Archive for the ‘By Murphy’ Category

« Older Entries

More About Mama

Wednesday, September 1st, 2010

Murphy Henry

First of all, thank you all for the expressions of sympathy you have offered to me since Mama died. I can’t tell you how much it meant when you were placing orders by phone just to have you say, “I’m sorry to hear about your mother.”  And the cards and the emails have all meant so much. I hope to be back to regular blogging before long, but I still need to share some more thoughts about Mama. Losing her has been so hard. Thanks for your understanding.

The following is an essay my niece Caroline, daughter of my sister Nancy, wrote about Mama, her grandmother. She wrote it last year, her senior year in high school. It was so poignant we asked her to read it at Mama’s funeral, and she did. I thought it captured a lot about Mama and about our family. And also says a lot about the wonderful young woman Caroline is growing up to be.

My Grandmother

By Caroline Pate

My grandmother is one of the sweetest people I know. So when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, it came as a great shock to me. I found myself pushing away my extended family that I was once so close to. But it took my grandmother’s wise words to show me that even if the disease had changed our family, we needed to stick together for better or worse.

My grandmother- known as “Gaga” by my family- is like a storybook grandmother, a living reproduction of Mrs. Santa Claus. When I was young, my sister and I would stay at her house every other few weekends, and those visits were a treat. When we first arrived, we would rush to our beds to find the “bed presents” Gaga had left us. Priceless dollar store toys nestled under our pillows, a magnificent surprise. Then we would come to the dinner table to have the finest cuisine in the North Georgia Mountains laid before us. We would feast upon friend chicken and okra, corn pudding, and for desert, Gaga’s famous pound cake- all homemade. The next morning, we would wake up early to cruise yard sales and spoiled by my grandmother with previously owned treasures.

But my favorite memories are when my mother’s tight knit family was together. With my grandmother’s five daughters and seven grandchildren, the house was a bustling, happy mess. Gaga would be in the kitchen, while my mom and aunts would be playing bluegrass in the living room. My cousins and I were left to play. When we got older some of us went to play music and sing with our aunts. I loved watching my grandma close her eyes, the corners crinkling into a smile, and hearing her contented little chuckle when I would sing with my mother and sister. Eventually, all of us would sit down at the table to a big meal. Afterwards, the younger cousins would cajole some of our relatives into playing pinochle, the card game that our family had manipulated the rules for our own use and passed down for generations.

When Gaga was diagnosed, everything changed. We could no longer go on our family beach trips, because she would forget where she was. My mother had to take her keys away, which was an ordeal in itself.  But with Alzheimer’s, every thing is déjà vu. My grandmother would forget her keys were taken away and think she had lost them. Someone would tell her she could not drive anymore and she would call my mother, angry. She could no longer even cook- she would forget her dishes were in the oven and they would burn. She even forgot how to play pinochle. Eventually, visiting became less of a vacation and more of a chore. My grandparent’s activities were deduced to watching television and napping. It scared me to watch them become shells of the people they had once been, and it scared me even more to know that all of our memories would be forgotten, that even I would be forgotten. I hated that weren’t even family anymore- we were “caretakers”.

One night when I was in my room, the book I was reading suddenly reminded me of my grandmother. From the shelf above my bed, I pulled down a small wooden frame that my grandmother had given me one Christmas. I had almost forgotten about it. I opened up the back, and inside was a note that read:

Caroline,

When I was a girl in the Mt. Creek Baptist Church, I heard a preacher pray this prayer. I thought it was beautiful. It inspired me. I appropriated it for my own. I began praying it for myself…every day.

When the girls came along, I began praying it for them, and when you came along, I began praying it for you.

I may have missed a day or two praying this prayer, but some days I prayed it for you many times. I’m sure I’ve averaged praying this prayer for you once a day for all of your life.

And. I’ll continue to pray it for you every day for as long as I can pray…because I love you. Gaga

I then realized that because she had forgotten, I had to remember. Because our family could never be the same, now we needed to be together more than ever- just in a different way. Our family had gone through many hard times, but we needed to still be there for each other, like she was for us, every day. Pray for each other like she did for us, every day. Because she may have forgotten the prayer now, but I will never forget those words she framed for me:

Dear Father,

Help Caroline in the early morning of her life to catch hold of the things that of true and lasting value and pursue those things with great joy and enthusiasm.

Create the mix of circumstances that will bring about Your perfect will in her life.

In Jesus’ name I pray,

Amen.

(Mama gave a framed copy of the prayer Caroline talks about to each of her grandchildren. She was truly, as her preacher said at her service, a prayer warrior.)

