The Murphy Method Blog

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:

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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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.

Hello, Folks—Today I just thought you’d like to see a couple of video clips from a 1989 performance by Red and Murphy & Co. We were performing on stage at the Spirit of the Suwanee festival, in north Florida, along with our friends Karen Spence, Tuck Tucker and George Custer:

First, you’ll see us singing that old favorite, “East Virginia Blues”:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dyniQXqMzDM

(Band personnel: Murphy Henry, banjo; Red Henry, guitar; George Custer, fiddle; Karen Spence, bass; and Tuck Tucker, dobro.)

…and here we are performing Murphy’s original song, “How They Loved to Sing”:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JPNx3QOXWK4

—Many thanks to Butch Burns, producer of the Bottom Dollar Bluegrass TV shows in Tallahassee, for sending us these clips. Happy listening!

Last Thursday there was another picking party at the house of some friends. Now, I especially enjoy playing music with folks, so I went over to their house all ready to go. In contrast to the regular crowd, the pickers seemed sparse at first. Cousin David the banjo player would have been there, but he was playing a music job that night a couple of hours away. Linda the bass player had to go a few hours south on family business. Wayne the fiddler didn’t make it for some other reason. Various other banjo players and fiddlers and lead guitar players also did not show up. I chatted with the folks while I got my mandolin out and tuned it, but by 7:30, when it was obvious that all the pickers had arrived, it was an interesting assortment: Carol on bass; Wade, Bob, Gerald, Tim, and David, all playing guitar; and me. We had ten or fifteen  listeners too, but I’ll talk mostly about those five guitar players.

Now, some mandolin players might not like playing much if they had no other lead instruments present and FIVE guitar pickers, none of whom played a lot of lead, especially if (as in this case) I had only picked with a couple of them before. But I grew up picking at parties where there might be 5 or 6 guitar players and maybe (or maybe not) some other instruments, and so I had a good time. And the guitar pickers helped.

They said, “Pick one,” so I started out with “Down Yonder”, a tune most folks around here know. Then Gerald sang “I Wonder Where you are Tonight,” and I followed it with “Head Over Heels.” This goes back to something I wrote a few weeks back. If, in this case, you’re a mandolin player with no other lead instruments, then KEEP IT SIMPLE. This is not the time to show off your new Vernon Derrick licks from a Jimmy Martin instrumental, or that dazzling thing you just learned from Chris Thile. [Editor's note: I like how Red is trying to appeal to our younger audience.] [Side note: Do we even have a younger audience?] It’s not the time to play your favorite original tune from your new CD. This is the time to play something EVERYBODY KNOWS, and to make it easy for them to play it along with you.

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Our friend Jinx Miller sent us some old photos recently and this one made us laugh. It was a very typical pose for Casey and Murphy back in the day (circa 1980).

L-R: Tuck Tucker, Red Henry, Connie Rose, Murphy Henry, Casey Henry, George Shuffler

Murphy and I just played a gig—a music job—with our Cousin David. Now, gigs with David always involve some degree of unpredictability, or, if you like, Adventure. The folks involved were Murphy and myself, our friend Scott, and good old Cousin David.

In this case, the Adventure didn’t take long to start. It was raining, and it was time to go. We were all loaded up to drive to the gig in Cousin David’s minivan when I asked him (loudly, because his hearing’s pretty spacey), “All ready to go?” and he said, “That just reminded me. I left my hearing aid in the house!” So he went back through the rain and got his hearing aid and put it in. Then, sitting next to him in the front of the car, I asked him “Got your hearing aid?” — but I said it very softly, so he couldn’t hear me. Cousin David looked at me. I said, “Got that hearing aid in your ear?” even softer. David smiled at me. (He’s really good at covering up.)

Cousin David is not spacey. So we drove two hours away (in the rain) and had gotten in the general vicinity of the gig, and David said, “I meant to find out directions or print out a map of where to go, but I just never got around to it.” So after driving in circles (and triangles, and rectangles) for a while, he called the place for directions. Then we got there. But he is not spacey. It was an Adventure.

It turned out that in order to set up David’s sound system for the gig, we had to carry all the equipment into a big building, move it down an elevator, and set it up in a big lobby nearby. It was a long way. So we all got to work, and just did it. We hustled setting up all the microphones and cords and speakers and cables and all that stuff, and had the sound system ready a whole 11 minutes before it was time to start. Not bad; I almost had time to get my mandolin in tune! More adventure.

So far, the gig had consisted of rain, being lost, moving sound equipment, and stringing together various wires. But now came the good part. Murphy kicked things off with “Lonesome Road Blues” and Scott followed that with “Moonlight on My Cabin,” and we were off. Murphy, Scott, and I alternated in playing and singing various bluegrass favorites for the folks. It was an older audience, so we played plenty of songs and tunes they’d recognize. They liked us. I saw people singing along with Murphy’s “I Saw the Light” and my “Mountain Dew” and Scott’s “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Cousin David played bass and contributed a harmony vocal here and there. We played three sets of good music, and it was fun.

Then, it was back to messing with the sound system: coiling up the cords, packing the equipment up, and moving it back upstairs and out of the building and into David’s car. We drove back to his house just in time for Scott to get in his truck and leave to play another show that night with his own band.

So, it was all an Adventure. There was lots of rain. There was some getting lost. There was plenty of hauling sound equipment around. But you know what? We all had a good time, and the people liked us. And Cousin David’s not a bit spacey.

