tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87602241913732208892024-02-18T19:23:36.047-08:00Sign33A space to display my autographed LPs and share anecdotes related to them. Comments are always welcome.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-88462037404892086082012-01-06T08:47:00.001-08:002012-01-06T21:05:48.491-08:00Johnny Winter<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEWDRwr7FxoOgeyjSvN76xICwkTTM7oBxZjvgDonlB7RCn1E5cyme0GbJ40VFpe6ONRtlDABgGzU3WC5Kn35W-ZFLvdOns7Pf5LXS2xOYb_sKPhDlPWLmYCb375JxVqgkYPz2NHsvDy6U8/s1600/JW1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 394px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEWDRwr7FxoOgeyjSvN76xICwkTTM7oBxZjvgDonlB7RCn1E5cyme0GbJ40VFpe6ONRtlDABgGzU3WC5Kn35W-ZFLvdOns7Pf5LXS2xOYb_sKPhDlPWLmYCb375JxVqgkYPz2NHsvDy6U8/s400/JW1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694563373722326210" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMEDpm7VyYGUjQtUBXLNGz9zufMtvhlVQyKLuF1gBUemO8h4GBLASBz0DCkdVQAlBDVLy4qJQqrg3YbuGeELLZpztyStAImRzepBh7i4FmC1AhHe3xt5uY7Cch2azFYCsVIHogHdgnDdZV/s1600/JW2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 399px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMEDpm7VyYGUjQtUBXLNGz9zufMtvhlVQyKLuF1gBUemO8h4GBLASBz0DCkdVQAlBDVLy4qJQqrg3YbuGeELLZpztyStAImRzepBh7i4FmC1AhHe3xt5uY7Cch2azFYCsVIHogHdgnDdZV/s400/JW2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694561820008762210" /></a><br />I hadn’t seen Johnny Winter in almost twenty years before I caught his act last Tuesday at BB King’s in New York City. As a teenager, I saw him on several occasions: twice at the Warner Theatre in DC, once at the legendary and sadly-demolished Bayou in DC, another time at the Birchmere in Alexandria, Virginia, and another at Centre Stage in Atlanta, Georgia. Johnny’s self-titled Columbia LP made a huge impression on me as a young teen and Johnny has essentially remained my favorite living, touring electric blues guitarist from then until this day, though B.B. King probably shares this distinction. Johnny’s picking may not be as consistently brilliant and dexterous as it once was, but there’s a glorious abrasiveness to both his singing and playing that I’ve always loved. It’s also fascinating to watch his right-hand thumbpick-and-fingers technique used on all those fast runs and I wonder how many aspiring electric blues guitarists even attempt this intimidating method these days. <br /><br />Having heard about Johnny’s recent health problems and occasional erratic performances, I wasn’t sure what to expect when the band hit the stage and he was led out to his chair. One thing I noticed right off the bat: he was still as frightfully loud and rockin’ as he was twenty years ago, despite his frailer condition and seemingly poorer eyesight. It took him around 20 minutes to loosen up his fingers and get his timing right, but once that happened, he sounded fine, particularly while playing slide on his trademark Gibson Firebird--a better sounding guitar than the Erlewine Laser, in my opinion. I had read somewhere that Johnny plays mostly blues these days, but half of the setlist was straight-up rock and roll. Who spread this rumor about Johnny sticking to blues--someone who doesn’t recognize Chuck Berry, Larry Williams, The Rolling Stones, and Dylan?<br /><br />An early highlight for me was hearing “Good Morning Little School Girl” played in the familiar arrangement found on the self-titled Columbia record, but it was Johnny’s slide playing toward the end of the show that really gave me my money’s worth. Sure, some of his breaks were better executed than others, but he absolutely nailed the closer "Highway 61 Revisited," having stood up, with some difficulty, to give it his all. The moments when he was all-out wailing on the slide guitar were easily the highlights of the performance and I’m sure I would have said the same thing reflecting on the shows I saw as a teenager.<br /><br />Immediately after the show ended, I lined up by the stage door and after about five minutes was invited into Johnny’s dressing room along with maybe seven other people. Johnny was sitting behind a small table without a pen and looking rather tense. I handed him the two LPs you see pictured above, along with the Sharpie I fortunately brought along. Very slowly and somewhat unsteadily, he signed both records, choosing a particularly odd signature placement on <span style="font-style:italic;">Saints and Sinners</span>--right across his face! I don't think he could see the records that well and he basically just aimed for a central lightly-colored area on each of the covers. <br /><br />During my interaction with Johnny, there really wasn’t any opportunity to have any kind of meaningful exchange. He understandably wasn’t very relaxed and the scene in the dressing room was very cramped with all of the band members sharing the space and with a few other fans lined up behind me, including one exuberant fan telling everyone in earshot that he saw Johnny perform with Muddy Waters in 1981 when he was sixteen. I basically just thanked Johnny for signing my records and told him he could keep my Sharpie so he could continue to use it. I also mentioned that I’d been catching his shows for over twenty years and that I was glad he was still touring.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-53567355362805719152011-12-12T14:25:00.001-08:002012-01-06T14:20:41.605-08:00Mike Auldridge / The Seldom Scene<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU6xRtJqBz_ViIbkfUGq9N0AsmruThaCCf17CmaATxf8GSoKG75fOIBLJgMiaWMJ0KU8CZluUoipqreEPzUobwdNbGv20lxyS4bDhSq8K0lCl7FG27XBS048x7B7ohKND2Lm66EAtoHFQD/s1600/Auldridge_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 399px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU6xRtJqBz_ViIbkfUGq9N0AsmruThaCCf17CmaATxf8GSoKG75fOIBLJgMiaWMJ0KU8CZluUoipqreEPzUobwdNbGv20lxyS4bDhSq8K0lCl7FG27XBS048x7B7ohKND2Lm66EAtoHFQD/s400/Auldridge_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685372314721226594" /></a><br />Every year around this time I remember how much I miss seeing the Seldom Scene at the Birchmere, back when Mike Auldridge and the late John Duffey were in the band and back when the Birchmere was in a smaller building a few doors down from its current location. Maybe it’s because Duffey passed away in the month of December or maybe it’s because the Seldom Scene’s anniversary falls in November each year (the band celebrated its 40th last month) or maybe it’s all those New Year’s Eve shows the band used to play at the Birchmere. Whatever the case, it seemed appropriate that I post this Mike Auldridge record that he signed for me at the Birchmere in the late 80s when the band was between sets of one of their regular Thursday night appearances. For anyone who doesn't know: Mike was the Dobro player in the Seldom Scene from the band's inception in 1971 until 1995 when he left to form a new band called Chesapeake.