The Murphy Method Blog

Today I have a favor to ask of you loyal TMM Blog readers. I’m working on redesigning my own website for a class that I’m taking, and adding a working store to it. If you’d care to take a minute to check it out and let me know what you think, I’d really appreciate it. It’s not all built yet (there’s only one item in the store!) but there’s enough there that you can get an idea of what it will look like. All comments welcome. You can leave them below, or email them to themurphymethod@gmail.com.

Thanks!!

We recently sold our old Dodge band-van, one that had carried us to many performances years ago. The van had been with us for 23 years, but it was time for it to find a new home.

Talk about nostalgia! We bought this van new in 1985, when Casey was 7 years old and Christopher was 4. This new van was larger and longer than our old one, and I had a high, white fiberglass top installed on it to make it easier to change clothes in at the shows. We had a full-time 5-piece bluegrass band back then, and we drove the new van all over the country. Along with going to a great many shows in our home area of Florida and Georgia, the van carried our “Red & Murphy” band to perform at festivals and concerts as far away as Louisiana, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maine, and even Canada. The van got a lot of miles on it in just a few years.

After we moved here to Virginia and shifted our musical emphasis to running the Murphy Method, we still used the van a lot. We drove it to play many shows back in Florida and Georgia, as well in other states, and Murphy loaded it up with Murphy Method tapes and advertising for the IBMA convention each year. But finally we quit doing much traveling, and the van became my personal car for some time. Then after Christopher reached age 16, he drove the van during high school. After he finished school and moved away I began driving it again, because the van’s endurance, and the durability of its Dodge 318 V-8 engine, were phenomenal. However, as gasoline prices kept rising along with maintenance costs, I couldn’t justify driving it forever, and it finally sat in the driveway most of the time. It had over 260,000 miles on it, but I didn’t want to let it go.

Then, just a few weeks ago, opportunity knocked. A man living near here said he wished he had that van, to fix it up and use it as a camping vehicle for himself and his own kids. So we made the transaction, and now the old van has a new life. But I took a couple of pictures before it left us. Here they are:

Some of my newest Misfits got together on Saturday to jam—without me—and I asked a couple of them to share their experiences. I hope some of you who are taking lessons from a teacher will consider getting together with some fellow students. All it takes is one person (or in this case one couple) to shoulder the task of making it happen! 

So, here’s what Susan, who has been taking just a few months, has to say:

Saturday some of us adult beginners got together at Mark and Ellen’s house to pick a few. And a mighty few it was too! Four to be exact, because that is all I know! We started with “Banjo in the Hollow,” moved right into “Cripple Creek,” next came “Cumberland Gap” – my personal favorite–and then blew right into “Foggy Mountain Breakdown,” where of course mine broke down. Being the newest misfit, I am a little behind my banjo buddies in learning some of the other oldtime favorites, but that did not stop me from practicing my vamping in G, C, and D, with an occasional E minor. Ellen happily accompanied us on my 0-18 Martin guitar and Bass-Man Bob thumped out some good rhythm and then moved on to singing lead with his own Martin guitar accompaniment.

We all inspected each other’s instruments, or at least SOME of us inspected SOME of our instruments – I can’t understand why no one wants to inspect my four-pound Good Time open back in this decidedly bluegrass jam group. If anybody out there can figure out why, let me know! I LOVE the thing! We all ate pop corn and pretzels, compliments of Mark and Ellen, and oooooo-ed and aaaaaaah-ed over Banjo Bob’s Gibson. Tired, happy, and totally banjo-ed out, we again proved true Bass-Man Bob’s comment from our last jam with Murphy, “There are all levels of incompetence here.” And there you have it! (….as Murphy would say!)

And here’s what Bob, who’s been taking a couple of years, has to say.

Read the rest of this entry »

I promised that you’d get a follow-up report on the show we played recently with some friends, and here it is. To begin with, Murphy and I walked into the performing venue (the local Moose club) to find that thanks to Charlie and Charlotte, the sound system was already set up and working—a real plus for any job. There were 10 mikes on the stage, all ready for vocals and instruments. They and their band (the Sweetwater String Band—Charlie, Charlotte, Larry, Troy, and me) were to play the first and last sets of the day—at 10:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m. —a pretty long day. So we got on the stage and started the show.

Now, at 10:00 on a Sunday morning you don’t generally expect that the crowd will have shown up yet. We began the set with an audience of 18 people. That didn’t matter, though, because we had a good time playing our set of gospel material. And everybody in the band was aware of the music—WATCHING and LISTENING to what was happening, and responding to each other, which made the music not only better but also more enjoyable. I played mostly mandolin, but picked up the fiddle to play harmony with Larry on a couple of slower numbers.

Then several local bands played their sets, and their sound suffered from a current fad: Instead of using individual vocal mikes, each band wanted to sing around one big condenser microphone. However, in this particular room, that big mike could not be turned up very much without feeding back, so the singing was hard to hear. This went on with one band after another, proving that the bands weren’t WATCHING and LISTENING to the other bands on stage and seeing that the mike setup wasn’t working, but instead kept asking to use that one mike which couldn’t pick up their voices very well.

