Posts Tagged ‘Bill Monroe’

Learning from Bill—By Ear!

Saturday, December 19th, 2009
Red Henry

Red Henry

Casey’s description of learning a tune by ear reminded me of my own experience. When I was a brand-new mandolin player, just starting out, I acquired Bill Monroe’s LP “Bluegrass Instrumentals”. Now, you might think that that was pretty far advanced for a beginner (and it was) but I knew the kind of  music I wanted to learn, and that was it.

Bill played a lot of great tunes on that album, and quite a few of them were both fast and complicated. So, how does a newbie learn something like that? Well, I had the means right at hand: Bill’s album, and a record player that slowed down to half speed, 16 2/3 rpm.

“What use was a piece of old junk like that”, you may ask, “something my grandparents threw away in 1973?” Well, in this case, the ‘old junk’ slowed Bill Monroe down to exactly half-speed—just slow enough for me to hear his notes—while staying in tune with my mandolin. (Okay, the music was down an octave—it sounded pretty low—but that was no problem.)

I started learning all the tunes I could off that album. Bill’s showpiece number “Rawhide” still comes to mind. I listened and listened, learning all three of his breaks the best I could, and played them for a while. Naturally I, as a beginner, didn’t hear and play all of Bill’s notes, but I’d made a good beginning, and anyway I was playing the SOUND. Weeks later, I went back to the record and learned the tune better. Later still, I went back and got my version even closer to his. Eventually, within the first couple of years, I knew what Bill had played and could play it myself. Since I’d learned it from the recording I had both the NOTES and the SOUND, and it was RIGHT.

The equipment available now (computer programs for low-speed playback) is more versatile in letting you listen to what you want to learn. You don’t have to listen with the music an octave down any more. But the principle is the same—as Murphy says, “Listen, listen, listen, and play, play, play.”

That’s what you do when you learn by ear—you learn what you can, get that into your brain and fingers, then go back later and find that you can learn still more. And more. Yes, it takes time and effort. But did you think that something this great—playing bluegrass music—was going to be easy?

Red

A Good Day

Monday, October 19th, 2009
Murphy Henry

Murphy Henry

I remember reading somewhere, sometime that someone asked Bill Monroe to describe what he would do on a day that he really enjoyed, a “good day.” All I can recall right now is that Bill said something like he would work on his farm all day long, then go somewhere and do a music show, and then get into his car (or bus) and drive all night. I wasn’t sure at the time what my good day would be, but I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be like Bill’s!

This evening, as I was contemplating this blog, I realized that I had, indeed, had a good day. And I was curious to see what it consisted of.

First of all, when I got up I had a good book lying in wait for me to read while I had my morning tea. The Book Thief. It was a loaner from Robyn. More about her later.

Then, Marty came by for a two-hour banjo lesson. (And I’m so glad he did because otherwise this blog wouldn’t have anything about bluegrass or banjo in it!) At IBMA this year, he’d bought his wife Cheryl an acoustic bass–the kind that looks like a big guitar–and she came along this time and we played through most of Marty’s songs and that was great fun and I got paid for doing it! I love my job!

Then I wolfed down a bite of lunch (while reading more of The Book Thief) and met Robyn for a hike on the Appalachian Trail. It’s been cold and rainy here all week, but it cleared up just in time for us to hit the trail and I was so glad to be outside. We did our regular two-hour hike (one hour in, one hour back) and pretty much talked non-stop the whole way. I am happy to report that neither of us fell down, even though the rain had made the path wet and slippery.

Then, on the way back home, we stopped at Starbucks where we warmed up with coffee (Pumpkin Spice latte for her; de-caf Americano for me) and talked some more!

Back at home, I rustled up a supper of leftovers (always nice not to have to cook!) and finished my book. The only sad thing is that now I don’t have a good book to look forward to reading tomorrow morning! Perhaps I’ll download something to my Kindle….

Right now I’m off to take a hot shower, and then I’m gonna curl up in front of the TV with a DVD about five sisters that stars Meryl Streep.

I’m not saying it was a perfect day (especially since it didn’t involve chocolate—and how did that happen?) but it was a good ‘un! Thanks for letting me share it with you.

Philosophy

Tuesday, December 30th, 2008

Red HenrySometimes you can find philosophy in playing music. And who could talk about that better than Bill Monroe himself, the master of pithy words and music too?

Here’s the story: One day at a bluegrass festival back in the 1970s, people were listening to a modern hot-shot mandolin player on stage. He played up the neck and down the neck and all over the neck, making lots and lots and lots of fantastic notes. People were impressed. So someone thought he’d rattle Bill’s chain a little and said to him: “Bill, that young guy makes lots of notes. Why can’t you make all those notes when you play? Don’t you know that many notes?”

Bill didn’t hesitate. He looked the man in the eye and said, “If I was to write you a letter, I would mean every word I wrote.”

That’s all Bill said. That was all he needed to say. He didn’t need to play lots of notes, only the ones that meant something. He meant every word, and he meant every note!

Next time you’re taking a break (or playing backup) and want to throw in a hot lick, think about it. Don’t play it if you don’t mean every note.