<br /><br />After the first set, Mike joined a few friends at a nearby table and I remember feeling a little nervous when I approached him—after all, I was a 17 year old kid out on a school night, likely interrupting the conversation of old friends. Mike was very friendly and happy to oblige, scribbling his giant sloppy signature down the right side of my LP. In the late 80s and early 90s, I probably saw about twenty Thursday night Seldom Scene shows and Mike was the only person I ever approached, though I did have a chance encounter with John Duffey in front of the Arlington County Public Library. <br /><br />At that time in my life and throughout my college years, the Birchmere was my favorite place to go and I was sad to see it move to the larger building. Though I have heard some great music in the current venue, I miss the intimacy and charm of the old place. There was the man with the long white beard who guarded the door, took your ten-dollar cover, and used his foreboding stare to discourage talking during the performances. There was the used record store downstairs, the pull-knob cigarette machine, the beautiful chandelier to the right of the stage, the worn out swinging doors of the men’s restroom that inevitably slammed into you as you entered. The place was so quiet and respectful during the Seldom Scene's performances that you could hear water spraying dishes in the kitchen during the quieter moments of a song. <br /><br />On one particularly memorable evening Doc Watson was an unbilled mystery surprise guest (Can you imagine them doing that now?) and Mike shared the stage with him for several songs including “Treasures Untold,” which they had recently recorded together. I remember this well, as it’s the only time I’ve heard Doc play live with Dobro accompaniment. On other nights, Tony Rice would pop up on stage during the Scene’s set and sing “Old Train” or play a jawdroppingly fast “John Hardy.” These occasions were the only times I‘ve heard Tony sing in live performance, as dysphonia silenced his voice shortly thereafter. <br /><br />Not surprisingly, the Seldom Scene member who made the biggest impression on me was mandolin player and high tenor vocalist John Duffey. I remember the hair sticking up on the back of my neck the first time I heard him sing “Bringing Mary Home.” I remember doubling over in laughter as he donned star-shaped sunglasses during a spirited rendition of “Lay Down Sally.” But mostly, I remember silently and attentively watching him on stage; in particular, I loved to watch him take mandolin breaks. Often, he would stare at his fingers in astonishment as if he couldn’t believe how fast they were moving. Then, as soon as he finished, he would fling his mandolin around his back and look out at the crowd as if to say “how’d he do all that?” <br /><br />Mike always impressed me too, because, more than anyone in the band, he just exuded music. Duffey could sound a little unrehearsed and slightly out of tune, but he had so much soul and charisma that it didn't matter. In contrast, Mike seemed more refined and smooth. His playing was as immaculate as his personal appearance—as if he had been practicing six hours a day for the entire week leading up to the gig, which I'm sure was the case. He also seemed to really enjoy himself on stage and his ever-present smile was infectious and uplifting. During each Thursday night appearance, Mike was featured on instrumentals such as "Pickaway," "Panhandle Country," and his wonderful arrangement of Benny Goodman's "Stompin' at the Savoy." I remember requesting that the band play another instrumental "Appalachian Rain," mainly so I could hear Auldridge's Dobro break and on one such occasion, this number, played at my request, got the biggest applause of any song played that evening.<br /><br />It’s for all these reasons that this signed Mike Auldridge record has sentimental value, even if it isn’t his most representative album or even one of the many solo Auldridge records that feature other original members of the Seldom Scene.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-75006341952743584542011-12-06T06:40:00.000-08:002011-12-06T06:52:12.309-08:00Loretta Lynn<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifakYyFM7ltu-X1uj7EE5LHD73CDq__4gO2vd5KMf28AgMqhIX1uEnoTIhN2MKynS5Pzk7FBLPwQoB_Wl65Vcul71l795_ryXhz5OldcJw5Y1Eh8yhJGFOVw9p9uiaT-1r2NCqSMlno6vg/s1600/Loretta_Lynn.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifakYyFM7ltu-X1uj7EE5LHD73CDq__4gO2vd5KMf28AgMqhIX1uEnoTIhN2MKynS5Pzk7FBLPwQoB_Wl65Vcul71l795_ryXhz5OldcJw5Y1Eh8yhJGFOVw9p9uiaT-1r2NCqSMlno6vg/s400/Loretta_Lynn.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683026252040096066" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Xi0iU3ZEEbFN4IbdGOKZtnwF6g4b_QC3sgE9qyJyhbrryxn86Cyawh4V8EAvVBFPo_9UCEphiN8VVW-EDnsIj7WJbNcCIyyDCmC1_qQY3Hpqj2PgWIL8NZ_ksgdYvq99ZIiFVbvB0h_G/s1600/2717040933_c31124194c_z.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Xi0iU3ZEEbFN4IbdGOKZtnwF6g4b_QC3sgE9qyJyhbrryxn86Cyawh4V8EAvVBFPo_9UCEphiN8VVW-EDnsIj7WJbNcCIyyDCmC1_qQY3Hpqj2PgWIL8NZ_ksgdYvq99ZIiFVbvB0h_G/s400/2717040933_c31124194c_z.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683026085006457954" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcHjjNDeG5vahh5t6XR-pTwHSc6pc16jq8an1ADhQV27P46vLXmMtEf-RVE6hnOV-zmfRB1Uv7FlInz6hf7MVxUAxKwH5GWbjaOpw34W0XZx903D1Kct5wO7YXmQ2IJ9qVYgfVGvhXoMSQ/s1600/Virginia+Trip+092.1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcHjjNDeG5vahh5t6XR-pTwHSc6pc16jq8an1ADhQV27P46vLXmMtEf-RVE6hnOV-zmfRB1Uv7FlInz6hf7MVxUAxKwH5GWbjaOpw34W0XZx903D1Kct5wO7YXmQ2IJ9qVYgfVGvhXoMSQ/s400/Virginia+Trip+092.1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683026003528695522" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhODVYF-gGn6-xoqFDpXMhAYJs3vpaUavATONXVADJmFt9OJw-gF3xoSELUtdD1FYwmnvEFMgbDyYG1M5N0Mh8I29sfesfIKpgoxfj-lV8MquOLkW56u6GiB2FTh-0VY1yxneoZ6t3HnsB-/s1600/2717853460_391dd8fd5a_z.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhODVYF-gGn6-xoqFDpXMhAYJs3vpaUavATONXVADJmFt9OJw-gF3xoSELUtdD1FYwmnvEFMgbDyYG1M5N0Mh8I29sfesfIKpgoxfj-lV8MquOLkW56u6GiB2FTh-0VY1yxneoZ6t3HnsB-/s400/2717853460_391dd8fd5a_z.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683025797215753810" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnVLdaLmfeBsGZyoHC7NFonzYUI55hRnaILWgGdLNjbzyvgH9i0r5A7TN4Wq9DQUDA-4MBB9ngeUxv4SRniO8JBB6QF-jQSvfTkoUdS3BEXI8CU430r4XZ-Yn_XyE4MUoBWA47xYgkQy2L/s1600/Virginia+Trip+132.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnVLdaLmfeBsGZyoHC7NFonzYUI55hRnaILWgGdLNjbzyvgH9i0r5A7TN4Wq9DQUDA-4MBB9ngeUxv4SRniO8JBB6QF-jQSvfTkoUdS3BEXI8CU430r4XZ-Yn_XyE4MUoBWA47xYgkQy2L/s400/Virginia+Trip+132.