Tags:
Posted in By Murphy | 4 Comments »

Mama

Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010

Murphy Henry

As some of you already know, on Friday, July 16, I lost my dear sweet Mama. Or as I called her “my little Mama Pajama.” She had had Alzheimer’s for several years but it was finally her congestive heart failure that took her. She was 85. Her death was not unexpected, but still these first weeks without her have been hard. Who is ever prepared to lose their mother?

Wynk Hicks (aka Mama, aka Grandmother) and Casey Henry. October 2008

Wynk Hicks (aka Mama, aka Grandmother) and Casey Henry. October 2008

As Fate would have it, my sisters and I and many of the nieces and nephews had already planned to be in Georgia that weekend for our annual Hiawassee picking party. We had known all week that Mama had been struggling with shortness of breath but she’d weathered so many storms in the last few years (including a heart attack) that we thought it entirely possible she would pull through again. One of the Greatest Generation, she was made of stern stuff. My sister Nancy, who was having her week-long summer visit with the parents, did a wonderful job of keeping us apprised of Mama’s condition, but neither she nor the Hospice nurse nor any of our round-the-clock caregivers had any idea that Thursday would be Mama’s last night.

The story of that last night, as it was told and retold during the weekend of the funeral, was filled with meaning. Mama, who for once was resting in bed, asked for the preacher. Nancy called him but he didn’t get the message. So Nancy and my sister Claire, who was there for the night, went back to the bedroom and read from the Bible, sang some songs, and had a prayer with her. Then Nancy asked Mama if she wanted to say a prayer. Mama said she did. And Nancy said it was as if her Alzheimer’s didn’t exist—she prayed a long, eloquent prayer as we had her do in church so many times before. Then Mama asked, “What’s the game plan for tomorrow?” Claire said, “What do you mean?” And Mama replied, “Tomorrow’s going to be a Big Day.” Still, at the time, we just didn’t know.

Our wonderful round-the-clock help, Rita and then Karen, each sat by Mama’s bed for a long time that evening and both later told us some of the things that Mama said. She looked for a long time at the big picture of us—her five daughters–that hangs on the wall near her bed and talked  about us. Mama said, “I’ve got doctors, and I’ve got teachers.” (And as I’m hearing the story I’m thinking, “What about me?”) And then Mama said, “And I’ve got musicians. Lots of musicians.” And she went on to say how proud she was of all of us and that we had “done a good job.” I felt like we had received her blessing.

She also told Rita that tomorrow she and her girls would be “stepping on the soil.” At the time, Rita thought that she might be referring to Heaven. But later Rita told us that she’d found out that “stepping on the soil” was an old country expression that referred to digging a grave and the soil was the earth which was thrown out onto the ground. (Have any of you heard that?)

Mama slept pretty well that night, with Karen close at hand, and early the next morning, Claire, who is one of the doctors, thought Mama was doing well enough for her to go back home to her work in Asheville, N.C. But when Nancy checked on Mama around 7 a.m. her breathing had taken a turn for the worse. Rita, bless her sweet heart, had had a bad feeling and had come to the house even though it wasn’t her shift. When she saw Mama she immediately called the preacher, the Hospice nurse, and Mama’s own doctor and said, “You better come now.” And they did.

Red and I had just about finished packing the car for the trip down and he had gone to gas up when Nancy called to say that Mama would probably die that morning. I, of course, burst into tears. Nancy, who handled this entire experience with unbelievable poise and grace, had the presence of mind to ask me if I’d like to say goodbye to Mama on the phone Oh, yes! So Nancy held the phone up to her ear and I told Mama I loved her and would miss her every day of my life. She could not respond, but I believe she heard me. What a blessing that was.

As we left the house, I grabbed some photo albums and pictures of Mama to have for the trip. And that was a good thing because we had not been on the road long when Nancy called to say that Mama had died. It was 9:10 a.m. I could hardly talk as I called Casey and Chris to tell them that their dear grandmother had passed away. Chris was coming to Georgia anyway for the picking party, but Casey was in Michigan performing with the Dixie Bee-liners who graciously finished up their gigs without a banjo player so she could fly down to Georgia. I wished so much that I could be with each of them. It was a long, sad trip home with many tears. I was so glad to have Red there, doing the driving and holding my hand when I would start crying. I talked to my sister Laurie many times both to give comfort and to receive it. She is the youngest of us (and is also a doctor), and I always thought she was Mama’s favorite. (Although I’m sure Mama would deny having a favorite.)

