ventures, and Floyd Cramer built musical dynasties on the backs of the instrumental, as have Ingwie Malmsteen, Gary Hoey, Buckethead, and Steve Morse in more recent days.  In those traditions, Tinsley pulls strings on a plethora of musical styles while featuring the guitar on a variety of levels, though always upfront.  No show-off stuff, though.  The music stands on its own and, yes, Tinsley bends strings and crunches chords, but that is what he does.  He spans decades in his choice of styles, preferring his own compositions over the standards with the exception of Sonny Thompson's Freddy's Midnite Dream and Ellas McDaniel's Detour.  Get It! is 50s-to-present in less than an hour, but not much less.  Tinsley gives you your money's worth and lovers of guitar instrumentals should love it.

The Tinsley I knew back in the 80s had a Chicago or Southern feel to most of his tunes, the guitar edgy, the band electric.  While the music was blues-rooted, the sound was rock.  He's still rocking, but there is more of a maturity these days--- more of the modern masters in his tones.  Surrender borrows as much from B.B. King as anyone, It's Not Funny from New Orleans artists such as The Neville Brothers.  Tinsley trips around the edges of soul and early R&B as well as decades of blues and rock to get the mix on Midnight Blue.  Ten original tracks, all with plenty of guitar and Tinsley's patent vocals.

Get It!--- Production: A-.  Performance: A-.  Choice of Material/Songwriting:  B.

Midnight Blue--- Production: A.  Performance: A.  Songwriting: A-.

Frank O. Gutch Jr.

(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog, his own website and the prestigious Don't Believe A Word I Say site put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini, out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about zombies). He believes music should be the core of the music business, though business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)

She's a Little Lonely and Freakishly Good

That's what she calls herself, Julie Cain, and you can't blame her for picking a bit of an outlandish name in these days of white noise.  There are seemingly ten thousand records recorded and released a week and finding the ones worth spending your time with can be a chore, if not a tremendous mental challenge.  The name could help, so Little Lonely it is and after hearing her new self-titled album, I'm finding that I really don't care.  As always, the truth is in the grooves and this album is as groovy as it comes.

There are some beautiful songs in this package--- the almost Bali Hai-ish in feel Buttonwillow;  the steeped-in-lonely The First Time You Left Me with the guitar almost crying in its cradle of reverb and echo;  Interstate Hum which caught me right off with its Zoe Muth & The Lost High Rollers aura (Zoe, you want to cover anything, please cover this);  the midtempo and flowing rocker, Jesus Is In My Swimming Pool, very Sarah Borges in its separation of verse and chorus.  Penny's First Available has a slight fifties feel and could as easily have ended up on a Drifters album as anywhere.

 I suppose one would have to label this Americana if for no other reason that there are so many different influences.  Country, when the pedal steel dominates.  Pop, when melody is the focus.  Folk, fifties and sixties.  Always within the range of Julie's little girl voice on certain songs, her perfectly mature voice on others.  She reminds me of an early Brenda Lee, altering said voice to fit the songs.  And, as aformentioned, the songs are outstanding.

There is a new video of Interstate Hum, by the way, an exclusive at this time, being previewed at turnstyledjunkpiled.com.  It's pretty cool.  So is the ezine, one of the first to hop on the Little Lonely bandwagon.  What can I say?  They obviously have taste.

I swear to God, musicians are an untrusting lot.  More than a few albums have included hidden or secret tracks and I would not be surprised to find them included just for writers, for we are a lazy lot and famed for needle-dropping (a term used for listening to the first five or ten seconds of a track rather than all the way through).  So musicians and producers set traps.  On this album, it is set visibly as the album-ender.  Old US 40 is, oddly, a recording of ambient sounds recorded on, I assume, Old US 40.  Ambient sounds.  Wind.  Thunder in the distance.  No music.  No vocal.  I picture Julie sitting by her computer rubbing her hands in delicious anticipation of the review which mentions it as an actual song.  Devious.  Very devious.