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683025662511630450" /></a><br /><br />During that same summer trip to Southwestern Virginia (see the <a href="http://sign33.blogspot.com/2010/12/ralph-stanley.html">Ralph Stanley</a> entry), John and I journeyed into Eastern Kentucky to see the birthplace of Loretta Lynn. Loretta’s brother Herman gives $5 tours of Loretta’s childhood home, though he was not available on the date we arrived and we had to settle for a few pictures taken from the road. A week later, we saw Ms. Lynn perform at the Warren County Fairgrounds in Front Royal, Virginia. I had brought my <span style="font-style:italic;">Fist City</span> LP cover with me, though she didn’t sign any autographs after the show--I don’t think she was feeling that well. <br /><br />Still wanting to get an LP signed and not knowing whether I would get it back or not, I decided to mail Loretta the cover to an album I could stand losing--I didn’t want to risk mailing my pristine <span style="font-style:italic;">Fist City</span> cover, my favorite album of hers. The cover came back signed, though, as you can see from the picture, the marker was very dry. Ultimately, I’m still not satisfied with this autograph and may try again.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-60833073539559138582011-11-21T06:04:00.001-08:002011-11-21T06:28:10.825-08:00Guy Davis<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJT9FT4c5Dxd3bHZwj7W7aIFOxOYhyphenhyphenwC_0G4Boo4S5DiB1xmDvdafrx3MYvsmqDbICxs0Vtusg8lHV-1sh7jZ39hKLc82G2u-SPh50WmcfonNXxEOX74_NYY7zQWqKjPFwBHJb1ePKylK/s1600/Guy_Davis.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 399px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJT9FT4c5Dxd3bHZwj7W7aIFOxOYhyphenhyphenwC_0G4Boo4S5DiB1xmDvdafrx3MYvsmqDbICxs0Vtusg8lHV-1sh7jZ39hKLc82G2u-SPh50WmcfonNXxEOX74_NYY7zQWqKjPFwBHJb1ePKylK/s400/Guy_Davis.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677450423272433762" /></a><br /><br />In the summer of 2008, I saw Guy Davis perform as an accompanist for Pete Seeger and Pete’s grandson Tao Rodriguez-Seeger at the historic Avalon Theatre in Easton, Maryland. After the show, I handed Guy this copy of his debut release <span style="font-style:italic;">Dreams About Life</span> and he was pretty surprised to see it. Before he signed the album, he showed it to his teenage son Martial who had never even seen it before. <br /><br />Guy made this modest, likable recording for Folkways in 1978 and I’m not sure that he recorded anything else until the 1990s. There aren’t very many albums with double-neck guitars on the cover, but if you want to see more, check out this <a href="http://www.wirz.de/music/doubfrm.htm">link</a>.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-24396025881434335232011-11-07T06:01:00.000-08:002011-11-07T06:18:43.195-08:00J.D. Crowe & Tony Rice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRPg1NzOtk0Pyx9hSmV681ouBFyjR5_8OjcbPRBAgeATG54b9vRjQzBRPuc0EdXEbVuMbixWjDC1RLhQHQAb8SOqw6uHbLi7F2lQwqWU1MneXMokM7okSxHoojGeRFl_yaOPkLzPmUR5rO/s1600/JD_Crowe.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 398px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRPg1NzOtk0Pyx9hSmV681ouBFyjR5_8OjcbPRBAgeATG54b9vRjQzBRPuc0EdXEbVuMbixWjDC1RLhQHQAb8SOqw6uHbLi7F2lQwqWU1MneXMokM7okSxHoojGeRFl_yaOPkLzPmUR5rO/s400/JD_Crowe.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672257624978029074" /></a><br /><br />J.D. Crowe and Tony Rice signed this great bluegrass record for me backstage at the Birchmere in 2008. This cover is the second one made for this album and it is the one that most people are familiar with. The first cover has a hilarious photograph of the band with J.D. slyly sticking up his middle finger. When I pulled this record out for J.D and Tony to sign, they both recalled the original cover and had a good laugh over it.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-9137782573067349162011-03-16T18:33:00.000-07:002011-03-17T07:13:59.361-07:00Mary McCaslin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZuQ3cQeUiDeUZQwLApi88V5jLUSjfG_HNgHiJ7TBa5TpjdAfdYmWv5-jMSTLh77cBIyA3s6DBxuUq72jez_Q-DrcsQfRNojAEY_PlSabCNo4wCqpx3OmgC_H4RceRUY4r3eDnlPFF_X8V/s1600/Mary.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 398px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZuQ3cQeUiDeUZQwLApi88V5jLUSjfG_HNgHiJ7TBa5TpjdAfdYmWv5-jMSTLh77cBIyA3s6DBxuUq72jez_Q-DrcsQfRNojAEY_PlSabCNo4wCqpx3OmgC_H4RceRUY4r3eDnlPFF_X8V/s400/Mary.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584856340679201442" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJRqQIrSlB-JrDIInfUvRo3FaZ0vkxtC-8a9JUtGLkEU_alSXeWg6q-VWkRWbCqqJvA8lRmp9yMj7RMXUen8ERWYBRVLZAuOIPjlRBDz83lZxby22qW69fEfjF3ay7Y-sfIUdamo2oeeZW/s1600/Mary_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 362px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJRqQIrSlB-JrDIInfUvRo3FaZ0vkxtC-8a9JUtGLkEU_alSXeWg6q-VWkRWbCqqJvA8lRmp9yMj7RMXUen8ERWYBRVLZAuOIPjlRBDz83lZxby22qW69fEfjF3ay7Y-sfIUdamo2oeeZW/s400/Mary_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584856268514818562" /></a><br /><br />I had the rare opportunity to catch a modest but enjoyable East Coast performance by California-based singer-songwriter Mary McCaslin in Herndon, Virginia. The Folk Club of Reston-Herndon sponsored this event as part of a series of small concerts they hold each year in the side room of a neighborhood Mexican restaurant called Tortilla Factory, located in a run-down, half-vacant, 60s-era strip mall in downtown Herndon. The long narrow room was filled to capacity with about 60 people, mostly members of the folk club.<br /><br />The show began with three short but refreshingly offbeat open mike performances that included an a capella French tune sung by a six year old girl. Mary hit the "stage" around 7:30 and her first set was over shortly after 8 PM. After a 15 minute intermission, she returned for a second set of roughly the same length. While the show was noticeably short, I felt that I easily got my money's worth--after all, the $10 ticket cost less than the price of a drink in most New York clubs. I also appreciated the down home atmosphere and overall intimacy of the venue.<br /><br />Mary's setlist was thematically and structurally similar to a typical Mary McCaslin album. It featured a few of her own songs mixed with those of other singer-songwriters such as her late husband and co-performer Jim Ringer. She also sang a couple of Western-themed 1940s standards such as "Don't Fence Me In" and "Ghost Riders In The Sky." Mary opened the show with a tribute to "yuppie-free" Oildale, California, the town just north of Bakersfield that was the birthplace of Merle Haggard. This was one of several songs about California, which evidently continues to be her favorite subject. <br /><br />I was struck by the clarity and precision of Mary's rhythm guitar accompaniment that projected from her barely-amplified Larrivee acoustic guitar. I also found that her engaging, matter-of-fact singing style sounds much the same as it does on her classic records. As expected, Mary played in several different open major and minor tunings, switching between them in a matter of seconds. Her second set featured a cover of the Beatles' "Blackbird," which she sang to her own clawhammer banjo accompaniment, demonstrating her considerable skill at rearranging/re-imagining classic pop songs. If you think "Blackbird" is a strange choice for a banjo tune, you should hear her version of "Pinball Wizard" from her <span style="font-style:italic;">Old Friends</span> LP.