Frank Dean was born in Logan County, West Virginia. His memories
of his birthplace are strong ones. Hills, rivers, churches, rusted-out
cars and poverty.  Lots of it.  Dean recalls that “we were poor, but
we had more than most.”  He also adds, “I can think of nothing more
ironic than pain, misery and suffering to be veiled by so much
beauty.”

Music was a constant in the home, especially country and traditional
folk music. Saturday nights were the Grand Ol’ Opry, where, as
Dean says, “You could pretty much bet the farm that Bill Monroe
would play ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky’ or that Roy Acuff would perform
‘Wabash Cannonball’ or ‘The Great Speckled Bird.’ If it was an
election year, he’d sing ‘Wreck on the Highway’ to help the
temperance candidates.”

Television had arrived in the hamlets and hollers of Logan County a
little later than the rest of the world but still in time for the musical
comet known as Elvis Presley.  The greasy, flashy kid from Memphis
was one of their own. The Hillbilly Cat. And they loved him. Dean
adds, “I could sing every verse of ‘Hound Dog’ before I was four.”  

A few years later, the family moved to Indianapolis to better its
financial opportunities. Being in a new state where you knew few
beyond immediate family was tough. Going to school where you
spoke with an accent that was constantly ridiculed didn’t help. Music,
however, did. “Not one night went by that I didn’t fall asleep to some
kind of music,” says Dean.

Shortly after entering grade school, The Beatles invaded America.
After obtaining his first electric guitar (a white Airline “Les Paul” Jr.  
copy), Dean started trying to figure out Ventures instrumentals but,
as he admits, “I had much better luck with the Luther Perkins stuff on
Johnny Cash’s records.”

The mid-70s were spent playing coffeehouses and open stages
while waiting for legal age to kick in during the latter part of the
decade. And did it ever. Dean recalls, “For years I'd been waiting for
the police to get me for playing underage so I went a little nuts when
I turned and  played in every dive, honky tonk,  skull orchard or strip
bar that would let me drag a guitar inside.” Getting to perform
completely outweighed the chance of getting in trouble. Actually, he
adds, “I thought the whole scene was pretty exciting, and since I’d
been around those types most of my life, I kind of fit in.” Except for
the shoulder-length hair. That took the country crowd a little longer
to get used to.  Thanks to the mass success of one of Dean’s idols,
Waylon Jennings, that changed too.

A succession of bands followed: Cross-town Country, Blacksmith’s
Anvil,  Frank Dean & Friends  and  Hillwilliams. “Hillwilliams,” says
Dean, “was maybe the first neo-traditional country band in
Indianapolis”  and  “I think Karen Harkins was singing every
Emmylou Harris song ever recorded.”

While going to a gig one evening, Dean’s 1972 Cadillac blew a tire
at 54th and College Avenue. When Dean went inside to use the
phone, he heard a voice that, in his words, “sounded about ten
times bigger than the joint it was comin’ out of.”  It was the voice of
Andra Faye. The two hit it off and not long after formed one of the
most original bands to play the area, Blue DeVille.  

Named for the Cadillac of tire misfortune, the band included Dean,
Faye and three members of the Army Jazz Combo, Greg Lindholm,
Tim Harr and Shawn Stewart.  Midway into their first album, Harr was
reassigned and was replaced by then-15-year-old Jason
Schermerhorn.

The album, though well received, was a little too eclectic for some. A
cross of blues, swing, rockabilly and country, it was a couple years
ahead of its time, and members were tiring of the lack of recognition
and constantly being asked to play Top 40 country.  Stewart went
back to Florida, Lindholm toured with blues group The Cooler Kings,
and Schermerhorn went on to play with country star Michelle Wright.

Not long after, says Dean, “Andra got the call I always knew she
deserved to get.” Alligator recording artists Saffire, The Uppity Blues
Women, needed a utility instrumentalist. And according to Dean,
“they just so happened to get one who sang her ass off.”

Tim Harr, however soon returned to Indy and along with Dean,
Lindholm, Jimmy Venom and vocalist Tim Fox formed what many still
consider the coolest rocked-up country band in Indy history.