Once we arrived in Clarkesville, there were more tears but there were also sisters and nieces and friends and flowers, and, yes, church ladies bringing food. Together we five girls planned Mama’s funeral service. We even managed to get a good laugh remembering Mama’s instructions about picking out her casket. She’d told us, “Price the least expensive casket, then price the most expensive casket. Then buy the cheapest one and give the difference to the church.” We couldn’t quite bring ourselves to buy the pine box, but followed the spirit of her wishes as best we could.

I’d always imagined, as the oldest daughter, that I would speak at Mama’s funeral, but I found that I could not. Instead, four of the grandchildren took part in the service. Chris spoke extemporaneously about his beloved grandmother and Casey played the song Mama always sang us to sleep with, “There’s A Little Cabin,” on the banjo. Then, as Mama had requested, our Texas cousins sang “Now I Belong To Jesus” as she left the Clarkesville Baptist Church for the last time.

At the graveside service after a prayer and a poem, the preacher read a portion of one of my blogs about Mama and me playing Scrabble. It felt good to remember those happy times, and even smile a little, in the midst of so much grief.

I miss Mama so much but writing this, knowing you will read it, has helped me a lot. Thank you for listening.

Winnie Claire Murphy Hicks


January 21, 1925-July 16, 2010

Tags:
Posted in By Murphy, General | 11 Comments »

Backtracking: Part 2

Thursday, July 15th, 2010

Murphy Henry

Now we come to Bob Mc’s adventures in backtracking. Bob came to me about four years ago with absolutely no musical background. We’ve often remarked to each other that he started “below zero.” But tenacity he has. In spades.

After four years, Bob has lots of tunes that he can play well: All of Beginning Banjo Vol. 1, Old Joe Clark, the high break to Foggy Mt. Breakdown, and Lonesome Road Blues from Vol. 2, all of Misfits, all the Improvising songs, plus Roll in My Sweet Baby’s Arms, I’ll Fly Away, and When the Roll is Called up Yonder. That’s a lot of songs.

Now, as I told him at his Tuesday lesson, if he were taking banjo lessons from just about anybody else, he would be a Star Student. Would get an A Plus. Why? Because he can actually play the tunes.

But Bob is having problems hearing the chord changes to the songs. And because of that he has trouble with vamping, trouble with coming in for his break in a jam, and trouble recovering when he makes mistakes in his own playing.

And since my goal is to turn out students who can jam, Bob and I have been actively seeking a solution for this difficulty for years. I can’t tell you how much work we have done on vamping. I’ve had him try to do it by ear, I’ve had him try to do it by counting, I’ve had him memorize chord patterns. Frankly I thought if we just played the songs enough, he would just “get it.” It would all fall into place. The light bulb would come on. There would be joy in Mudville.

Alas, no joy. Because there was big part of problem that I wasn’t understanding.

Over and over I’ve told him Bob that when he’s vamping he he should be hearing the tune in his own head. But it’s taken me until recently to realize that he can’t keep the tune in his head when he’s away from the music. That was a bit of a shocker to me. I have no idea how he’s done as well as he has without being able to keep some version of the tune in his mind.

Finally on Tuesday, grasping at straws, I asked him if he knew the song Skip to My Lou. Yes, he seemed to recall it from grade school. There now, I thought, is a simple tune that he surely will be able to keep in his head. So I sat there and played guitar and sang the chorus over and over while he vamped. He picked up the chords fairly quickly, although that last measure gave him a bit of a problem. I asked him to then tell me what the chord pattern was. He was able to do that. We talked about how the last chord had to be G, since we were playing in the key of G. He wanted to know if that were true for all keys. I said yes. That was a revelation to him. He’d never thought of that before. He was extremely happy to been given that piece of information. It was like he had found another piece to this endless puzzle he is trying to put together.

I told him to sing the song, hum the song, think about the song all the way home. And to try to remember it in his head every day this week. And to try to vamp to the song he heard in his head. And, if he couldn’t recall it, to get out the Learning to Hear Chord Changes DVD and listen to it to refresh his memory. And if he dreams about it, so much the better!

I think we may be on to something. I can only hope so. I’ve got big plans for Bob and Skip to My Lou. I figure that we can start simple and then build up a repertoire of songs he can hear in his head. It may not be easy, but I do think it will work. There will be joy in Mudville!

P.S. I welcome suggestions from any of you who have dealt with this problem in your own playing.

Tags:
Posted in By Murphy, banjo | 8 Comments »

Square Dancing!

Thursday, July 1st, 2010

Murphy Henry

(Very little bluegrass content but banjo is mentioned!)

After spending a productive five days at Kaufman Kamp last week, I headed north to Louisville, Kentucky, for the National Square Dance Convention. I was driving 250 miles so I could dance for one day! Held in the Kentucky Expo Center, the convention was a huge affair which drew over 8,000 people from every state in the Union and several foreign countries.