<br /><br />After the performance was over, Mary sat at a small table signing CDs. As she signed my records, I told her that I had been to Oildale and had caught one of Red Simpson's Monday night performances at Trout's Nightclub. She reacted with enthusiasm to the name Red Simpson, reciting the opening line to Red's biggest hit "Hello, I'm a Truck." (Appropriately enough, that line is "Hello, I'm a truck.") We talked a bit about Trout's and Buck Owens' Crystal Palace and discovered, not surprisingly, that we both prefer Trout's, which is really the last remaining true honktonk in the Bakersfield area. There wasn't much room to stand and talk, so I thanked her for signing my records and went on my way.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-82555633473874115112011-03-06T13:42:00.001-08:002011-03-07T04:00:23.249-08:00Leo Kottke<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0iWxRClRVVNHgP6SuEIoqz5afSvAJzsQfOLV_VgJYS2opzeRVeewDVqyBbp_4o0i3jpEo9bgTwfiZEu9onxgMGbDqN2iNi5W-laZELE3j_esCskyD2xa6yf5paJP3aOhsdaxN8lkA__K/s1600/kottke_1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 394px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0iWxRClRVVNHgP6SuEIoqz5afSvAJzsQfOLV_VgJYS2opzeRVeewDVqyBbp_4o0i3jpEo9bgTwfiZEu9onxgMGbDqN2iNi5W-laZELE3j_esCskyD2xa6yf5paJP3aOhsdaxN8lkA__K/s400/kottke_1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581085758402525330" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUyWTOiR-iTNk1BQ2YpIE3xmPqhguOcjRfRV5fD2Y49EnV31j9gnIGH3Mg0M6Bb32OTYbbZiDNofFfdde7CDCbelMKIwZz-wjBmMVxpaXVXFzjhuAwOI964wlhS1zsdpvFcy1VdUquOuoD/s1600/Kottke_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 393px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUyWTOiR-iTNk1BQ2YpIE3xmPqhguOcjRfRV5fD2Y49EnV31j9gnIGH3Mg0M6Bb32OTYbbZiDNofFfdde7CDCbelMKIwZz-wjBmMVxpaXVXFzjhuAwOI964wlhS1zsdpvFcy1VdUquOuoD/s400/Kottke_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581085690134351090" /></a><br />Leo Kottke signed these records for me a couple nights ago at the City Winery in New York City. My encounter with Leo went as smoothly as possible, owing largely to the fact that I emailed the club a few hours before the show, mentioning that I would be attending and that I was hoping to get a record signed. (I kept "record" singular so the staff wouldn't think I had 15 of them--it's best to keep things simple.) The manager responded to my email by saying that I should ask for him when I got to the club and that he would see what he could do. When I arrived, I found the manager and handed him my records. He went off to find Leo, but came back with my records a short while later saying that Leo was planning on coming out after the show and that I could just have him sign them then. <br /><br />After an amazing performance, I lingered around the club waiting for Leo to come out. I settled my tab so that I would have easier mobility and hung around the bar area for a bit. After about twenty minutes, Leo came out with his coat on and his guitar in hand and proceeded to walk across the club to the front door. No one really seemed to notice him except for one guy who said hello as he was heading out. It was then that I took the opportunity to ask him if he would sign my record (again, keeping "record" singular), to which he responded "Oh yeah, there was a record to sign." At that point, I was really glad I had contacted the club beforehand, as Leo was not surprised or annoyed by my question. Then, when I made a joke that made him smile, I knew everything would go well. Our conversation went something like this:<br /><br />- Hi Leo, I realize you’re heading out, but would you mind signing my record?<br />- Oh yeah, there was a record to sign (Leo sets his guitar down)<br />- I have a pen right here, though you probably won't want to sign anything once you see which record I brought<br />- (Leo smiles) Must be <span style="font-style:italic;">Circle 'Round the Sun</span> (It’s well known that Leo hates this record, though it’s somewhat of a fan favorite.)<br /><br />I then set my two records on a table that was close by and handed him my sharpie. As he was signing them, we then had this exchange:<br /><br />- I have a silly request. I prefer that you do not date your autograph.<br />- You don’t want a date? How come?<br />- I just think a "twenty-eleven" would look out of place on a nineteen-seventy record.<br />- Really? I’m the exact opposite.<br /><br />We talked a bit more. I told him that I had seen him a few times and that this evening’s performance was the best show of his I’d seen, which was a true statement. I then asked him where he was headed and he said "Albany." I wished him a safe journey and that was the end of our encounter.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-41450561330833816722010-12-23T07:29:00.000-08:002010-12-23T07:54:08.012-08:00Ralph Stanley<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDlEaKWpQN_0QEQji5MYB_qUUHXQRn5kiVTXxdkvkt1a6pgyFkvKE6evy3SivwZ94SRZbck6GHlwKOtA3ulD2XwPczQpGhZMXjWPi16pS-2qh4AYlLTkGjNOe3Rk5C4k3SFHDAF0UxMc89/s1600/Ralph_Stanley.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 395px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDlEaKWpQN_0QEQji5MYB_qUUHXQRn5kiVTXxdkvkt1a6pgyFkvKE6evy3SivwZ94SRZbck6GHlwKOtA3ulD2XwPczQpGhZMXjWPi16pS-2qh4AYlLTkGjNOe3Rk5C4k3SFHDAF0UxMc89/s400/Ralph_Stanley.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553900653945480642" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYeyly9MZTw6jYwHYr-YSsfSAyUcukkbjv1kHDo8xFqsYSjwWOsMK_eE-Ae0lJ-hznguGNsvSmq5t7GJRjsumhTtnmauNu82XAarhvhvcFP7qJMbj1jgqT1VSneBPGFuyUm0tOd8Clpvu-/s1600/Virginia+Trip+072.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYeyly9MZTw6jYwHYr-YSsfSAyUcukkbjv1kHDo8xFqsYSjwWOsMK_eE-Ae0lJ-hznguGNsvSmq5t7GJRjsumhTtnmauNu82XAarhvhvcFP7qJMbj1jgqT1VSneBPGFuyUm0tOd8Clpvu-/s400/Virginia+Trip+072.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553900651834742194" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFVtLI4CbQvPImVGNpeLLFyzxVeUctOuu9fCT7Ic-gt19TaN7MetKv-lEbzSXF5lBqiC1cWJqpm9Ic3lgqA1m6wfeArg23miidVtiPVeCMozFXCk4IhP8LoO5Po9MpfcMTzVND4SWn3Yn4/s1600/Virginia+Trip+076.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFVtLI4CbQvPImVGNpeLLFyzxVeUctOuu9fCT7Ic-gt19TaN7MetKv-lEbzSXF5lBqiC1cWJqpm9Ic3lgqA1m6wfeArg23miidVtiPVeCMozFXCk4IhP8LoO5Po9MpfcMTzVND4SWn3Yn4/s400/Virginia+Trip+076.