Also, as I watched the bands, I could see that most of them weren’t listening to each other on stage. They all had a well-practiced set of music to play, but in most cases each band member just played and sang his own part without listening to their whole band and responding to the other band members. This took some of the life out of the show.

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Here’s something that came up at a lesson yesterday that I thought I’d share. One of my beginning fiddle students, who is taking up fiddle for the first time at age 71, bless her heart, was having a not-too-good lesson. Her playing was not as smooth as she wanted it to be and her bow was skittering around. Somehow, as she was talking, she mentioned that she’d been raking leaves all day. Well! There was the answer! I told her, “Suzi, you cannot do something strenuous like raking leaves—especially all day long—and then expect to come to a fiddle lesson and play well. Your fine motor skills have been shot! Your muscles are tired, your brain is tired. It’s just too much!”

I learned this the hard way, thirty years ago in Florida. Sometimes before a gig, I would work in the yard for several hours. Mowing the grass, using the clippers to trim the edges, maybe even doing some weeding. (I was young, I had lots of energy! I think this was also BK—before kids!) When I got on stage that night, I found out my hands felt like LEAD. My fingers wouldn’t move like I wanted them to. They felt clumsy and huge. I think I even remember them trembling after one particularly long afternoon with the clippers! I finally figured out: no yard work before a gig! (I later extended that to housework, too! No vacuuming!)

I know it’s not always possible to avoid doing heavy work before a lesson (or even your own practice session). But, if you have a choice, put off the strenuous activities till later! Or as one of my banjo students said (when I told him this story), “I just think I’ll take a nap before my lesson!” That’s not exactly what I had in mind, Bob! Always a smart alec…..

For those of you who couldn’t come to Dalton’s service, but who wanted to, here are some pictures from the memorial pickin’ we had at the shop the afternoon after the funeral.

Dalton Brill’s barber pole.

Picking in the shop. L-R: Murphy’s student Logan on banjo (you’ve read about him in previous blog posts), Murphy on fiddle, Red on mandolin, Gerald Crowell on guitar at right.

Murphy picking “Under The Double Eagle” on Dalton’s banjo.

Bass player Marshall Wilborn, one of Dalton’s Wildcats, taking in the music.

Wildcats David McLaughlin and Chris Henry.

Some of Dalton’s barbering implements. Note his CD, prominently displayed.

Dalton’s sharpening strop.

I recently agreed to play a charity fundraiser with some friends, Charlie and Charlotte and their Sweetwater String Band. I’ve have played quite mandolin on a few gigs with Charlie and Charlotte over the years, but for this show, since one or two of their regular pickers weren’t available, they needed to include a couple of folks I hadn’t performed with before, Troy on banjo and Larry on fiddle.

Now, when you have a public performance coming up, what do you do to get ready? Along with your own individual practice, to make sure you’re warmed up on your own instrument, the whole band needs to get together and rehearse to make sure they can play their best together. So we all got together last Sunday to practice at Charlotte’s house, and started running over the material for the two sets which Charlotte planned to play at the show.

These five musicians had never performed together before, but we all knew what to do: WATCH and LISTEN. To know when to play lead or sing harmony, LISTEN to the bandleader’s instructions and preferences, and remember them. To know when to play backup or be quiet, WATCH and LISTEN to what all the other people are doing, and don’t step on them. To know when to split a lead break, WATCH and LISTEN. Be ready for the subtle, sometimes almost-instant “handoff” from the other lead player, so that you can take over the second half of the break without hesitation.

This also brings up some “Don’t’s” which you can figure out well enough: when playing, DON’T pay attention just to yourself as the rest of the band listens to each other and tries to sound their best together. DON’T throw in all your favorite licks at every opportunity, but play (1) what belongs best in the song and (2) what sounds best in that particular group. DON’T make the show all about you, but concentrate on making the bandleader(s) sound as good as you can– they’re the people who hired you. Back them up. That’s what you’re there for.

This isn’t hard, but you do need to have the right attitude. I’m glad to say that everybody knew what to do in the rehearsal, and we sounded fine. I’m looking forward to the show.

Don’t worry, you’ll get a report.

[This is my Banjo Newsletter column from May 1986. It did not, in fact, make it into my book. Guess there wasn’t enough about banjo playing in it! I reprint it here to share with you my first glimpse of Dalton Brill’s Barber Shop where I’ve taught for the last 22 years.]

Well, folks, greetings from the thriving metropolis of Winchester, Virginia! WE HAVE MOVED! It’s over! It’s done! No more following a 24-foot U-Haul truck through the mountains at 25 miles per hour! No more wandering around in Columbia, South Carolina, looking for Interstate 77! And no more wondering whether we are going to like this house that we have just committed a lifetime of payments to. We love it!