One of the things I was looking forward to was dancing with Murphy Method student, Travis Cook. When I blogged about Square Dancing and Banjo Playing back in March, he sent a comment saying, “As a young caller (and beginning banjo student) from Kentucky, welcome to the world of Square Dancing! Glad you’re enjoying it!”

I sent back an email inquiring if he were a young person or just a new caller and asking if he was going to the Nationals in June. He responded saying he was 22, had been dancing since he was 13, started calling a few years later, and was originally from Knott County, Kentucky—“Coal country, deep in the hills. Bluegrass was a way of life!” He is now studying Computer Engineering in Louisville and works as a Web Services Consultant for First Quality Music and Sullivan Banjo Co. And he said, yes, he would be at the Nationals. He closed by saying, “Have fun at the festival! I hope you’ll write about your time there. I look forward to following your square dance journey!”

So a few days before Kaufman Kamp, I sent Travis an email with my contact info, telling him to call me on Saturday so we could hook up for a dance. He did and we did!

There were a number of different dance halls at the Expo Center—easy square dancing (Mainstream), harder square dancing (Plus), round dancing, clogging, a youth hall, a solo hall, and the arena with a live band at night. Travis was calling a “tip” (two dances in a row, one a singing call) and serving as emcee in the solo hall (for dancers who come without partners), so we arranged to meet there at 7:30 Saturday night.

As I walked into the solo hall, I realized that I didn’t know what Travis looked like, and if he had been watching the Beginning Banjo DVDs he might not recognize me, twenty years after their making! But since he was the only young man in the room I figured it out, and we delightedly gave each other a big “yellowrock,” which is square dance lingo for “hug.” He introduced me to his girlfriend, Dorothy, who is also a dancer.

Travis didn’t have to call right away, so he asked me to dance and away we went! He is a smooth and confident dancer who likes to create a good time on the dance floor. We danced a tip, and then he had to get ready to call, so I sat down beside Dorothy. We talked a bit and she told me she and Travis had met at a square dance and that they had been going together nine years. So it occurred to me that if she had been dancing that long…..she probably could dance the boy’s part (as many women do) so I asked her if she could and she said yes, so we hit the dance floor!

Dorothy is a lively, assured dancer, and we were dancing in a square that had several other female couples and it was so much fun! Between dances the composition of the square changed a little bit, and at one point there were SEVEN women and one man squaring up. Then a woman from the sidelines jumped up and asked the man if she could dance in his place and he graciously ceded his spot to her, so we had an all-female square. I found out later I can get a “dangle” to hang on my square dancing badge that says I’ve danced in an all-female square. I can put it alongside my two other “dangles,” one for square dancing in an IHOP (!), and the other, a Purple Heart, for dancing in a square with three callers! Great sense of humor, these square dance folks!

Dorothy and I were dancing while Travis was calling and he did a great job. He’d been tossing down cough drops like candy because he had bronchitis, but you couldn’t tell it when he hit the stage. His singing call was “Ghost Riders In The Sky,” one of my favorite songs, and his voice was coming out strong and clear. I never in my wildest dreams imagined I’d ever be square dancing while a Murphy Method banjo student did the calling. Life does take some wonderfully unexpected turns!

After Travis’s tip, I congratulated him on his singing and calling and said goodbye, with another yellowrock, of course. It’s the square dance way! I headed for the Plus hall where I danced until 11:00 p.m. Then I took my tired and blistered feet back to the hotel room, crawled in bed with a couple of cold Coronas, watched some old episodes of House on TV, and blissfully fell asleep.

My square dance journey takes another completely unbelievable turn this Saturday when I will square dance on a parade float in Middletown, Virginia. The only thing I can think to say about that is: Well, I never!

Stay tuned for my next blog which might possibly be about banjo!

Tags:
Posted in By Murphy | 2 Comments »

From the Archives: Bits and Pieces

Wednesday, June 30th, 2010

murphybook_smallThis is one in our continuing occasional series of excerpts from Murphy’s Banjo Newsletter articles. This is from the August 1990 issue, and appears on page 169 of Murphy’s book …And There You Have It! I think this is one of the funniest incidents she recounted about me. I remember doing this. The keys didn’t even taste bad at all!

My daughter Casey, age twelve, has been taking Suzuki piano lessons for two years. The Suzuki Method emphasizes ear training, which I love. So, I’m in the kitchen (a rare occurrence, I assure you) listening to Casey practice piano, and I hear her picking out the notes to Yankee Doodle. I can tell that she’d doing it by ear because it is a little hesitant, a two-steps-forward-one-step-backward kind of affair. But, eventually, she gets it and plays it all the way through.