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553900641169262594" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWkz8gFDi7Io49MKHy20Y63bHSEYoYCl-ilAXKTGvgqEFdaBwLJsn_Zayn3bFdAV2loABi9D6saQVzf5LbqRZt72c2KsFWbaZRTcmvO-XQLS7mLI1tCa20zPWY8Z3jxewU8PToQGf39ge/s1600/Virginia+Trip+083.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWkz8gFDi7Io49MKHy20Y63bHSEYoYCl-ilAXKTGvgqEFdaBwLJsn_Zayn3bFdAV2loABi9D6saQVzf5LbqRZt72c2KsFWbaZRTcmvO-XQLS7mLI1tCa20zPWY8Z3jxewU8PToQGf39ge/s400/Virginia+Trip+083.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553900639034998850" /></a><br /><br />I mailed this 1971 Rebel LP out to Ralph Stanley's mountain home in Southwestern Virginia in March of 2010 and received it back yesterday. I don't really think I could ask for a better looking Ralph Stanley autograph. The LP cover has a nice design, the signature is clean and bold, and it has perfect placement. In general, I wish Ralph didn't sign his name with a "Dr." in front of it, but he has done this ever since he received an honorary Doctorate of Music from Lincoln Memorial University in Harrogate, Tennessee back in 1976. I assume that every Ralph Stanley autograph signed with a sharpie says "Dr." on it.<br /><br />My friend John and I went on a road trip to McClure, Virginia in the summer of 2008. After touring the Ralph Stanley Museum in Clintwood, we drove six or seven miles up a windy mountain road to pay our respects to Carter Stanley at the Stanley family plot on Smith Ridge. As you can see from the photographs, Ralph's own resting spot is already designated. Before we left the area, we stopped at the gate of Ralph's modest ranch house and rang the buzzer, but no one answered.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-8178734125133030412010-12-07T14:46:00.000-08:002010-12-08T05:54:51.147-08:00Willie Nelson<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMG6XC9pLNr1lmaFjANqiuazrXxIDJsieUd4oRWQ9AkXLEyluaLlv9Z_QIEzXDxeR8810_6z_9_KF8RezjX541ilxU3NUshyphenhyphengYnwb9hzNFKgBpduqRIxUMdX6Hxpx0hnyZ4SjXJPVk2Ol5/s1600/Willie_Nelson.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 397px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMG6XC9pLNr1lmaFjANqiuazrXxIDJsieUd4oRWQ9AkXLEyluaLlv9Z_QIEzXDxeR8810_6z_9_KF8RezjX541ilxU3NUshyphenhyphengYnwb9hzNFKgBpduqRIxUMdX6Hxpx0hnyZ4SjXJPVk2Ol5/s400/Willie_Nelson.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548075638996901714" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIkPtbHDKN_64cbxcjco3lsmEVwaP_0__6hIsoHxlvnNnLXhFYSvMXmnxKBrXfCEQy3a-TEQtvSv0jhsT1w-yUFTUfWOAigIK5HeMydYl1ldPIgZF_3s0RW7bB_8W3Xt8RAds5fZFmLfD3/s1600/screenshot2343.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 184px; height: 89px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIkPtbHDKN_64cbxcjco3lsmEVwaP_0__6hIsoHxlvnNnLXhFYSvMXmnxKBrXfCEQy3a-TEQtvSv0jhsT1w-yUFTUfWOAigIK5HeMydYl1ldPIgZF_3s0RW7bB_8W3Xt8RAds5fZFmLfD3/s400/screenshot2343.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548075724351920882" /></a><br /><br />By 1982, the Outlaw Movement was long over and commercial radio-friendly pop music (e.g, the 1981 smash "9 to 5") had practically taken over the country music scene. In light of this trend, it made sense for legendary Memphis producer Chips Moman to record Willie singing a few well-chosen rock, soul, and pop selections from the 60s and 70s, though I doubt anyone could have predicted the immense popularity of Elvis's "Always On My Mind" as sung by Willie Nelson. As far as I know, it's his biggest hit as a performer.<br /><br />Despite its obvious commercial appeal, <span style="font-style:italic;">Always On My Mind</span> is not without aesthetic merits. Willie's voice was recorded perfectly and while the music isn't especially groundbreaking (The Flying Burrito Brothers recorded a country version of "Do Right Woman" back in 1968), the album cover has a post-modern quality to it that makes it stand out, despite its ubiquity. Whether intentional or not, the synthetic nature of Willie's chrome-colored outfit, his painted hair, and the collage of mountains in the background makes Willie look like some sort of futuristic hippie-cowboy in an alien landscape. At the same time, the look is his eyes is warm and inviting.<br /><br />I mailed the <span style="font-style:italic;">Always On My Mind</span> cover to Willie's ranch in Austin, Texas in January of this year and received it back yesterday, practically a year later. When I opened the package and examined the cover, I was surprised by the location of Willie's autograph, which is in the top right corner directly below the album title (pictured above). I've seen several signed copies of this record on eBay, but I haven't seen any signed in this particular spot. While one can never be 100% sure whether through-the-mail autographs are authentic, I do believe mine is real, despite the unusual signature placement. Otherwise, why would it have taken so long for the package to be returned to me? A secretary could have signed and returned this record 11 months ago. I also know that Willie has a reputation for being a very willing signer. <br /><br />Below the album scan is a picture of a Willie Nelson autograph that I know is real. To my eyes, both autographs look like they were written with the same hand, though the first loop after the "W" on the album cover is higher than it is in the second photograph and in most other examples I have seen.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-16025804131243781082010-11-17T08:31:00.001-08:002010-11-17T08:38:16.057-08:00Charlie Louvin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6cj5o1XyclXw1MSBgEuXSTIXKODZ6tqMyd5z5ZTyqgmgm3S5eVhvviUe5NtkIMeWe-9N2ndSuhtdWTf7sMUXj3YzR4gR0tybepPrz-MpPus-g7aztKLPfIYK2NxuDPEssC5ouhRSwXsu2/s1600/Charlie_Louvin.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 392px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6cj5o1XyclXw1MSBgEuXSTIXKODZ6tqMyd5z5ZTyqgmgm3S5eVhvviUe5NtkIMeWe-9N2ndSuhtdWTf7sMUXj3YzR4gR0tybepPrz-MpPus-g7aztKLPfIYK2NxuDPEssC5ouhRSwXsu2/s400/Charlie_Louvin.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540557422338012722" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPJC5jphTf6ddrQjOjekC2VGU6FQWxprl40v5jwxC3TtiSaEMlC5m9GgP3RmWBqCeZFYrRRcNwPEgdJFfAW7SOm8Wl8aPgi3ixuSP3MWEy0_voRDlaZOj6S30oCJf4qvhkjMSdbQ6TIV9/s1600/03260018.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPJC5jphTf6ddrQjOjekC2VGU6FQWxprl40v5jwxC3TtiSaEMlC5m9GgP3RmWBqCeZFYrRRcNwPEgdJFfAW7SOm8Wl8aPgi3ixuSP3MWEy0_voRDlaZOj6S30oCJf4qvhkjMSdbQ6TIV9/s400/03260018.