I know the big dream is the major label deal, even in an industry imploding on itself.  This album is as good as anything the major labels have put out in the past fifty years.  Excellent production by Sean Hoffman and a crew of sidemen perfect for the job.  And Julie is certainly no slouch herself.  She writes like a pro, sings like an angel and has a sense of humor about life.  As far as I'm concerned, she is already a star.  She doesn't need a major label.  She just needs to be heard.

That sense of humor?  Watch this.  Cracks me up every time.

Frank O. Gutch Jr.

(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog, his own website and the prestigious Don't Believe A Word I Say site put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini, out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about zombies). He believes music should be the core of the music business, though business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)

Miss Quincy & The Showdown--- On the Road to Recovery

What goes well with a new album release? A video of course! And Miss Quincy & The Showdown worked really hard shooting TWO new videos to go with the release, but improbable disaster struck. The drive containing the video footage was stolen in Vancouver in a vehicle break-in, and the back-up drive that contained a copy has mysteriously gone missing. The search for the missing drives has been extensive but it's looking like the amazing videos that could have been, are lost forever...

Sounds like a conspiracy to me, but then practically everything does these days.  Even the music, sometimes (I mean, Robin Thicke?  WTF?), but you get the lowdown from The Showdown (okay, it sucks, but I've had thirteen cups of coffee and have been streaming Roadside Recovery for the past four hours and am scrambling to finish this review before I collapse in a pool of caffeine and sweat, so cut me some slack).  I would delete the beginning of this but I hate to lose four hours work, though work it wasn't.  What it was was a trip through the fifties to present day via a blues-influenced trio of ladies who rock.  Well, not really blues, but Rhythm & Blues, which is not quite the same thing.

I always shudder when people confuse blues with R&B.  To me, they are very separate genres, though they do overlap in places.  Such is not the case here, though.  From note one of Roadside Recovery, Miss Quincy rares back and let's us have it with both barrels, Bad Love straight out of George Thorogood territory--- basic and primal.  If this isn't R&B, it's rock.

A personal favorite is Talkin' Trash, a throwback to the late fifties and early sixties R&B ballads helped along by just the right amount of guitar echo and reverb.  The sound is pure nostalgia for myself, having grown up with that sound of pre-soul R&B in my ears.  This is AM gold, if only AM were what it used to be.

The best lines in a song are from Damn You.  Slower and vampish, Quincy sings "This one's gonna hurt/This could be the worst of it/This could be the time when/My heart up and bursts/Oh, this one's gonna hurt."   Wrap it in the over-reverbed guitar and slow plodding rhythm and you have a hit.  Or what would have been when hits weren't designed by machines.

The band works out of Vancouver and once again I shake my head at the thought of so many worthwhile bands confined within the province of British Columbia.  The city and surrounding areas are loaded, I tell you.  Almost makes me want to live there, but I don't think I could adjust to putting "eh?' behind every statement.  And it seems like only yesterday we got rid of the embarrassment of George W. and The Dick.  I'm sorry, but as much as idiots down here don't like Obama (the operating word here being 'idiots'), I wouldn't trade him for Harper.  Not even with future draft choices thrown in.  

Frank O Gutch Jr.

(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog, his own website and the prestigious Don't Believe A Word I Say site put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini, out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about zombies). He believes music should be the core of the music business, though business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)

Terry Quiett Band--- is Taking Sides!

I like the blues as much as any average white guy who grew up in the fifties and sixties and came to really appreciate the blues in the seventies.  I knew of (and still know of) John Lee Hooker and Howlin' Wolf and them Chicago blues dudes.  I have heard the likes of Mississippi Fred McDowell and Leadbelly and Bukka White.  I have even suffered through many a conversation listening to people  (most of whom have made their blues purchases courtesy of the various blues-albums-you-have-to-have articles written by so-called experts) who very seldom listen to blues extolling the godfatherness of Robert Johnson.  Well, let me say this about that.  I may not know the blues but I know what I like.

I like Stevie Ray Vaughan.  I like the early Bluesbreakers.  I like Kenny Wayne Shepherd.  And I like the Terry Quiett Band.  Those of you who have heard of Quiett, congratulations.  You are on the tip of a career about to bust wide open.  For those of you who haven't, pay attention.  This guy is worth reading about and, more importantly, worth hearing.  But before I type on, watch this video to acquaint yourselves with the man and the band.