“That’s great, Casey!” I call to her. “How did you do that?” (I suppose my question was meant to solicit a response such as “I did it all by myself” or “I did it by ear” or “I wasn’t using the book, Mommy” or even “I don’t know, I just did it.”)

Her response? “I did it with my tongue!” She was playing the piano with her tongue. My response” “C-A-S-E-Y!!!”

Posted in By Murphy, From the Archives, General | 1 Comment »

Kaufman Kamp

Thursday, June 24th, 2010

Murphy in PajamasGreetings from Kaufman Kamp! I am sitting here in the kitchen of the suite Casey and I are sharing at Maryville College watching Casey pour her morning orange juice. And as you can see, I’m still in my pajamas!

Today will be the fourth teaching day at camp and I am happy to report that all my classes have gone swimmingly. (Does anybody say “swimmingly” anymore? For all you Y genners that means “great.”) At Kauf Kamp each teacher sees all the levels of students, not just one section. So I will see the Beginners, Intermediates (two sections), and Advanced students twice each for two, two-hour-long teaching periods.

You can get a lot done in two hours so the Beginners (whom I have seen twice already) have learned the low and high breaks to “Boil Them Cabbage Down” (from the Misfits DVD) and have learned to vamp to it and come in and out of their breaks and add an ending lick. We performed for Casey’s Banjo and Mandolin 101 class yesterday (folks who have never played banjo or mandolin before but want to learn) and my folks did, well, swimmingly! I was so proud of them! And Casey’s students played for us, too, picking out a fine version of “Skip to My Lou” (from the Beginning Mandolin DVD).

I’ve been taking both Intermediate classes through “Blue Ridge Cabin Home”, first a high break (from Easy Songs) and then a, more or less, improvised break (from, duh, Improvising!). Of course, my view of improvising—which is to play licks against chords with no melody at first—goes counter to everything the other teachers at the camp are telling them, but so it goes and what else is new. I think and hope they all left the class realizing that they, too, can improvise. As I said to them as they were leaving class, “This isn’t brain surgery.” To which one guy promptly replied, “It’s harder!” Good one!

The Advanced Class is being treated to a massive dose of “how Earl done it” beginning with “Bluegrass Breakdown” (from the Rawhide DVD). I had told them in the material in my section of the Kamp Book to “leave your melodic licks at home” but apparently some of them hadn’t read the fine print. They were gently told to “play that break again and leave out the melodic crap and put in something Earl would play.” Today we will look at Rudy Lyle’s fantastic break to Rawhide (from the DVD of the same name). The tune is done is the key of C and we will examine it both capoed (at the 5th fret) and uncapoed a la Craig Smith and Casey Henry. (I recorded it capoed myself being somewhat unadventurous at the time and more concerned with “how Rudy done it.”)

And in just an hour or so I will be explaining the mysteries of Learning To Hear Chord Changes (from the DVD of the same name) to a room full of students who possibly think I have a magic formula to dispense. Alas, no! I will be showing them that it’s just guess work at the beginning, trial and error, hunt and peck. But I will be assuring them that it will get easier.

So I will close now and go fix my oatmeal and read some in my current book, Beyond Belief: The Secret Gospel of Thomas by Elaine Pagels. As the Cowardly Lion said, “Fascinatin’” And to all you students who couldn’t be here—especially Zac, Susan, and Luke—we miss you! Maybe next year!

Tags:
Posted in By Murphy, Camps | 3 Comments »

Pickin’ With The Family

Thursday, June 17th, 2010
Murphy Henry

Murphy Henry

This past weekend, Casey and Red and I attended the high school graduation of my niece Caroline Marshall Pate down near Charlotte, N.C. These teenage rites-of-passage have become a Big Deal in our extended family, so all four of my sisters and their offspring were there, along with all three brothers-in-law. Which, I do believe, was a first. This was also the first high school graduation that my parents have missed, so I was aware of a little sad place in my heart amongst all the celebrating. They are simply unable to travel anymore, so we were on our own. Scary.

Naturally, when this many of us get together, music is always a possibility, but since this was Caroline’s Big Day and my motto was “It’s all about Caroline,” I checked with my sister Nancy to see what she thought about the idea of a small family jam. She wisely said, “Let’s wait and see.”

After the ceremony, when we’d all gathered back at the Pate Place and were wolfing down pizza, shrimp, watermelon, and cake (Caroline’s faves) and catching up on niece Helena’s new boyfriend and niece Mac’s summer job, one of Caroline’s friends asked if we were going to play music. I checked in with Nancy saying, “Vicki asked” and again she wisely said, “After presents and cake.”

