The Murphy Method Blog

Here are some shots from the IBMA convention, day 1.

My day started by setting up the Murphy Mehtod booth at the trade show. Here is my brother Chris and grandmother Renee, holding the fort:

And here is the blog, at the booth:

My night started by watching the wonderful keynote address, given by Roger Brown, president of Berklee College of Music in Boston. (More on that in a later post.) Directly thereafter one of my favorite bands, the Dixie Bee-Liners showcased:

L-R: Sam Morrow, Buddy Woodward, Rachel Johnson, Brandi Hart, Jeremy Darrow, Jonathan Manness.

More later…

If you’ve been reading this blog for the last couple of days, you’ll be aware that I spent last weekend playing with the Dixie Bin-Liners, I mean Bee-Liners. I returned home today and, upon reflecting on the trip as a whole I believe it is one of the best road trips I’ve ever been on. The Bee-Liners are all funny, intelligent people, and they were a hoot to travel with. The six of us piled into their Chevy van, burning up the road between Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Virginia. Being the guest banjo player, I didn’t have to drive (an unusual occurrence, to be sure), so I got a lot of Jane Eyre read.

Our first gig, in Kent, Ohio, was opening for Blue Highway. The way it worked out, we didn’t get a chance to practice much of their material. We did run over three or four songs about ten minutes before the show started, but that was it as far as rehearsal for the whole weekend. I was glad that I’d done my homework and felt (almost) comfortable walking on stage with little group rehearsal.

We all got too-little sleep that night, arising at 5 am to drive to Carlisle, PA, to make a 1:00 pm set. We shared the bill at the Bluegrass on the Grass festival with some of my favorite people: the Steep Canyon Rangers, and the Dismembered Tennesseans, among others. The weather was perfect—warm and sunny—and we had some great Pad Thai for lunch. You can’t ask for better than that.

Casey Henry, Buddy Woodward, Rachel Johnson, Brandi Hart, Jonathan Manness, Jeremy Darrow.

The following two days found us in Winchester, VA (I believe Murphy filled you in on that gig) and Maumee, Ohio, for the Glass City Opry.

In Maumee the promoter housed the band in a Holiday Inn that was attached to a small water park with huge tubular water slides. I was bummed that I had to leave to drive home and didn’t get to partake of the aquatic amusements. Their regular banjo picker, Sam Morrow, met us in Maumee to play the next day with them in Chicago. I took his car and headed south. The only bad thing about filling in for Sam is that I didn’t get to hear Sam play, because I do love his Stanley-style pickin’. But I know I’ll get to hear a lot more from them in the future. And Sam, don’t even worry about those dents in your car…they’re so small you won’t even notice!

I’m sorry to have to put off talking about improvising again, but it can’t be helped. I’m just back from spending a delightful afternoon watching daughter Casey play banjo with the Dixie Bee-Liners. (She was filling in for their regular banjo player, Sam Morrow, who will be back in the saddle again directly.) Casey played with Tone, Taste, and Timing— the Big Three of banjo playing—and did her parents proud. She’s a keeper, fer sure.

The band was holding forth at Brill’s Barber Shop in downtown Winchester, Virginia, (home of Patsy Cline, Lynn Morris, and the Murphy Method). A barber shop may seem like a strange place for a gig, but this particular tonsorial parlor is also a music store where I’ve been teaching banjo for the past 22 years. In addition, it houses a coffeehouse-type listening area in its nether regions, that is to say, below street level. We occasionally host a musical event in the basement of the shop, but have yet to come up with a catchy name for the venue. This is primarily due to the fact that everybody in town knows where Brill’s Barber Shop is, but nobody would know where a place with a funky new name was.

The Dixie Bee-Liners were playing what is informally called a “gas gig.” That is to say, the band had a free day in its touring schedule and was willing to play for whatever the venue could provide. Luckily, we were able to muster a small crowd on a Sunday afternoon, and the band picked up a few bucks, sold some CDs, and made some new fans.

The Bee-Liners are anchored by genial emcee Buddy Woodward on mandolin and the gorgeous voice of Brandi Hart on guitar. A few years ago Buddy was tapped for the role of guitarist George Shuffler in a play about the Stanley Brothers, which toured for several seasons. As it happened, Red and I saw the performance at Wolf Trap, Virginia, and enjoyed it immensely. It was a pleasure to meet Buddy in person.

The rest of the talented Bee-Liners, who hail from Bristol, Virginia, include Jonathan Manness on guitar, Jeremy Darrow on bass, and Rachel Johnson on fiddle. Naturally, I was thrilled to see three women in one band, two of them playing lead instruments. I spent some time musing happily on how mixed-gender bands seem to becoming more popular.

I would write more but half of the band is spending the night at our house, and I think I’ve stayed at the computer just long enough so that I didn’t have to help put clean sheets on any of the beds! And I want to spend a little time visiting with Casey, although she was the one who reminded me it was my night to blog! If the Dixie Bee-Liners make it to your neck of the woods, be sure to go out and see them. Tell them Casey’s mom sent you.

I write to you tonight from beautiful Abingdon, VA, where I am staying with Buddy Woodward and Brandi Hart in preparation for leaving in the morning to do a four-gig stint with their band the Dixie Bee-Liners. Buddy, as it happens, is a wonderful cook, in addition to being a great musician, and he fixed his famous coffee-smoked chicken, grilled corn on the cob, grilled onions, and iced tea, which we enjoyed in their convivial back yard before gathering around the fire pit to watch the sun set.

My real subject for today is the group of women I’ve been jamming with for the last couple of months. A bunch of friends of mine, who are all married to professional musicians, are in various stages of learning to play their instruments. Earlier this year we all walked in a half marathon together, and we wanted to find a way to keep getting together after our marathon was accomplished. I don’t know who it was who suggested that we get together to play music, but they nominated me to be their leader. I agreed on the condition that I could play the fiddle.

We assembled for the first time on a Sunday afternoon and had such a good time we decided to continue to meet every week. Musically, to the outsider at least, what we play wouldn’t sound like much. Accordingly I decided to call our little group “At Least We’re Hot,” as in, we pretty much suck, but at least we’re hot.

The women of At Least We’re Hot, and some friends. I’m in the purple dress in the middle. Photo by Ned Luberecki.

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