As an homage to the music they were performing, Dean christened
the new group Hillbilly Central. Although the lineup frequently moved
around, the quality was undeniable. Steve Woods and Roy D. Bone
were members. Harr was in the band three different times.  
Performers from big-name bands often sat in when in town, such as
Ray Flacke and Albert Lee.

Unfortunately, temperaments, substances, girlfriends and egos
became too much, and all that was left of a band that’s still talked
about was a four-song demo that was never released.

Country music was changing again, but not to Dean’s liking. He
wrote and recorded a straight-ahead rock album titled “Empty
Thrones,” which contained the first recordings of “Virgil Gaines” and
“Jenny Baker.” He then spent the next year promoting what he now
feels was “a very preachy and opinionated record.” The backup
group, The Breakers, consisted of Gary Wasson, Barry Eldridge,
Jay Petraits and Denise Senter. Afterwards, citing hearing problems
resulting from “playing with people who refused to turn down,”  he
walked away from yet another band.

Dean, in a self-imposed “musical exile funk” began putting together
demos to be gifts for his parents of rural Appalachian folk music.
Instead of recording old songs, though, Dean wrote new songs that
“sounded old.”

Once in the studio for what would become “Appalachian Pipeline,”
the “demos” started taking a different turn. Old friend Gary Wasson
had been brought in to play bass and sing harmony, but Dean soon
started handing him lead vocals on a few songs as well.  For
instrumental duties, a young teenage fiddle/banjo/mandolin player
named Jason Roller stepped up to the plate and hit one over the
fence.  Roller later did the same for country star Joe Diffie.

Realizing the obvious, Dean felt the project had gone well past the
point of being a solo album and released it as a band effort under
the name Sindacato, an Italian word for “union.” Jeff Napier of NUVO
called it “a beautiful yet harrowing look into the recesses of hillbilly
soul.” The Indianapolis Star’s Marc Allan called it “a once in a
lifetime achievement.” But changes were on the way.

Jon Martin had been a guitar buddy of Dean’s since he was literally
a teenager.  After retuning from a short-lived stint in Florida, Martin
looked up Dean about playing only to find that Sindacato was
performing acoustically. The only opening it had was for a dobro or
mandolin player. Martin soon began playing both.  

Dean was soon feeling that to follow up the debut recording with
another similar sound would be “selling out” and decided to turn
electric again.  Drummer Carl LoSasso, whom Dean describes as
“the perfect drummer,” had been a fan of the group and came out of
raising-a-family retirement to join. Keyboard player Doug Lawson
rounded out the circle. The result blew the top off the sophomore
jinx. It was simply titled “Sindacato.”

The recording won Album of the Year nods from Jim Johnson of the
Indianapolis Star. Again, NUVO’s Jeff Napier raved about it.  With
Dean’s songs and vocals from Wasson, Martin, Lawson and Dean,
the album was compared to efforts by The Band and Steve Earle.  
Within the next few months the band would play the support role for
the likes of Emmylou Harris, Todd Rundgren, Junior Brown,  Travis
Tritt and others. Sindacato performed as far away as Portland,
Oregon, with alt-country legend Jim Lauderdale.  Everything seemed
to be going well for the band. So, of course, Dean was looking to do
something else.

Troy Seele and Frank Dean had known each other for years.  Seele
had been in the city’s top rock band while Dean was still with Hillbilly
Central.  Music critic and mutual friend Mike Redmond had
introduced the two at a music conference.

Seele had since picked up a near-lethal dose of bluegrass guitar,
while Dean had been a fan of it since childhood. Steve Woods
returned like a ghost from the past to play banjo to Martin’s Dobro.  
Longtime pal Kara Barnard stopped in to play mandolin. Wasson
moved to acoustic bass while LoSasso cut back to a snare drum.

Sindacato’s “Logan County,” produced by Dean and Barnard, was
released three months later. It became the first recording in
Indianapolis history to be awarded Album of the Year by both The
Indianapolis Star and NUVO magazine. Sindacato was also voted
Band of the Year in critics’ and readers’ polls alike. Rock and
country  fans were showing up in “hip” clubs to listen to bluegrass.