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540557363913207634" /></a><br /><br />I never thought I’d get to see Charlie Louvin play a dive bar in New York City, let alone have the experience on multiple occasions. The above picture was taken in 2006 at The Rodeo Bar in New York City and it gives you a sense of the intimate environment, as well as the configuration of his band. Charlie brought along with him a bass player and a female harmony singer/acoustic guitar player and the trio was rounded out by three local musicians: a mandolin player (partially obscured), drummer, and electric guitar player (not pictured). The New York backing band did an excellent job and, as you might gather from the look on the drummer’s face, the band played loud, energetic honkytonk music, not the watered down stuff you hear at Opryland. <br /><br />My friends and I were in good spirits that night and were sitting at the front table, in plain view of the performers on stage. At the beginning of the show, I don’t think Charlie quite knew what to make of our group, but when he realized the extent to which we knew and loved his music, he warmed up to us pretty quickly, sitting at our table between sets and posing for pictures. At one point he even sang a song while seated at our table.<br /><br />As I recall, Charlie’s setlist was a mix of Louvin Brothers tunes, hits from his solo career, and country standards. During the break I asked him if he would sing "I Don’t Believe You Met My Baby," which he reluctantly declined to play because he didn’t feel that his harmony singer would be able to hit the high notes that Ira hit on the old Louvin Brothers recording. The following year when I caught Charlie at Maxwell’s in Hoboken, NJ, I asked him if Ira, who died in 1965, could ever have imagined the environment Charlie found himself in now. He paused for a moment and said "I don’t think Ira could have handled it." I guess his answer didn’t surprise me, but I didn’t forget it, either.<br /><br />It was at the Maxwell’s show that I asked Charlie to sign the above copy of his most popular solo record. I think you can tell by the illegibility of his signature that he was holding the record with one hand and signing it with the other, as there were no tables in the room for him to place the record while he signed it. Though this isn’t my most attractive cover, it does have sentimental value. I don’t know that I’ll ever have the opportunity to see a country music legend of Charlie’s stature in such a small club again.<br /><br />I can’t end this post without mentioning that Charlie is recuperating from surgery he had this past summer for pancreatic cancer. The surgery did not go as expected, and he needs your prayers and support. Visit his website if you care to leave him a message.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-49194658942137973732010-11-08T05:13:00.001-08:002010-11-08T05:38:03.488-08:00Les Paul<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVncyHtCuyp4ic-ayIKomjo7kgwEwwMW23Kffrnnfl-uIE9ULgZTgVY_qnoY-1rMOUxMw4SsIvzgicINq_Rh-10OaGnLhiwh88Yz8wYjWHMjNFI8qjeQuHBonQoboq2AhIQMRvg6xqyk1N/s1600/les_paul_16.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 393px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVncyHtCuyp4ic-ayIKomjo7kgwEwwMW23Kffrnnfl-uIE9ULgZTgVY_qnoY-1rMOUxMw4SsIvzgicINq_Rh-10OaGnLhiwh88Yz8wYjWHMjNFI8qjeQuHBonQoboq2AhIQMRvg6xqyk1N/s400/les_paul_16.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537167959536173602" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigFzLGszpqR51PUOwZot7Ag_8kC4f_z6LRfksoevxgH-GAc1DsSZ0PJ0QUUaudHj7QuLwFq4q3kzszud3JCfc4QV35iNqk0oZvYwlwYv6fEGeqevJVGCGe4edLcMoMP7K9CR1ZTpMpBqZ3/s1600/les_paul.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 398px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigFzLGszpqR51PUOwZot7Ag_8kC4f_z6LRfksoevxgH-GAc1DsSZ0PJ0QUUaudHj7QuLwFq4q3kzszud3JCfc4QV35iNqk0oZvYwlwYv6fEGeqevJVGCGe4edLcMoMP7K9CR1ZTpMpBqZ3/s400/les_paul.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537167965273363762" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Ryu4eKz2CtnpuZFjU4jtvq1w9qaq7uFrJKay4i_19CJhuxe9xIjoPRxdirZjcKSo02QeniVjFb-sFWg7pUZrkcszYl8R51HcEf9b545ZuX0jpeOVW5oopVb_z3W71mZYLBpeODV9gzeQ/s1600/Les_Paul_4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 377px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Ryu4eKz2CtnpuZFjU4jtvq1w9qaq7uFrJKay4i_19CJhuxe9xIjoPRxdirZjcKSo02QeniVjFb-sFWg7pUZrkcszYl8R51HcEf9b545ZuX0jpeOVW5oopVb_z3W71mZYLBpeODV9gzeQ/s400/Les_Paul_4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537167950789903538" /></a><br /><br />Les Paul was 92 years old when I caught one of his regular Monday night gigs at the Iridium on March 17, 2008. It was on the list of things I wanted to do before I moved from New York City and I'm just glad I didn't wait any longer, as he died 17 months later. I guess my hesitation in seeing him was that I knew he would not be playing at the level he was playing ten or twenty years earlier. It wasn't until I saw him perform that I realized he could still put on a very entertaining show on the strength of his personality alone. Sure, he missed a few notes and he shared the spotlight with a few guest performers, but the banter between the musicians and with the audience gave me priceless insight into Paul's personality and a reasonable understanding of what his post-Mary Ford shows were like in earlier times, despite not hearing any blistering guitar dynamics. And, the fact that he came out after the show, sat down at a table, and shook hands and signed autographs made for an even more memorable evening. <br /><br />As I stood in line to meet Les Paul after the show, I had three LPs and a brand new sharpie with me. When it came my turn to go up to Les's table, I handed him the records in the following order: least favorite cover, middle favorite cover, then my favorite cover. My thinking at the time was that the autograph on the third LP would probably look the best; after all, he'd have ample practice on the first two records. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The first autograph, on the <span style="font-style:italic;">World is Still Waiting for the Sunrise</span> album I had inscribed to my friend John, came out beautifully with a cool personalization: "Howdy!" with the "P" in "Paul" making a pretty, round arc around the inscription. The second autograph on the mediocre <span style="font-style:italic;">Hits of Les and Mary</span> cover came out okay, but the "Keep Rockin’!" personalization doesn’t fit with the music on the LP, which, like all of Les Paul’s music, simply isn’t rock and roll, and the "P" in "Paul" is much messier. The third autograph on my favorite cover, <span style="font-style:italic;">Lovers' Luau</span>, came out the worst, with Les accidentally smudging his signature with his hand as he signed the cover. <br /><br />It’s easy to second-guess the decisions I made when getting these records signed. Perhaps I should not have handed him the records in the order of least favorite to favorite, but I've had other experiences where I wished I had done this but hadn’t (see <a href="http://sign33.blogspot.com/2010/03/gil-scott-heron.html">Gil Scott-Heron</a>). Perhaps I should not have used a new sharpie, but I have autographs written with old sharpies that don't look very nice (see <a href="http://sign33.blogspot.com/2010/03/pete-seeger.html">Pete Seeger</a>). I suppose that if there's a lesson to be learned here, it's that much of autograph collecting is luck, not science. As I stated in the beginning of this entry, I'm just happy I got to see the legendary Les Paul at all.