You went to all these places and joined his crazy schemes so you could be part of the wild, strange and weird universe of stories cultivated and created by Dallas music maven and self-described "Namedropper" James "Bucks" Burnett.
Sadly, Burnett died on Monday, Oct. 2. His life partner Barley Vogel posted the devastating news last Monday on Facebook, letting friends know that Burnett "took his life last week just shy of his 65th birthday."
The response to the tragic news was so overwhelming that a special page has been set up where friends and fans can post their memories of Burnett's life and the ways he shaped them and the Dallas music scene for decades.
Bucks' career and legacy are hard to categorize because they took so many forms over the course of his life in Dallas. He'd been a musician and a producer. He managed musicians — such as the latter half of novelty music maven Tiny Tim's career. He was a promoter and producer of shows that launched his insane ideas and genuine love for music. He curated a museum of 8-track tapes on Commerce Street in Deep Ellum.
He ran record stores that ignored every conventional marketing and retail ideal by hiding away in underground places and catering almost exclusively to the crate hoarders who would crawl through barbed wire for a chance to look at a Joe Strummer box set. His 14 Records shop had very specific rules after a gaggle of drunks wandered through his place bumping into stands and demanding he play The B-52s' "Rock Lobster." A sign on his door proclaimed, "No entry if you do not actively purchase music" with an arrow pointing at the word "purchase."
"He told me once it was the smallest record store around in the U.S. but it had the most good stuff in it," says Deep Ellum Community Association board member and friend Jay Gavit. "He was right about that."
Bucks Burnett presents Queen guitarist Brian May with the shirt off his back.
Bucks Burnett Archives
Having standards didn't mean he was grouchy or even disagreeable. He had a wealth of knowledge about the music industry and chapters of stories that he shared with friends and friends of friends about "The Time I Met Queen Before the Band Ate at Campisi's," "That Time I Played Guitar for Jimmy Page" and the time he "Gave Andy Warhol a Hot Check in 1985," according to his Namedropper columns that ran in the Dallas Observer.
"He was the coolest person in the world in my opinion," says Leah Lane, the singer for Rosegarden Funeral Party and a close friend of Burnett. "All my friends have their story about the time we took them to meet Bucks because he always gave you a story."
Bucks started his music career at age 16 with a job at the Hit Records store in Oak Cliff. He went to found and own several of his own music stores, which were usually tucked away in underground locations with almost no advertising and often odd hours.
"On Record Store Day, I'm like, 'Bucks, there are hundreds of people lining up for [shop] Good Records and they're in front of your store, so why not be open?'" Gavit says. "You should be open on Record Store Day to get some of the spillover and it frustrated me that he was not open on that day. It was inherently a challenge to get to his store because of a lack of parking and it was a tight fit in there. You had to be a real fan of music and that's who you'd be meeting, these fans who had to jump through all these hurdles because they wanted to be there."
Burnett's stores are a reflection of the unique career he carved out for himself in music. In 1975, members of the British comedy troupe Monty Python made a famous appearance during a pledge drive at KERA, the public television station where program manager Ron Devillier took a chance on them by introducing the group's groundbreaking sketch show Monty Python's Flying Circus to American airwaves.
Burnett called into the show as a fan and asked the group's performer and animator Terry Gilliam if he would join his Mr. Ed Fan Club. No such club existed, and Burnett said in a 2017 interview that he just "said the first name off the top of my head."
The joke got bigger and bigger until it became the perfect name for an underground music newsletter with a nationwide audience. It inspired a legendary show at the Bronco Bowl dubbed Edstock in 1984, with live performances by T-Bone Burnett, Joe Ely and Tiny Tim and a special appearance by actor Alan Young, who played Wilbur, the only human who could hear the talking horse on the Mr. Ed show.
The show ended up leaving a financial crater on his bank statement, but has since become a landmark moment for Dallas' growing music community. It would also give him stories that he could tell for years. He was known for bringing famous names back to his shop or just friendly visits backstage with The Who and Queen guitarist Brian May.
Burnett had a boundless ability to connect with people and built a massive community of friends in Dallas. Lane first met Bucks when she was just 11 years old and trying to start her musical path with her own band. She ran into Burnett two years later while selling records at the Dolly Python vintage store.
"I walked up to him and said 'You're gonna remember me' and he goes, 'Of course I remember!'" Lane says.
The two struck up a friendship and Lane went to work for him in 8-Track Museum and his other underground record shops "that was invite only and had all the collectors' items."
Lane says Burnett was more than just a source of employment. Bucks' love and knowledge for music did more than just inspire her to continue developing her own sound. He became a friend she could truly count on when she needed one most.
"He provided a safe haven for a misfit teenager that didn't really have a lot of friends and didn't have a lot of places to go where I was understood," Lane says. "He got me, and he was like a mentor, like a great source of encouragement. And he turned me on to the music that changed my life and guided me through a lot of difficult times in my life through loyalty and understanding.
"When I was lost, it was really easy to feel found again by just going to see Bucks," Lane adds.
