One of the beautiful things about lugging this humongous music collection around with me for 40 years is that every once and awhile I dig something up that not only takes me back to those first moments when some attractive new sound or song or style pinned me to the wall and forced me to re-investigate what all of this vibration of air was all about but also brings me a bit of fresh perspective about the timelessness of great music.
I remember distinctly the first time I heard bluegrass cross-picking master Tony Rice. I was working at San Diego State on the Cultural Arts Board, and our gig was to spend the University's money booking music, poetry, lectures and such onto campus for the edification and entertainment of the student body. I'll dive into that whole scene in a devoted blog at some later date but for now, let's just say we got a ton of music to whittle our way through each month to plan the semester ahead.
One LP that came across my desk was by a guy whose name I knew from my time in the trenches as a fledgling Dead Head--mandolinist David Grisman. I'd only heard his album with Old & In The Way at this point which was at the time the biggest selling bluegrass record in history thanks to the fact the the Grateful Dead's centerpiece Jerry Garcia was the resident banjoist in the band. So this album, along with the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's groundbreaking release Will the Circle Be Unbroken were about all the average rock n roll fan knew of bluegrass and traditional country music.
So when I popped on Grisman's then new release, HOT DAWG, I was floored. Not only was this my first exposure to the legendary violinist Stephane Grappelli, and Grisman Quintet bandmates Mike Marshall, Darol Anger, Todd Philips, and a guitar player who caught my ear and did not let go for a long tie tehreafter, the amazing Tony Rice.
This was not only an album of impeccable playing and arranging but it swung like crazy and set the stage for what would soon be called the New Acoustic movement melding bluegrass instrumentation, dexterity and speed, the swinging harmonies of the 30s music of the Hot Club of France, and an ear for great melodies and outrageous instrumental chops but also the open-minded and expansive repertoire that would change the face of acoustic music for years to come.
And in the middle of the mind-blowing record was the sheer stunning beauty of Tony Rice's fingerpicking. The fluidity and far-ranging and daring choices upped the ante on the great crosspickers of the previous two generations, Doc Watson, and Clarence White, both innovators in their own right. There were subtle nods to Charlie Christian, to the great jazz plectrists of the bop and post-bop eras but all within the context a a folky bluegrass root system.
As a fledgling guitarist who knew all the chords that flew by on his left hand, there was no hope of my understanding just what that miraculous right hand was up to. Like trying to watch a hummingbird's wings. Pointless. The difficulty of playing cleanly and quickly on the acoustic guitar is quite a bit more extraordinarily difficult than on the electric where you allow the volume and tone to do much of the work for you.
Like the first time I heard Jim Hall's album CONCIERTO or Bola Sete's exemplary OCEANS: SOLO GUITAR VOL. 1, I immediately knew I was hearing music that would remain a major part of my life's soundtrack from then on. All three of these records make my Desert Island selections, no question.
Funny thing is, I don't recall whether we booked the band with Tony or not though I remember going up to the Biltmore in L.A. for a booking convention and being floored by the DGQ as well as laughing my ass of to a then-funny unknown comic named Jay Leno. We did have the DGQ at SDSU in the next year or so, I believe.
So today listening to an advance of a wonderful new CD by guitarist Clay Ross, I heard his rendition of Norman Blake's "Church Street Blues" and was taken back to the recorded version by Rice. I listened it twice and on a whim headed to YouTube to see if I could get a glimpse of the hummingbird's right hand. After the third pass, I manually closed my gaping maw and moved on to the wonderful exploratory solo version of the folk classic "Shenandoah" and then onto one of Rice's favorite cover tunes, Gordon Lightfoot's "Cold On The Shoulder". Rice no longer sings so some of these videos are a tad sad for me but the smoothness of his right hand as he arpeggiates some of thes perfectly timed runs is truly a blessing to rediscover.
Enjoy and pick up any of Tony Rice's music. You can't go wrong
Buy HOT DAWG cheap here! Do not wait! Get it Now!
CHURCH STREET BLUES - Tony Rice solo guitar and vocal
DAVID GRISMAN QUARTET "E.M.D." Grisman/Rice/Mark O'Connor/Rob Wasserman
SHENANDOAH - Tony solo from the film Bluegrass Journey
BLUE RAILROAD TRAIN - Tony w/ Mark O'Connor, Jerry Douglas, Sam Bush and Ronnie Simpkins
A blistering FREEBORN MAN for you bluegrass fans out there...Tony, Bela FLeck, Jerry Douglas, Mark O'Connor, Sam Bush...