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-32703373084173396892010-10-22T06:29:00.000-07:002010-10-22T11:57:22.411-07:00Charley Pride<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYRT2hSurG6XF1CkdXP6lQXY6JhV6G5cECJXHc8Wmm-TyrqSaOqr_-GYfjlXZ1VkYse5r2rG9SayrNvxEkaFP5wpa-p1Qd1gn3NGzq7Tgz9TEV5_o8ozSNFzqnmqGRtlZsCGYERA-GBhl/s1600/Charlie_Pride.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 397px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYRT2hSurG6XF1CkdXP6lQXY6JhV6G5cECJXHc8Wmm-TyrqSaOqr_-GYfjlXZ1VkYse5r2rG9SayrNvxEkaFP5wpa-p1Qd1gn3NGzq7Tgz9TEV5_o8ozSNFzqnmqGRtlZsCGYERA-GBhl/s400/Charlie_Pride.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530862199272708610" /></a><br /><br />I sent this 1966 LP to Charley Pride’s post office box in Dallas earlier this year and got it back in the mail, signed, about a month later. The comment "my first album" leads me to believe he may not sign this one that often. This record features Charley’s first single, "Snakes Crawl at Night," as well as the great "Atlantic Coastal Line," both written by Mel Tillis and Fred Burch. I like the uncluttered, simple cover design, which is typical of late 60s RCA country LPs.<br /> <br />It’s worth noting that Charley’s early singles were distributed to country radio stations throughout the South without any pictures of Charley, for fear that racism might keep them from receiving airplay. At the time this LP came out, many folks assumed Charley Pride was white, and, consequently, this perfectly ordinary album cover likely surprised a few people.<br /><br />Charley Pride still keeps a busy touring schedule, but he doesn’t play the Mid-Atlantic States very often. If he ever makes his way out here again, I’ll be sure to be in the audience.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-24044404473496334342010-10-14T09:53:00.000-07:002010-10-14T13:50:11.777-07:00Hank Snow<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMTwlD1DXXwxwjD_YJVb_Z5L9z7Gs3zJuC6dnp6NEwWXcrHxzNw7Cvr_sBOUJiRRKDGfNwEP7jos7FYUCZYrKQ8f4Z0OV8qVNNkUXWJUXPB1wPCtFhygrl-oGbpWwhBqNCUeWpWJ5ZBou/s1600/Hank_Snow.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 394px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMTwlD1DXXwxwjD_YJVb_Z5L9z7Gs3zJuC6dnp6NEwWXcrHxzNw7Cvr_sBOUJiRRKDGfNwEP7jos7FYUCZYrKQ8f4Z0OV8qVNNkUXWJUXPB1wPCtFhygrl-oGbpWwhBqNCUeWpWJ5ZBou/s400/Hank_Snow.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527946303810156770" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrMJVz91grpX4ILUw57gLG2alS93gHrhuTMSmU-MfflFkqg6paXYQBtJd532vGQDWB3JC-cfM07Jx11mMWrd9pcqFa-qrBT5lQZxw3bhGB7ac6TiZf3IaHzan-YBxOEXh7ggKVfSx-gSg/s1600/Hank_Snow2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 292px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrMJVz91grpX4ILUw57gLG2alS93gHrhuTMSmU-MfflFkqg6paXYQBtJd532vGQDWB3JC-cfM07Jx11mMWrd9pcqFa-qrBT5lQZxw3bhGB7ac6TiZf3IaHzan-YBxOEXh7ggKVfSx-gSg/s400/Hank_Snow2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527946300567428018" /></a><br /><br />In May of 1994, some friends and I took a road-trip from Atlanta to Nashville, with the express purpose of meeting the venerable and relatively inaccessible country music legend, Hank Snow. Though Hank was still performing weekly on the Grand Ole Opry, he was not known for welcoming visitors. When we arrived in Nashville, we checked into a fleabag motel, hit a few used record stores, and then caught a Friday evening performance of the Grand Ole Opry, which was still regularly featuring Hank Snow in the final time-slot. Looking over the Opry program now, I see that Hank Snow, Porter Wagoner, Grandpa Jones, Skeeter Davis, Jean Shepard, Charlie Walker, Jimmy Dickens, and Connie Smith were all part of the same show. Not bad for an evening's entertainment, even if the Opry hasn't really been the Opry since it moved from the Ryman Auditorium in downtown Nashville to the suburbs of Opryland in 1974. <br /><br />Hank's performance that night was rather unmemorable, as age had considerably slowed him down. I remember him playing a slow Hawaiian song and having some difficulty reading the cue cards for whatever announcements he was supposed to make. He was dressed impeccably in one of his trademark Nudie Suits and just seeing him on stage was enough to make the trip to Nashville worthwhile for me. The following day, my friends and I drove out to Hank's modest but well-guarded estate in Madison, and rang the buzzer at the foot of the gated driveway. A woman answered through the speaker and courteously but firmly told us that Hank was not (and would not be) available to meet us and sign our records. This unceremoniously ended our attempt to meet Mr. Snow, so I had to resort to eBay to acquire the signed Hank Snow record pictured above. <br /><br />This <span style="font-style:italic;">Award Winners</span> LP popped up on eBay earlier this year with a "Buy it Now" price of $6.00 and it is one of the few prominently signed Hank Snow albums I have seen on eBay -- most are signed on the back cover with a faded ballpoint pen. Interestingly, this record once belonged to United Shows of America carnival operator Ed Gregory, who owned the rights to Jim Reeves and Faron Young before he filed for bankruptcy in 2002. I can only guess that Hank signed it for Gregory while he was performing at a United Shows of America carnival. A decade or two later, Gregory and his wife were convicted of bank fraud in Alabama and soon to be (controversially) pardoned by President Clinton in 2000. A report by the U.S. House Committee on Government Reform concluded that United Shows paid Clinton's brother-in-law Rodham $240,000 for undocumented consulting services before Gregory received the pardon.<br /><br />It seems very fitting that, out of all of Hank Snow's LPs, and he has over 100 of them, I would end up with a signed copy of this relatively obscure 1971 LP called <span style="font-style:italic;">Award Winners</span>. Believe it or not, <span style="font-style:italic;">Award Winners</span> was the only LP I was carrying under my arm that day in 1994 when I showed up at the Rainbow Ranch and tried to meet Hank Snow.