Get the drift?  Blues ain't always the blues, Roderick.  Sometimes it is way more than the blues.  When it is done right, anyway.  And Quiett and his trio do it right.

They do it doubly right on their latest, Taking Sides.  They rock and slide their way through twelve blues-to-rock-to-soul beauties, capturing that feel of the early Allman Brothers here and Stevie Ray there but always with a look to the rhythm--- the rhythm of the blues.  

That rhythm varies, track to track.  They rock, these guys, enough to plant people against their seats in a theater setting and more than enough to get people on their feet in a club.  They roll, thanks to drummer Rodney Baker, who is solid if not flashy, and bassist Nathan Johnson, whose fluid fingers trip over the strings lightly when necessary, with force when called for.  

The real key, though, is the guitar and voice of Quiett himself.  He has a bit of the South in his voice but never lets it overpower the song, and oh, that guitar!  Quiett runs the gamut from sweet and smooth to uplifting to downright raucous without skipping a beat.  He bends strings, works the slide and coaxes notes from the guitar only very accomplished guitarists can create and if that doesn't mean anything to you, you're not listening.  Toss aside all of those years of Rolling Stone magazines inane "100 Greatest Guitarist" lists and listen to the music, fer chrissake!  Terry Quiett is one.  And if he's not on your list, he's on mine.  He can freakin' play and it is all over Taking Sides.

My favorites on the album are, me being a Motown fan, Two Hearts, which blends the edges of Motown with rockin' blues, and a cover version of Marvin Gaye's Let's Get It On.  They call the Gaye cover a "bonus track."  It is, in more ways than one.  It shows the feel Quiett has for his music, it gives him guitar room (I love the horns as well), and it highlights Quiett's surprisingly soulful voice.  

This, in fact, has reawakened my thirst for superior blues rock.  I have pulled his Just My Luck album (read my review from a couple of years ago here) from my stacks and plan on listening to it tonight.  As busy as I have been, I seem to have lose, now and again, the reason that I write in the first place--- the music.  Time to reacquaint myself.

You can check out the Terry Quiett Band on their website, www.terryquiettband.com.  I recommend it.  First, though, watch this video recorded a couple of years ago.  Maybe it will spur you to see these guys when they come through your area,

Frank O. Gutch Jr.

(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog, his own website and the prestigious Don't Believe A Word I Say site put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini, out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about zombies). He believes music should be the core of the music business, though business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)

It Was 50 Years Ago Today--- Canada Catches Up To the Beatles

I remember the sixties like it was yesterday and one thing I remember is that The Beatles were strides beyond the vast majority of bands/artists, worldwide.  I knew it simply because of all the cover songs being cranked out in the clubs and teen dances, they were the least covered.  Not because kids couldn't dance to their music but because it was damn hard to recreate the sound.  Well, after the first couple of albums, anyway.  Sure, I Want To Hold Your Hand and It Won't Be Long were well within reach of the better bands of the period, but a sure way to go down in flames was to try to replicate, say, I'm Only Sleeping or Dr. Robert and by the time Sgt. Pepper hit the streets, the music was not so danceable anymore, was it (not to mention it being way beyond the expertise of even the real pros).  No doubt about it.  The Beatles were a benchmark band.  If you could cover them, you were good, if still just a cover band.

Well, the world has caught up with them.  Finally.  It took a few decades, but musicians have finally come into their own, as have athletes, rocket scientists and brain surgeons.  I know because as I work my way through Volumes 2 and 3 of Bullseye Canada's It Was 50 Years Ago Today, I can hear it.  The slick guitar tricks, the production values, the  stacked harmonies so important to The Beatles' unique sound.  It's all there, on most of the tracks anyway, and not one Beatle contributed a thing to the recordings (nor was one harmed during the whole entire process).

