I appreciate and respect your honesty as you preface this post about your own artistic career. Except for those who won the art lottery, such as Picasso, Stephen King, Radiohead, and even Substack's superstar, Mr. Ted Gioia—I believe every artist wrestles with self-doubt repeatedly. Many of us are simply on a quest to dig, explore, experiment, create, and share while life goes on without us.
For the vast majority of us, our art will remain ignored, underappreciated, and unseen.
Lately, I've also noticed a steady stream of posts on Notes where people are celebrating reaching subscriber or paid subscriber milestones in the hundreds or even thousands. In contrast, many of us are writing for free or have enough paid subscribers that you can count them on one hand (or one finger).
But we still create—because we have to.
You have a burning desire to share music with us because you want to (and passionately *have* to). And we are both in agreement—why write about yet another article on the genius of Jimi Hendrix? We all know he was a genius. What more can anyone bring to the table that hasn't already been said in six decades of spilt ink proclaiming his genius? However, very little is written about the creative oddballs Doug Hream Blunt and Gary Wilson. Yet, these artists deserve to be championed because if just one person listens and discovers their work, it will be a triumph for the arts.
I've only heard Blunt's "Whiskey Man" and "Gentle Persuasion," but Gary Wilson is a new one to me. Blunt's weird, almost garage-rock approach to his soulful funk has no equal that I know of. It brings to mind obscure bands like The Remains mixed with Damn Sam and The Miracle Man. His sound is totally unexpected, out of left field, and pulls from so many diverse influences, yet it somehow works!
The Wilson song is totally bonkers, and I totally get why you adore it. The fuzzed-out, weirdo guitar solo at the end is worth the price of admission alone. It also almost sounds like he is tapping into that De:Evolution sound that Devo were pioneering while also channeling the earlier, edgier vibe of The Talking Heads.
BTW, do you know an obscure psych album by a band called 'Afterglow?' If not, check it out... I think you will dig it, and this Wilson song also made me think of it.
Your closing thought really resonated with me, highlighting how many of the artists we both adore yet were largely ignored during their era, only to gain recognition long after, like Loop, Spacemen 3, Cold Sun, Rikki Ililonga, Lijadu Sisters, Betty Davis, Nick Drake, Afterglow, Relatively Clean Rivers, obscuro Turkish psych, and even Frida Kahlo (who was only moderately successful in her lifetime). What’s more significant, however, is their profound and lasting impact on countless musicians and artists years or decades later. There will always be someone, somewhere, discovering their art and inspired to create something new and something fresh.
Thank you for sharing your words and Blunt and Wilson with us, Jamie.
Sorry for the ramble. Your post seemed to warrant it.
I don't know Afterglow, I'll definite seek that out.
You're certainly right about the Devo-esque traits of the Gary Wilson album. As I read it, he was bringing in the art-rock element, and new wave nods as a way to get the music attention but he is genuinely weird. You can never really hide that, even if you're trying to be gimmicky. And you're right about the lasting influence of outsiders, maybe because they operate with more freedom—how many bands are we talking about that say, "You know, I heard Journey, and then everything just started to click"? Plus, I'm an underdog kind of guy by nature, always have been, unconsciously. I've been thinking a lot about success lately, or truthfully, an artist's relationship to it as an idea and a yearning for it—but if what if you already had the thing you thought you'd been after? Robert Irwin always comes to mind; the success for him was personal—it appeared in the studio, only when the questions he was answering in his work prompted more questions.
Oh, and thank you for bringing up Relatively Clean Rivers; I haven't listened to that record in a while and today seems like a great day for it.
I love what you say about Irwin. When I am working on a painting, it is never finished until the painting starts talking to me and answers questions I have about it. Inevitably, it also begins to prompt new ones. So to hear you say that about Irwin was very validating.
I believe so many artists are in that same category regarding success, but for somebody like Nick Drake, he was such a sensitive soul that his music being ignored devastated him, and it proved too much. And, of course, Kahlo's art was always obscured by the great, hulking shadow of Diego's work. Nowadays, however, when galleries and museums focus on showcasing female Mexican artists, they always highlight Frida and in return ignore countless others. The same vicious cycle of rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat.
I, too, have always been a champion of the underdog. Perhaps because I grew up on the "mistake on the lake" (Cleveland), or maybe because I had far too many people constantly championing Queen, Zeppelin, Grateful Dead, and the Old European Masters time and time again that I got bored and needed to dig deeper. Discovering that diamond in the rough, like Bobb Trimble or the art of Beksiński and Hundertwasser, was far more exciting than Monet or listening to Grateful Dead, LZ IV, or Rush 2112 over and over and over (which most of my high school friends did).
RCR is such a great album. I listened to it in its entirety in 2004 on a CD Walkman whilst sitting alone in an isolated spot of Death Valley (it was April so not too hot). That's when the album really sank its teeth into me.