Last Wednesday night I went over to pick at our friends David and Linda’s house. They’ve started hosting some regular picking on Thursday nights, something we haven’t had around this area before. The picking was good, and it brought some good points to mind:

1. When you’re playing music with some folks whose music you don’t know very well (and vice versa), KEEP IT SIMPLE. I mean, PICK OUT THINGS TO PLAY THAT EVERYBODY KNOWS. Now, along with several other folks, Cousin David was there last night. He and I know each other’s music pretty well, and when the two of us are picking, it’s hard for either one of us to get thrown off the track, even if one of us is playing (literally) some musical joke or other. Each of us can figure out and keep up with the other, no matter what we throw into the music on impulse. But this evening we were with several other folks we didn’t know as well, so I needed to keep it simple. When it was time to start, and Linda looked at me and said, “Pick one!”, I selected “Down Yonder” to play. Most folks will know that tune, and everyone there did. And we went from there to “Head Over Heels” and “Faded Love” and lots of three-chord bluegrass songs that everybody knew. And it was fun.

2. DON’T try to be the star of the show. You can almost tell the best musician in most jam sessions– he or she will be the most relaxed and laid-back person there, just waiting for their turn to play. When I see someone who’s trying to dominate a jam session, I generally know two things: (a) that person may not be as great a performer as they think they are, and (b) I want to stay away from there. The idea of a jam session is for everybody to sound good and have fun, and the pickers should all help with that. So this evening, nobody tried to be a star. We took turns selecting songs and tunes to play, and passed the breaks around freely— clockwise, in this case.

(I think that someone could write a phychological paper on “clockwise” versus “counter-clockwise” break-passing in picking sessions!)

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There was a recent thread on Banjo Hangout that I think deserves some extra discussion. The BHO folks were talking about how good and important it is for musicians, when they are learning music, to play music with other people. And they’re exactly right.

Murphy says over and over on our tapes, “Find someone to pick with!” — it doesn’t have to be someone who plays exactly your own kind of music. Maybe they play gospel. Maybe they play old-time country. Maybe they’re folkies. But there’s not much that will help your music more than FINDING SOME PEOPLE TO PICK WITH.

In the case of Murphy’s local students, they have a group called “Murphy’s Misfits,” and they’ve gotten together for several years to jam and perform at nursing homes places like that. They’ve all benefited a lot in being able to learn their music really well, play solidly, keep time, conquer their fear of being in a group, play standing up, and get used to performing in front of people.

I learned to play at amazing weekend-long picking parties when I was in college (studying was not an option). So to me, there was never a difference between playing music by myself and picking with others. I had this opportunity not because of anything I did, or any special musical ability (the parties started when I’d only been playing two weeks), but instead it was just good luck in being introduced to those people early on, and it was a terrific musical education. And 40 years later, some of those people are still my best friends.

Here’s a snapshot taken at one of those parties a long time ago. You can see what sedate, sober young guys we were (Chuck Lamb, Wyndell Merritt, John Hedgecoth, Mike Johnson, and Red):

A few years later, when I was moving around the country in the Air Force, I found places where it was difficult to unearth the local pickers. But after living several months in a new place and asking around, I usually started running across the bluegrass and old-time-country pickers who lived there. And it was worth it. There’s no way to have as much fun learning your music as FINDING SOME PEOPLE TO PICK WITH!

Folks, as you can tell from reading our blog for the last week or two, Murphy and I went over to Nashville last week for the big International Bluegrass convention. We had a great time at the Trade Show and FanFest (more about that later!), but I’ve been thinking about the good trip home I had, and thought I’d talk about that.

Murphy and I were in Nashville on different schedules. I was in Nashville for the first part of the week, and drove home to Winchester on Friday afternoon and evening. Now, I usually don’t drive a lot in the dark (especially for much of a 10-hour trip), but in this case it was no problem. I had a lot of CDs in the car, and listened to a bunch of them. Here’s a selection:

1. Nancy Pate, “Georgia in the Middle of June” — Murphy’s sister Nancy recorded this CD a few years ago with Murphy playing mandolin, Casey playing bass and banjo and our brother-in-law Mike Johnson playing fiddle. The disc features mostly Nancy’s original music, with a few numbers by Louisa Branscomb, Nancy’s bandmate at the time. The music is what you might call “gentle bluegrass,” but with a great deal of originality and feeling. Possibly the most evocative numbers are Nancy’s “Pray for Rain” and “A Slower Road,” along with Louisa’s “For Every Day that You Die Young.” Nancy also reprised her old composition “Two of a Kind,” as well as giving her own take on Murphy’s “M&M Blues” (with Casey playing am excellent Scruggs-style break). Very enjoyable listening.

2. Woods and Bridges, “On the Right Track” — Our old Florida friends Bill Baker and John and Joanne Rose and their band released this CD about a year ago. It covers a good selection of standard bluegrass, along with quite a bit of bluegrass gospel. I especially like Bill’s mandolin work on “Working on a Building” and “The Old Crossroad,” because he played bass with us for three years in the 1980s and I didn’t even know he played mandolin at all! John Rose plays solid guitar and knows more Carter Stanley songs than anyone I know— and is the subject of a story we tell on stage, about how he became a bluegrass fanatic! This CD is pleasant and entertaining.

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