Opening presents was a bit poignant as, in the past, Mama has always given the grandkids a graduation quilt which they have all taken on to college. (Even Christopher.) Luckily, Mama had made a lot of quilts (usually from our old clothes!), so Caroline got hers. I enjoyed seeing her and her cousins pointing to bits of fabric and saying, “I’ve got that in my quilt, too!” Mama would have so enjoyed that.

As everyone was finishing off their cake, I started rounding up musicians and instruments because It Was Time. I grabbed a guitar, Red, a mandolin, Casey another guitar (she was working on her calluses for leading the slow jam at Kaufman Kamp!), and bro-in-law Mike Johnson (Argen’s husband and builder of my Gibson neck), a banjo. Friends and family gathered around in attentive audience formation.

We started off briskly with the Stanley Brothers’ “Shouting on the Hills of Glory” in G because I happened to think of it. And I knew Nancy could add the high baritone part above Red’s lead and my tenor. We were off and running! Other songs that surfaced during the course of the evening included:

Uncloudy Day
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms
More Handsome Men Than One (Casey)
M and M Blues (me, at a request from Caroline’s dad, Rad)
East Virginia Blues
When You and I Were Young Maggie (Nancy)
Cry From the Cross
Shine, Hallelujah, Shine
Brethren We Have Met To Worship
Do Lord
Mountain Dew
This Little Light of Mine

Nancy and daughters Caroline and Natalie, who harmonize beautifully together, sang “Angel Band” and “Washed in the Blood”. Then later in the proceedings Nancy took over on guitar to sing some of her original songs including “Georgia in the Middle of June” and “Pray For Rain”.

And if you notice a preponderance of gospel songs on the list, well, that’s because Caroline’s aunts were raised Baptist and grew up on the Broadman Hymnal. (I know you weren’t and didn’t, Marty, and I feel your pain.) So, we did many of these songs as “sing alongs,” which is, technically, not the Bluegrass Way, but which I am coming to love again. Also, my niece Mac, who just finished her second year at Yale, is deep into listening to the Hicks Sisters’ gospel project, With Sweet Accord, and has learned the words to most of the songs on the cassette. She was joining in with great gusto and her enthusiasm made me happy. I strongly suspect she will be taking up the banjo any day now!

But we had The Most Fun with the song “This Little Light of Mine”, which for us, dates back to the Primary Department in Sunday School where we learned it with hand motions. Your index finger is “the light” and you wave it around to “shine.” You also cup your other hand over your finger when you sing the verse “Hide it under a bushel, NO! I’m gonna let it shine.” And when you sing “Won’t let Satan blow it out” instead of saying the word “blow” you actually pucker your lips and expel a breath of air. All very exciting stuff to a six-year-old. And here we were, fifty years later, still getting on our “inner child.”

After those initial verses, sister Claire led us into the third with “Shine all over Waxhaw, I’m gonna let it shine.” (Waxhaw is where Caroline and family live. We usually sing “Clarkesville,” our old hometown.) Then I thought we were done with the song, but NO! Claire started in on “Shine all over Caroline, I’m gonna let it shine” and actually got up and moved over to “shine” her “light” on Caroline, who took it all in with much aplomb. And then I thought we were done. But, NO! Claire was on to, “Won’t let Caroline blow it out, I’m gonna let it shine,” which I thought was hysterical, and totally appropriate for an eighteen-year-old heading off for college in the fall with all the myriad temptations that will be waiting for her there. (I’m sure she’ll do fine, Nance. She’s been Raised Right.)

I see I have failed to mention my nephew Andrew, 14, (Laurie and David’s son) and his friend Tristan (visiting from Clarkesville who is my occasional mandolin student and who was completely in awe of Red’s playing). They were both Good Boys and pretty much stayed out of the way. They will no doubt Go Far. (And if you’re wondering about all these Random Capitalizations, I got the idea from Ferrol Sams’ fabulous book Run With the Horsemen, which is about growing up in rural Georgia in the forties. If you haven’t read this, Marty, it’s A Must. He’s a doctor, too.)

Red and I got up early the next morning to drive the six hours back to Winchester where I had an afternoon square dance to attend in Hagerstown, Maryland. And durned if we didn’t dance to “This Little Light of Mine”! How weird is that! I was dancing with one of the West Virginia callers, Rich Steadman, and we were singing to each other as we promenaded around the square. And then, in talking to Rich’s wife Lou (who was kind enough to let me Dance With Her Man), I found out Rich is from Maryville, Tenn., which is where I will be next week for Kaufman Kamp. Again, what a strange, unforeseen connection. Is the Universe speaking? I hope I’m listening!