Consider this an addendum to my review of the first volume of this "series" (it was released as, shall we say, a box set ten years previously), which you can read here.  It is a breakthrough set of songs for me on two levels.  One, while I am not really enamored of The Beatles anymore (I have heard enough for ten lifetimes), I am surprised to find that I am not done with their music--- rather, their songs.  I find this collection of songs rather refreshing, in fact.  Two, I am very surprised at the quality of musicianship involved.  I have heard a few of the artists represented here, but most I have not.  All get my thumbs up, if only for lack of pretension, if nothing else.  The songs are presented straightforward and honestly.  The "gimmicks" used come across as experiments at the least, highly successful recordings at the peak.

What it really comes down to these days are the songs, am I correct?  I mean, if we live in this supposed new world of soundbyte mentality and the song is the key, it has to be all about the song.  I am finding songs throughout these three volumes which intrigue and impress me.

I mentioned Sun PK in my earlier review, and The Kings and The Lolas and The Dons and even the art school angle taken by Figures at Dawn on their version of A Day In the Life.  All present their chosen Beatles songs with a flair beyond the average club band and, truth be told, strike a gong at certain points of their presentations.  Volume 1, to my ears, is a beauty.  Volumes 2 & 3 continue with a string of greater and lesser covers, all worth hearing.  To wit:

Popdudes crank up the guitars, rhythm-heavy, and toss in a bit of punk on the side to give Helter Skelter a punch in the stomach.  Credit the power and the basic and bottom-heavy rhythm guitar.  Give the vocalist credit, too.  It takes lungs to spew like that.

What could you possibly do with Hey Jude that hasn't already been done?  I have no idea, but Eight Seconds lay it out smooth and sweet and I don't miss McCartney at all.  The concert piano helps as do the eerily Beatles-style harmonies.  They nail the ending too.  Not as easy as it sounds.

Dr. Lotech & Mrs. Hippie (featuring Terry Draper)???  Folk-Punk hipster Taxman?  I didn't get it either, until I heard it.  Odd but strangely pleasant take, in fact.

Dexters take I Want You (She's So Heavy) for a test drive at the local pub and make it work like crazy, complete with clinking glasses and background bar talk.  This caught me completely off-guard.  The organ and guitar freaking kill me.  I would have loved to have been there to see this performed live.  And, yes, it was recorded live.

The Dudes were genetically created to recreate songs like Please Mr. Postman.  Swear to God.

Not my favorite Beatles song, by far, is Blue Jay Way, until now.  Dee Long is true to the original to a large degree, but the chunky rhythm guitar and rolling bass (plus the extremely well done vocals, background and otherwise) has me rethinking my lack of appreciation for the song.  What can I say except, I'm impressed!

Anger Brothers get a pass just because they cover And Your Bird Can Sing, a song which cut deep when I first heard it.  A great song is a great song and in this case, The Angers perform it just fine.

Perhaps it is just this period of The Beatles, but I'm Only Sleeping is another song of great importance to me.  And Phil Angotti performs it with reverence, I'm convinced.

Receiver drags Mean Mr. Mustard across the punk line and beats the crap out of him just for the fun of it.  Them crazy punks, eh?  Sometimes, they make me smile.

I have wondered where musical ideas come from sometimes and am wondering right now as Steve Barton assaults my senses with the damnedest version of She's Leaving Home I've ever heard.   If tribute bands showed this kind of attitude toward the songs they covered, I would pay for a ticket.

Spongetones perform For the Benefit of Mr. Kite like they wrote the damn thing.  See what I mean?  Musicians have come so far since the old days.

I have no idea what these people were smoking when they recorded these songs, but I would mortgage my house for a semi-full.

Beatles fans, put your idolatry aside for a minute and listen to these songs with an open mind.  All of you others, just enjoy them.  Presented by Bullseye Canada, which is slowly opening its vaults to present us with treasures we probably didn't even know existed.

To the page, Bosworth!

Volume 2:  http://bullseyecanada.bandcamp.com/album/it-was-50-years-ago-today-a-tribute-to-the-beatles-vol-2

Volume 3:  http://bullseyecanada.bandcamp.com/album/it-was-50-years-ago-today-a-tribute-to-the-beatles-vol-3

Frank O. Gutch Jr.

(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog, his own website and the prestigious Don't Believe A Word I Say site put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini, out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about zombies). He believes music should be the core of the music business, though business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)