COLD ON THE SHOULDER w/ Tony, Jerry Douglas, John Hartford, Vassar Clements, Mark O'Connor, Roy Huskey, Jr.
What You'll Find Here: Music, Movies and Me
Since May 1976, I have written in journals. When I have nothing particularly resonant to say about my own inner turmoil, philosophic ramblings, sexual peccadillos or whining on about the state of the world around me...I have always fallen back on reporting the cultural time consumption that takes up in inordinate portion of my daily goings on.
In the 40+ years since my first concerts seeing Children's Symphony presentations on Sundays at the Pasadena Civic or The Hot Jazz Society's monthly Dixieland romps in an old meeting hall on the edge of the L.A. "River" across from Griffith Park, I have been sold heavily on the magic of live music. As Neil Young so aptly put it, "Live music is better bumper stickers should be issued."
Growing up a few orange groves and canyons length away from Hollywood also contributed greatly to my family's addiction to movie going. From the time I was a small there were weekly trips to the drive-in theaters that dotted the landscape, or the local Temple theater for the Saturday matinees. Once in a while we'd drive the 12 miles into Hollywood and see something in one of the magnificent old movie palaces like Grauman's Chinese, the Egyptian, The Pantages or later the Cinerama Dome. My dad loved Westerns and War movies, as if he didn't get enough shoot-'em-up as an L.A. County Sheriff in his day gig, my mom adored musicals and comedies. My brother and I loved them all.
At SDSU, I played in my first gigging band and began booking concerts on campus as part of the well-funded Cultural Arts Board, kindling for my future life in and around music.
So it's not surprising that my first jobs out of college were working in local video rental places (which were all the rage) or managing a couple of Sam Goody record stores in Mall's on the East Coast where we marveled at the new CD format and sold the first home computers and video games (yes Commodore and Pong and Atari).
So these are really just extensions of all of those journal entries talking about the great new movies I was seeing and LPs/CDs I was listening to.
Though iPODS/iPADs, apps, smart phones and downloads now make music and movies accessible in your own pocket, there is still nothing like sitting in front of a stack of speakers with a room full of people swaying to music created before your eyes. Nor is there anything that works quite so well for me to escape the real world and all of it's pressures just outside than two hours in a dark theater, absorbing the stories flickering across that wide screen as they pull you into their world.
But a really good taco runs a close third...
In the 40+ years since my first concerts seeing Children's Symphony presentations on Sundays at the Pasadena Civic or The Hot Jazz Society's monthly Dixieland romps in an old meeting hall on the edge of the L.A. "River" across from Griffith Park, I have been sold heavily on the magic of live music. As Neil Young so aptly put it, "Live music is better bumper stickers should be issued."
Growing up a few orange groves and canyons length away from Hollywood also contributed greatly to my family's addiction to movie going. From the time I was a small there were weekly trips to the drive-in theaters that dotted the landscape, or the local Temple theater for the Saturday matinees. Once in a while we'd drive the 12 miles into Hollywood and see something in one of the magnificent old movie palaces like Grauman's Chinese, the Egyptian, The Pantages or later the Cinerama Dome. My dad loved Westerns and War movies, as if he didn't get enough shoot-'em-up as an L.A. County Sheriff in his day gig, my mom adored musicals and comedies. My brother and I loved them all.
At SDSU, I played in my first gigging band and began booking concerts on campus as part of the well-funded Cultural Arts Board, kindling for my future life in and around music.
So it's not surprising that my first jobs out of college were working in local video rental places (which were all the rage) or managing a couple of Sam Goody record stores in Mall's on the East Coast where we marveled at the new CD format and sold the first home computers and video games (yes Commodore and Pong and Atari).
So these are really just extensions of all of those journal entries talking about the great new movies I was seeing and LPs/CDs I was listening to.
Though iPODS/iPADs, apps, smart phones and downloads now make music and movies accessible in your own pocket, there is still nothing like sitting in front of a stack of speakers with a room full of people swaying to music created before your eyes. Nor is there anything that works quite so well for me to escape the real world and all of it's pressures just outside than two hours in a dark theater, absorbing the stories flickering across that wide screen as they pull you into their world.
But a really good taco runs a close third...
1 comment:
Damn! What a surprise! Tony Rice is amazing, to say the least, and your selections are excellent. Is he still around, I wonder...
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