Editor’s note: “Overlooked in Ohio” is a feature in which we ask an Ohio-based artist/music enthusiast to tell us about a few bands (past or present) from the state of Ohio that deserve some love. Our second installment comes courtesy of Bela Koe-Krompecher, a staple of the Columbus rock scene and head of the soon-to-be-revived Anyway Records — former home of Gaunt, The New Bomb Turks and countless other “important” Columbus bands, including this volume’s subject, Greenhorn. …This is a long one, but do yourself a big favor and read the whole thing… (All photos by Jay Brown.)

MP3: Unreleased Greenhorn album (courtesy Minimum Tillage Farming, who also has two others here)

In 1990 there was a force in Columbus that shook the walls and very foundation of such hallowed halls as Stache’s and Bernie’s. While it may be the easiest assumption to think that this force was The New Bomb Turks, Gaunt or the Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments (who were all sharpening their guttural and whiny blasts of intellectual yet primordial rage to be unleashed on an unsuspecting public), none of them could hold a candle to the utter force of Greenhorn. Consisting of two sets of brothers out of the ashes of the first Datapanik band, Two Hour Trip, Greenhorn was Midwestern to the core, but they inflicted an audio assault that ranks with the best of American rock and roll.

The Columbus music community gathered around Greenhorn like ants around a dropped sucker. Everybody loved them — the punks, the junkies, the feminists (riot grrls?), indie-rockers and even the college crowd. There was nothing ironic or tongue-in-cheek about the music nor the lyrics. In fact, primary songwriter Dan Spurgeon was not afraid to let his emotions hang on his sleeve, and many of his songs consisted of paeans of love to his future (and ex-) wife. As any good-minded record geek knows, being this upfront and exposed in music is a dangerous and daunting task, especially for a male songwriter. Chan Marshall may be able to do it, but you’d be hard-pressed to believe Steve Malkmus could ever do it with a straight face, let alone Ron House.

Part of the effect of Greenhorn was the sheer potency of the Greenhorn live show; these fuckers stacked the back of the stage with a wall of Marshall amps. From floor to ceiling, the rhythm section consisted of Pat (drums) and Steve (bass) McGann, two intelligent, good-old boys with handsome boyish charm that flooded the stage with exuberance whenever they played. Steve had an intrinsic “I-dare-you” attitude that he wore on his bass, playing this out by removing two of his bass strings — the musical equivalent of “we don’t need any stinking badges!” Dan sang and played rhythm guitar while his older and shirtless brother Mark played lead, adding snaky leads over Dan’s simple yet vigorous songs.

(Keep reading for more on Greenhorn from Bela. Seriously. Do it.) (more…)

Editor’s note: “Overlooked in Ohio” is a feature in which we ask an Ohio-based artist or music enthusiast to tell us about a few bands (past or present) from the state of Ohio that deserve some love. Our second installment comes courtesy of Mark Wyatt, former member of seminal Columbus band Great Plains and One Riot One Ranger; these days you’ll find him singing behind the keyboard with The Beatdowns and Columbus Power Squadron. Here are Mark’s reflections on and recollections of the Gibson Brothers.

MP3: The Gibson Brothers – Big Pine Boogie off the 1987 cassette The Gibson Bros. Build a Raft (via Minimum Tillage Farming)

Jeez, where do I begin with these guys? At the beginning, I suppose. My brother Matt and I first met the eventual “lead” guitarist of the Gibbies, Don Howland, at a Ramones show in Cincinnati in the late 70’s; he was hawking his fanzine Shake It! to the folks in line (don’t hold me to that title…confirming it would require me to dig into my basement “archives”), we got to talking, realized we were fairly kindred spirits, and started a friendship which continues to this day. A friendship, I might add, that even endured him being a founding member of Great Plains, despite the fact that he didn’t like the band well enough to even use his real name on the first record.

I already knew Dan Dow (the GB’s acoustic rhythm guitarist) from Mole’s Records, although the guy always played it so close to the vest that it’s hard to say I really *knew* him… I can’t recall when I met front man “Country Jeff” Evans or minimalist drummer Ellen Hoover, but I suspect it was when Jeff moved in with my next-door neighbor, the aforementioned Mr. Dow. I used to see Jeff coming back from the South Drive-In flea market on summer Saturday mornings, more often than not carrying some bizarre old amp or guitar, and I’d see Ellen and Jeff coming back from dates in one of Jeff’s two ancient Cadillacs, the choice of which depended on which one was actually running at the time.

So, seeing as how they were all friends and/or neighbors, of course I checked out this Gibson Brothers thing when they first played out.

(Keep reading for more album art and words from Mark) (more…)

Editor’s note: “Overlooked in Ohio” is a new feature in which we ask an Ohio-based artist, music enthusiast, etc. to tell us about a few bands (past or present) from the state of Ohio that deserve some love. Our first installment comes courtesy of Jerry Dannemiller, guitarist/singer in Moviola and director of marketing and communications at the Wexner Center in Columbus. (Not to mention a past contributor to NPR, Magnet and a host of other publications.)

Blank Schatz; photo by Jay Brown

Blank Schatz (Findlay, Ohio, early 1980s): When punk rock was still something weird and foreign and only happened in big cities, the brothers Butler were kicking out the jams in my hometown of Findlay like it was the Lower East Side. I saw them only a couple times in high school and then in Columbus opening for the likes of Live Skull and (a very early) Flaming Lips. Musically, they fell somewhere in the neighborhood of Die Kruezen or a more earnest Black Flag. It hasn’t aged all that incredibly well, but back then, in the desolate environs of northwest Ohio, it was music to my green ears.

Wolverton Brothers

Wolverton Brothers (Cincinnati, late 80s, still active): My admiration for the Wolvertons—as people and as artists—knows no bounds, if you haven’t heard them, you would do yourself well to scrounge up any of their six records. Part Anglo-80s skronk-surf, Beefheart-ish mushmouth, and high-speed boom-chicka-boom, Tim, Billy, Todd, and Jay are the rarest of entities: raw, unaffected by trend, and original to a fault.

Keep reading for more. (more…)