Gibson Bros. “Big Pine Boogie”

Not necessarily “punk rock”—I guess you could say lo-fi blues roots garage or something—but I’m talking about a philosophy more than a musical label—and, for me, punk rock was over, I don’t know, by the first time any band released an album they didn’t have to pay for themselves. I know that’s dumb, but it’s how it felt at the time, so around 1981, I was through with it—which is okay—because rejecting it was part of what was punk rock—if that makes any sense—which it doesn’t—but that’s okay, too. Also, punk rock seemed to evolve with an alarmingly terminal tunnel-vision from people sometimes playing instruments they didn’t know which side was up on… to the same kind of endless obsession with virtuosity that got so tiring with rock bands in the Seventies. So, when I moved to Columbus, Ohio around the spring of 1986, and popped into the nearest bar to our apartment behind the Blue Danube (I still drank, smoked, and visited bars) and saw the Gibson Bros. performing, I knew that I was more or less back to, not only Ohio, but the land of (literally and figuratively) not giving a fuck. They immediately became my favorite band. To be honest to my failing memory, I might have seen Scrawl first, and they became my favorite band, and/or Royal Crescent Mob, and they became my favorite band. They were all right up there. Had I merely seen a name on a flyer, I would have guessed a band with the name “Gibson Bros.” to be someone to avoid, but the dumb name was part of their charm. At the time, I think their only release was on cassette (which I might still have). Mostly, it was live shows. I believe from the first time I saw them, I realized that their approach was all at once deadly serious, ironic, completely sincere, comic, not ironic, goofy, fun, and steeped in misery—and that seemed to be to some degree the point—but they weren’t about to articulate that in any way other than playing the music.

This record came out in 1987, and I must have listened to it a lot, seeing how I remember every note and nuance—and I haven’t even listened to it in a while. But it’s holding up, on some fine OKra Records vinyl. A riddle. What’s the best thing to eat with okra? More okra! What’s the best thing to put on okra? This record! It’s the original lineup—Jeffrey Evans, Don Howland, Dan Dow, and Ellen Hoover—three of them play guitar most of the time, three of them sing. No one whips out a harmonica or otherwise does anything to destroy the environment. The songs are a combination of originals and covers—and I’m too underpaid to provide history on the songs they chose to revive, nor am I analyzing lyrics, just now. Though, “Bo Diddley Pulled a Boner,” I believe, refers to the idiom in the old-fashioned sense, as with the original-text Hardy Boys (in the rewrites they changed it to: “fucked up, massively”). No animals were harmed in recording this record; that’s just “Reverb” turned up to “11.” My favorite is probably still “Casey Jones,” though maybe just because it’s the first song—all the rest tie for close second. The album cover mimics the look of one of those educational musicologist series from the recent way past, in the mellowest combo of soothing blue and white, with some barely decipherable, low-contrast black & white photos. Don’t be put off by the “Sex Instruction” claim, that’s a joke. It does accurately promise “12 songs plus an ODDITY”—no two-headed lizard—that final enticement being the time-honored, uncredited rendition of “Shakin’ All Over” —that sounds like it’s live from someone’s kitchen!

6.19.26