But, why Winchester? Well, now, I’m not really a big believer in signs but….on our first visit to Winchester, back in December, naturally one of our first concerns was to find a place where I could teach banjo. I mean, first things first. Not four blocks from the house where we were staying [with David McLaughlin], there it was: Brill’s Barber Shop and Musicians’ Shop—Specializing in Bluegrass and Country Music. Now I have taught at several different music stores in my time, but none of them has ever mentioned the word “bluegrass” in its logo, marquee, or advertising. That was Sign #1. Red and I went in and were introduced to the proprietor, Dalton Brill, who, being between haircuts, was sitting down playing his banjo. (Sign #2.) It was a Gibson. (Sign #3.)

Now in order to understand Sign #4, which is a biggie, I will have to digress for just a moment. On Christmas Eve, John and Lynn Hedgecoth [Red’s uncle and his wife, both musicians] came over to our old house in Hawthorne, Florida, to exchange gifts, see how much our kids had grown, pick a little, and gossip about Prominent Bluegrass Musicians. John just happens to be one of the best banjo players in the world. In between Bill Monroe stories, he was wandering around looking at all our books. He came back and said, “Is that a Don Reno Instruction Book you have? I’ve never seen one.”

“No,” I said, “that’s a Don Reno Song Book. I traded Don Wayne for it up in New Jersey. I didn’t know Don Reno had published an instruction book.”

“Oh, yes,” said John. “I’ve always wanted one.”

“Well, if I ever see any,” I said, “I’ll get two. One for me and one for you.”

So what do you think happened? Up in Winchester the very next week, I walked over to the rack of music books in Brill’s and found a whole slew of Don Reno Banjo Instruction Books. And that was Sign #4. I bought two.

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We’d like to bring your attention to the November issue of Banjo Newsletter magazine. It is the 35th Anniversary issue, celebrating continuous publication since the first issue in November 1973. It features all sorts of history and reminiscences about the magazine, including a tab from the very first issue, and many tributes to founder Hub Nitchie. All the columnists reflect on their years with the magazine and Murphy returns to write her “On The Road” column. Especially exciting is the long-awaited return of the Flint Hill Flash, intrepid reporter from the Flint Hill community in North Carolina, where everyone plays banjo and wants to pick like Earl. If you’ve never read BNL before, this is the perfect issue to start with. Call them up (800-759-7425), subscribe, and ask them to start you with this special issue.

As you saw on our November 3rd Blog, my good friend and banjo-playing buddy Dalton Brill died on October 29. I’ve been teaching at Dalton’s combination Barber Shop and Musician’s Shop since we moved to Winchester in 1986. As I told the folks at Dalton’s funeral, our friend David McLaughlin had been instrumental (no pun intended!) in getting us to move to Virginia from Florida and one of his hooks was that he knew a place where I could teach banjo. David said it was just down the street from his house on the Olde Towne Mall.

So when Red and I drove to Winchester to check things out, we went by the shop and met Dalton. He was very gracious, as I learned he always was. I told him I’d heard he had an opening for a banjo teacher. He told me that he’d never had anyone teaching at his shop before, but he was willing to give it a try. We negotiated lesson prices and a commission for him and I was all set. It wasn’t until years later when Dalton and I were reminiscing about our first meeting that I found out that Dalton didn’t know me from Adam’s house cat and that David had never said anything to him about my teaching there! But, as usual, Dalton rose to the occasion—being the Southern Gentleman that he was—and wanting to spare me any embarrassment, he just said sure, I could teach there. He was just hoping I could actually play the banjo!

What he didn’t tell me was that his dog Shotzie—a Doberman pinscher—stayed in the back room during the day (and in the shop at night), and that I’d have to walk through there to get into the shop (unless I wanted to come in the front door and walk past all the men waiting for haircuts). I’m afraid of dogs in general (and men getting haircuts in particular), so I opted instead for crawling through a window into my teaching space. (The window was an indoor old-fashioned type that slid up and was low to the ground so it wasn’t hard to do.) Dalton later told me that he got a real kick out of seeing me crawling thought that window. I guess it was sorta funny looking!

Dalton was pretty much solely responsible for all the students who started lessons with me to begin with. Not only did he run an ad in the paper, he also corralled any of his customers who showed the slightest interest in guitar or banjo. I’ve written about Dalton several times in Banjo Newsletter (those columns are collected in my book….) and maybe we’ll post those later.

Murphy’s Misfits—the first group of my students to jam together—originated in his shop and as you can see from the pictures posted on Monday, the tradition continues. The current group of unofficial Misfits (I haven’t told them they are Misfits yet!) is, left to right: Chick, Steve, Bob Van, Mark, Susan, and Bob Mc. I’m the short person in the front in the green Kaufman Kamp T-shirt with the STELLING BANJO.

In the hour and a half jam we had on Saturday, we played six tunes: Banjo in the Hollow, Cripple Creek, Boil Them Cabbage, Cumberland Gap, Foggy Mountain Breakdown, and I Saw The Light. Everybody did great! We actually had NO train wrecks. I was so proud of all the students. I’m hoping to make this a regular monthly affair. We’ll see! I can’t stress enough how important it is to LEARN YOUR VAMP CHORDS. That’s what making jamming possible. Who knows? Maybe you can stop by Winchester and join us sometime. After all, Carol Lombardo came all the way from Alaska!