I appreciate and respect your honesty as you preface this post about your own artistic career. Except for those who won the art lottery, such as Picasso, Stephen King, Radiohead, and even Substack's superstar, Mr. Ted Gioia—I believe every artist wrestles with self-doubt repeatedly. Many of us are simply on a quest to dig, explore, experiment, create, and share while life goes on without us.
For the vast majority of us, our art will remain ignored, underappreciated, and unseen.
Lately, I've also noticed a steady stream of posts on Notes where people are celebrating reaching subscriber or paid subscriber milestones in the hundreds or even thousands. In contrast, many of us are writing for free or have enough paid subscribers that you can count them on one hand (or one finger).
But we still create—because we have to.
You have a burning desire to share music with us because you want to (and passionately *have* to). And we are both in agreement—why write about yet another article on the genius of Jimi Hendrix? We all know he was a genius. What more can anyone bring to the table that hasn't already been said in six decades of spilt ink proclaiming his genius? However, very little is written about the creative oddballs Doug Hream Blunt and Gary Wilson. Yet, these artists deserve to be championed because if just one person listens and discovers their work, it will be a triumph for the arts.
I've only heard Blunt's "Whiskey Man" and "Gentle Persuasion," but Gary Wilson is a new one to me. Blunt's weird, almost garage-rock approach to his soulful funk has no equal that I know of. It brings to mind obscure bands like The Remains mixed with Damn Sam and The Miracle Man. His sound is totally unexpected, out of left field, and pulls from so many diverse influences, yet it somehow works!
The Wilson song is totally bonkers, and I totally get why you adore it. The fuzzed-out, weirdo guitar solo at the end is worth the price of admission alone. It also almost sounds like he is tapping into that De:Evolution sound that Devo were pioneering while also channeling the earlier, edgier vibe of The Talking Heads.
BTW, do you know an obscure psych album by a band called 'Afterglow?' If not, check it out... I think you will dig it, and this Wilson song also made me think of it.
Your closing thought really resonated with me, highlighting how many of the artists we both adore yet were largely ignored during their era, only to gain recognition long after, like Loop, Spacemen 3, Cold Sun, Rikki Ililonga, Lijadu Sisters, Betty Davis, Nick Drake, Afterglow, Relatively Clean Rivers, obscuro Turkish psych, and even Frida Kahlo (who was only moderately successful in her lifetime). What’s more significant, however, is their profound and lasting impact on countless musicians and artists years or decades later. There will always be someone, somewhere, discovering their art and inspired to create something new and something fresh.
Thank you for sharing your words and Blunt and Wilson with us, Jamie.
Sorry for the ramble. Your post seemed to warrant it.
Keep on keepin' on!
I don't know Afterglow, I'll definite seek that out.
You're certainly right about the Devo-esque traits of the Gary Wilson album. As I read it, he was bringing in the art-rock element, and new wave nods as a way to get the music attention but he is genuinely weird. You can never really hide that, even if you're trying to be gimmicky. And you're right about the lasting influence of outsiders, maybe because they operate with more freedom—how many bands are we talking about that say, "You know, I heard Journey, and then everything just started to click"? Plus, I'm an underdog kind of guy by nature, always have been, unconsciously. I've been thinking a lot about success lately, or truthfully, an artist's relationship to it as an idea and a yearning for it—but if what if you already had the thing you thought you'd been after? Robert Irwin always comes to mind; the success for him was personal—it appeared in the studio, only when the questions he was answering in his work prompted more questions.
Oh, and thank you for bringing up Relatively Clean Rivers; I haven't listened to that record in a while and today seems like a great day for it.
I love what you say about Irwin. When I am working on a painting, it is never finished until the painting starts talking to me and answers questions I have about it. Inevitably, it also begins to prompt new ones. So to hear you say that about Irwin was very validating.
I believe so many artists are in that same category regarding success, but for somebody like Nick Drake, he was such a sensitive soul that his music being ignored devastated him, and it proved too much. And, of course, Kahlo's art was always obscured by the great, hulking shadow of Diego's work. Nowadays, however, when galleries and museums focus on showcasing female Mexican artists, they always highlight Frida and in return ignore countless others. The same vicious cycle of rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat.
I, too, have always been a champion of the underdog. Perhaps because I grew up on the "mistake on the lake" (Cleveland), or maybe because I had far too many people constantly championing Queen, Zeppelin, Grateful Dead, and the Old European Masters time and time again that I got bored and needed to dig deeper. Discovering that diamond in the rough, like Bobb Trimble or the art of Beksiński and Hundertwasser, was far more exciting than Monet or listening to Grateful Dead, LZ IV, or Rush 2112 over and over and over (which most of my high school friends did).
RCR is such a great album. I listened to it in its entirety in 2004 on a CD Walkman whilst sitting alone in an isolated spot of Death Valley (it was April so not too hot). That's when the album really sank its teeth into me.