And on that note I will close, get out of my pajamas and into my day clothes, and go pick up my car at the Toyota repair place. I wanted it to be in good shape for my drive to Kaufman Kamp and then onto the National Square Dance Convention in Louisville, Kentucky! See you in one place or the other!

Tags: ,
Posted in By Murphy, jamming | 3 Comments »

Report on Midwest Banjo Camp

Thursday, June 10th, 2010
Murphy Henry

Murphy Henry

I am happy to tell you that Midwest Banjo Camp was a smashing success. The campus of Olivet College in Olivet, Michigan, was lush and green and the food in the dining hall was more than edible and at times even good. (Okay, maybe I was just hungry!) The accommodations for the staff were new, four-bedroom, two-bath student townhouses with a kitchen, which we didn’t actually use except to chill our bottled water in the fridge. (Thank you, Stan Werbin, for that!) The temperature in the bedroom seemed quite hot the first night, but when I figured out that the air conditioning vent was under my bed and slid the frame over, all was cool from there on out. So, those are the things that matter to an instructor!

The classes? Oh, those were good, too. Camp directors Ken Perlman and Stan Werbin (of Elderly Instruments) had assembled a mighty team of bluegrass instructors including Bill Evans, Bill Keith, Jens Kruger, Ned Luberecki, Pete Wernick, Dave Talbot, Ryan Cavanaugh (jazz banjo), James McKinney, Mike Sumner, and moi (the lone female).

One of my favorite classes teamed me up with three of the old-time banjo players—Mac Benford, Michael Miles, and Brad Leftwich—to demonstrate singing while playing the banjo. Having never workshopped with those guys (to coin a verb), I didn’t know what to expect and thought we might all do some playing together, trading breaks bluegrass style, but instead we each took a turn singing a song of our choice while playing the banjo. Normally, I have a full bluegrass band backing me up when I sing, or at the very least Red on guitar, so this was something new for me. Nevertheless, I gave it my best shot and for my first number sang “I’m Going Down the Road Feeling Bad” (“Lonesome Road Blues”) because it has lots of verses and the old-time guys were all singing these mournful ballads with interminable story lines. Singing while sitting down, I seemed to be channeling Uncle Dave Macon (or at least Leroy Troy) and started stomping one or both feet exuberantly as the spirit began to move me. I only wished I had known how to spin my banjo around!

For my second number I chose “East Virginia Blues” (seven verses), which, as I told the folks, “sounds exactly like “Lonesome Road Blues” except for the words.” (I only realized the chord pattern was the same as I was introducing it.) Then for my third number I gave ‘em a little “White Dove”, “just to show you I can sing something besides Lonesome Road Blues.” They all thought that was funny and laughed so I felt loved. Which is all I wanted anyhow.

What was really cool on “White Dove” was that by the third chorus folks were starting to sing along, so we had sort of a Morman Tabernacle Choir effect with some marvelous, rumbley bass voices. At the end I had them double back and sing the chorus one more time saying, “I think you’ve just about got it!”

Perhaps that gospel number was what inspired Michael Miles to trot out “I’ll Fly Away”. He was playing a fretless banjo, which was tuned low, maybe in F, and he sang the song fairly slow (not bluegrass tempo) and asked everyone to sing along on the “I’ll fly away’s” and the choruses. Once again, there were those throbbing bass voices, not too loud, perhaps a bit tentative even, but resonant and….well, comforting. I think now, as I’m writing this, that that sound probably reminded me of my granddaddy’s bass singing in church when I was little. So hearing everyone joining voices together sparked one of those special moments for me, when I felt all this emotion welling up inside and I was aware enough to pay attention to it, to feel it, and to think, “This is what I like about this music.” As Brad Paisley says in a current country song, “I live for little moments like that.” Those are the ones that keep you going. And that one has certainly kept me going.

I’m looking forward to experiencing and perhaps creating some more “magic moments” at Kaufman Kamp which commences in only ten short days. Hope to see you there!

Tags:
Posted in By Murphy, Camps | 7 Comments »

International Country Music Conference

Thursday, June 3rd, 2010
Murphy Henry

Murphy Henry

I had a wonderful time attending the 27th International County Music Conference in Nashville this past weekend. You can see me hard at work in the picture below!

I can’t tell you how much fun it is to be hanging out with the people who write the books about country and bluegrass music. Bill Malone, who wrote Country Music, USA (and who is working on a biography of Mike Seeger); Wayne Daniel, who wrote Pickin’ On Peachtree: A History of Country Music in Atlanta; Nolan Porterfield, who wrote the definitive biography of Jimmy Rodgers; and of course Neil Rosenberg who wrote Bluegrass: A History, which was the subject of the panel I was on.