Gigs were coming faster now than the band could accept them.
Sindacato was opening for Dwight Yoakam, Ralph Stanley, Marty
Stuart, Del McCoury, Sam Bush, Nickel Creek and Norman Blake.
The high point in Dean’s opinion, though, was being asked to open
for the highly acclaimed “Down from the Mountain” tour of music
from and coinciding with the film, “O Brother Where Art Thou.” In
that circle the group shared the bill with Patty Loveless, Ricky
Skaggs, Rodney Crowell, Alison Krauss and one of Dean’s personal
musical heroes, Rosanne Cash. Dean calls it “my proudest moment.”

Dean calls Sindacato’s followup, “The Gospel Plow,” an album “we
really needed to make.” “We’d been working so hard for such a long
time that we just needed to have some fun.” The CD was modeled
after gospel radio shows of the 40s and 50s. “It was an absolute
blast to make” says Dean. “And because of the gospel tag, it was
horribly overlooked.”

Although “Logan County” was its largest-selling recording and had
converted scores of rock and country fans, the bluegrass community
by and large turned its back on Sindacato. The general consensus
was that traditional bluegrass groups, venues and fans considered
Sindacato to be “a bunch of rockers getting a lot of attention playing
our music.” Dean, who had listened to and loved bluegrass music all
his life, was quick to reply and made even more enemies. “They
were jealous and vindictive. We actually received  a letter from some
idiot claiming that Bill Monroe was ‘spinning in his grave.’”
“Uninformed idiots shifting their mouths tongue before engaging
their brain clutch,” says Dean.

Strangely enough, even though one of Dean’s major influences was
electric country, it was an area he’d not jumped into for quite a while.
His solo project “...and back again,” which besides the usual lineup
featured Paul Ware on fiddle and harmonica and Herb Clarkson on
pedal steel, was released the next year and included his tribute to
Johnny Cash titled “You Walked Tall,” which music critic David
Lindquist called “by itself worth the price of the disc.”  Even after it
was recorded by Cash’s old band The Tennessee Three, Dean
thought there were “much better songs on the album.”   

Sindacato’s last project, “The Cord,” was a rhythm and blues
influenced disc that followed what Dean calls “a personal disaster.”
The musical parting of longtime friend and confidant Gary Wasson
was “extremely difficult.”  Dean calls the whole experience “a very
sad and private matter” that he doesn’t care to discuss other than to
say, “There are few people in this world I care as much about as
Gary Wasson.” and "It would be a huge mistake for anyone to
assume they could put in their two cents on the matter without
paying a severe interest penalty."

“The Cord” brought two new members to the Sindacato fold. Brent
Bennett stepped in the bass spot while also contributing songs, and
Mike Brown came in with keyboards and harmonica. The entire
project, according to Dean, was to “repay a musical debt to the
musicians of the south” and in particular his beloved Memphis.  
“When I’m in Memphis,” says Dean, “I feel a sense of complete joy.”

Unfortunately, the circumstances and stress around making “The
Cord” took their toll. After ten years of writing, recording and
performing in Sindacato, Dean left the group he founded. “I needed
a rest,” he said.  “A lot of things change in ten years. People’s lives
take different directions, their priorities change, things just get to be
too much. You can’t blame people for their lives changing.

He also performs in an acoustic setting as Frank Dean & Friends
wherever and whenever drunk chicks can shut up talking about
themselves long enough to listen to music.

2009

Dean is also performing in The Snakehandlers, a Chicago style
blues outfit with Carl Lo Sasso, Floyd Tucker, Brent Bennett, Bob
Schneider, and Scott Parkhurst.


Decades of lies, cheap motels, bad food, and what can only be
described as horrible business decisions by liars, cheats, and
buffoons have brought about  self management. Information for
concerts, clubs, private parties and other functions is available by
calling: 1-317-933-5954 or email to  frankddean@msn.com
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FRANK DEAN