The Charles K. Wolfe Memorial Panel Discussion: Bluegrass: A History: It's History, Impact, and Future Left to Right: Erika Brady, David Royko, Murphy, Kevin Kehrberg, Neil Rosenberg

The Charles K. Wolfe Memorial Panel Discussion: Bluegrass: A History: It's History, Impact, and Future Left to Right: Erika Brady, David Royko, Murphy, Kevin Kehrberg, Neil Rosenberg

I thought you might like to hear some of the titles of the papers that were presented:

Smiley Burnette: B Western Sidekick and Country Musician

Tex Ritter: From Folk Singer to Country Legend

The Song’s All Wrong: Why Musical Form Matters in Country Music

Minnie Pearl and William Faulker: Southern Music as Part of the Literary Renaissance

And a wonderful presentation by Bill Malone: In Honor of Mike Seeger: His Impact and Significance to Country Music

Don’t those make you want to come to the conference next year?

As I mentioned during my hard hour’s work on the panel (!), I reviewed Wayne Daniel’s book for Bluegrass Unlimited (years ago) and I was especially taken with his opening, which I remember well. He wrote, “If I had been blessed with an iota of musical talent this book would never have been written. I would have been too busy picking a guitar and singing country songs.” Love it, Wayne. I’m not sure what that had to do with Neil’s book, but it seemed relevant at the time.

Right now, I’m trying to finishing packing for my early morning departure to Lansing, Michigan, for the Midwest Banjo Camp, which is being held at Olivet College in Olivet, Michigan. Interestingly enough, Casey and the Dixie Bee-liners will be appearing close by on Friday and Saturday at the Niles Bluegrass Festival in Niles, Michigan. Weird to have her so close by, yet not be able to go see her!

So, in the interest of my actually being able to get a few hours of sleep before my alarm goes off at the ungodly (for me) hour of 6 a.m., I will close. [And I know all you hard-working early birds are rolling your eyes!] Hope I see some of you in Michigan. If not there, Kaufman Kamp is coming up soon!

Tags: ,
Posted in By Murphy | 2 Comments »

Books on Bluegrass

Thursday, May 27th, 2010
Murphy Henry

Murphy Henry

This morning, I am getting ready to head for Nashville for the International Country Music Conference which is being held at Belmont University. In past years I have presented papers (one on Sally Ann Forrester, one on Bessie Lee Mauldin—you can see I like to write about women with double first names!), but this year I am going to be part of a panel which will discuss Neil Rosenberg’s excellent book Bluegrass: A History.

Bluegrass: A History was first published in 1985, so this years marks its 25th anniversary. (Needless to say, if you do not have a copy, let your fingers do the walking RIGHT NOW over to Amazon and order one.) BAH, as Neil refers to it, is the only book, to my knowledge, to cover in detail the history of bluegrass music. And until fairly recently it was one of the few books that dealt with bluegrass in any way, shape, or form.

Nowadays, more books about bluegrass have found their way onto my book shelves and I thought, in honor of Bluegrass: A History, I would list some of these for you. I highly recommend them all.

The Music of Bill Monroe by Neil Rosenberg and Charles Wolfe (discography and text)

Finding Her Voice: The Saga of Women in Country Music by Mary Bufwack and Robert Oermann

Can’t You Hear Me Callin’: The Life of Bill Monroe by Richard D. Smith

Man of Constant Sorrow: My Life and Times by Dr. Ralph Stanley with Eddie Dean

The Bill Monroe Reader edited by Tom Ewing (collected articles about Monroe)

The Stonemans: An Appalachian Family and the Music That Shaped Their Lives by Ivan Tribe

Will You Miss Me When I’m Gone: The Carter Family & Their Legacy in American Music by Mark Zwonitzer with Charles Hirshberg

Come Hither to Go Yonder: Playing Bluegrass with Bill Monroe by Bob Black (banjo player with Monroe)

I Hear A Voice Calling: A Bluegrass Memoir by Gene Lowinger (fiddle player with Monroe)

I hope that sometime in the near (or far) future I can add to the list Pretty Good For a Girl: Pioneer Women in Bluegrass by Murphy Hicks Henry. (NOT PUBLISHED YET!!!!!)

There are a few others which I can’t find on my shelves right now and I’m out of time! Gotta finish packing, eat breakfast, and hit the road. Ten hours to Nashville! I’m taking my well-worn copy of BAH for Neil to sign. Better go put it in my suitcase right now or I’ll forget it. Happy Memorial Day weekend! Drive careful!

Tags: ,
Posted in By Murphy, General | 1 Comment »

« Older Entries