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-34655422743232550012010-10-08T06:22:00.001-07:002010-11-08T05:40:14.435-08:00Red Simpson<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOaFL55TxlTH4zqrUhf0w6oan0GRt_vdLCOTW9bEM2XnFGYxA1QMKZPIaBkGFEFQDPMwoaVImqzpmk3eZPwc3moJu3Hboy-TRDjE-wKG_n5WXvcqQDHFHikNkzs9AthWVXI9O7ZwsC6iHT/s1600/Red_3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 393px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOaFL55TxlTH4zqrUhf0w6oan0GRt_vdLCOTW9bEM2XnFGYxA1QMKZPIaBkGFEFQDPMwoaVImqzpmk3eZPwc3moJu3Hboy-TRDjE-wKG_n5WXvcqQDHFHikNkzs9AthWVXI9O7ZwsC6iHT/s400/Red_3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525665187258553554" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxVJM0iONpZcYlpohKdWb9FzmEGmFhxmYcbhIV7APQbqbyQ8sMISMxOIx2KgxABb4C9-OrbFMhbN4GovXtZoVRx-MWqkSP95V8UAfDNFLq4OcJ440X-IipnT9rm3d9gB7ewr-iiJMSnWWD/s1600/Red_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 259px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxVJM0iONpZcYlpohKdWb9FzmEGmFhxmYcbhIV7APQbqbyQ8sMISMxOIx2KgxABb4C9-OrbFMhbN4GovXtZoVRx-MWqkSP95V8UAfDNFLq4OcJ440X-IipnT9rm3d9gB7ewr-iiJMSnWWD/s400/Red_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525665192462496930" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKOSNK6LkMsWz_ZCX8CruN6kjn-XdeVtGr_IVaMGRhQ2e1yMuMUDX30otSNeoK84b2-kX3cWOTX57-nVj-ng8kKKcI6QotIVcmMBBbyTeKq2xgVB3a5VyH8O4mbR1ZookNbI4tttSVGLeU/s1600/Red_1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKOSNK6LkMsWz_ZCX8CruN6kjn-XdeVtGr_IVaMGRhQ2e1yMuMUDX30otSNeoK84b2-kX3cWOTX57-nVj-ng8kKKcI6QotIVcmMBBbyTeKq2xgVB3a5VyH8O4mbR1ZookNbI4tttSVGLeU/s400/Red_1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525665197003517090" /></a><br /><br />During that same trip to Bakersfield where John and I saw Buck Owens at the Crystal Palace (see <a href="http://sign33.blogspot.com/2010/10/buck-owens.html">previous entry</a>), we caught one of Red Simpson's regular Monday night gigs at Trout's in a town called Oildale, which is a few miles north of downtown Bakersfield. The 73 year old nightclub is the last remaining authentic honkytonk in the Bakersfield area. <br /><br />Monday evenings are advertised as "SENIORS & SINGLES MIXER - LIVE MUSIC Featuring RED SIMPSON & LARRY PETREE!" and the music is really meant as accompaniment for dancing, the way it is at most of the best honkytonks in the country. On the warm September evening that we were there, the dance floor was packed, and most of folks dancing were over the age of 60.<br /><br />Red and steel player Larry Petree played mostly country standards that night and surprisingly few truck driving songs, the style of country music Red is famous for singing. We had been in contact with Larry the previous week and he knew we were going to be in the audience that night. Shortly after we arrived, he introduced us to Red and Red asked me what song I wanted to hear, to which I responded "Roll, Truck, Roll," without thinking that there's not much room for Larry to play on that song--not that that really mattered. They played "Roll, Truck, Roll" early in the set and they played "Hello, I’m a Truck" shortly after and I don't remember them playing any other truck-driving songs. They mostly played music that was more suitable for dancing. This was definitely entertainment for locals, while Buck's show was geared more toward out-of-towners.<br /><br />Red and Larry were very friendly with us and we all had a beer together after the show, where Red introduced us to his wife Joyce and signed our records. The entire place--the management, the wait staff, the bartender, the performers--were unusually welcoming and friendly, and this evening is my fondest memory of the Bakersfield trip.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-60783028896866441972010-10-01T13:21:00.000-07:002010-10-01T17:18:55.915-07:00Buck Owens<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDx7KeG7CKMzIWcLdKOIG2faZjfh19rstlpQ2TVcQcwf89iW_N6lWewLZWss5w411yZ27NJTUzynefppp6vQJ0tH-j0zYNdfgJrZsZdM_26KewaSrVDVNclgzWDmqF6H13lYCWXAohMNRx/s1600/Buck_Owens_1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 399px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDx7KeG7CKMzIWcLdKOIG2faZjfh19rstlpQ2TVcQcwf89iW_N6lWewLZWss5w411yZ27NJTUzynefppp6vQJ0tH-j0zYNdfgJrZsZdM_26KewaSrVDVNclgzWDmqF6H13lYCWXAohMNRx/s400/Buck_Owens_1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523175922317395298" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8aojPFKve9K6gnfiU7pRffKzRU5Nsom_8W4pc4NCfN3abzj9aGmFekKDTXLjvQns8IHMm2__yO1ekIPN5vjjxCotgFXZFp9uhowPDxh-b-SqSHARCKdX8KUgploQ9N8S7HKfbY2o4Jkly/s1600/Buck_Owens_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 398px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8aojPFKve9K6gnfiU7pRffKzRU5Nsom_8W4pc4NCfN3abzj9aGmFekKDTXLjvQns8IHMm2__yO1ekIPN5vjjxCotgFXZFp9uhowPDxh-b-SqSHARCKdX8KUgploQ9N8S7HKfbY2o4Jkly/s400/Buck_Owens_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523175914127185010" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxj-okQHFndDOH5fEGOwhk_fcYr14Gjyn8CymVB-3SmJmmxXv1Y7zWMZMG5FcO-NVYtHf9BNThd1FeBNwZZQID1ET2F73hVWFHDq2iBAQ_jZTu1oGDHgIJA1QVMZwPG2w8D_k5ccHt_kVt/s1600/Buck_4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxj-okQHFndDOH5fEGOwhk_fcYr14Gjyn8CymVB-3SmJmmxXv1Y7zWMZMG5FcO-NVYtHf9BNThd1FeBNwZZQID1ET2F73hVWFHDq2iBAQ_jZTu1oGDHgIJA1QVMZwPG2w8D_k5ccHt_kVt/s400/Buck_4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523175917748577874" /></a><br /><br />In September of 2003, my friend John and I took a weekend trip to Bakersfield to see Buck Owens at his Crystal Palace establishment. We weren’t able to meet Buck, but we were able to get a couple of LPs signed, thanks to our waitress who took our records backstage before the show started. Buck’s performance was decent, but I felt that he gave a little too much time to other (non-Buckaroo) members of his band, such as the backup singer pictured above. Even when Buck was in the spotlight, he wasn't exactly doing the things you expected to see him do. I distinctly recall him playing "Steel Guitar Rag" on the resonator guitar, which I would have gladly traded for a performance of "Streets of Bakersfield." In fact, the evening's entertainment was more akin to a variety show than a Buck Owens concert. Fortunately, I was able to catch a much more engaging Buck Owens performance at Bimbo’s 365 Club in San Francisco about a month later. <br /><br />When John and I got our signed LPs back after the show, our waitress examined the signatures, confirming that Buck himself had, indeed, signed them. Earlier that evening, she had told us that other people sometimes sign for Buck, but that one could tell an authentic Buck Owens signature by examining the "B."Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-41483648851986928152010-09-24T07:26:00.000-07:002010-09-24T12:33:09.550-07:00Patti Page<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvk340RNBzazn56pz7ZzWlIwXbtu55kBd9FmYIi9RtH-kQhzUl_QzBJNZT7I2o4XpP2XMVroMFP5Tlk3B-f_q3uqgPMAYxfCfNBWIiM2p9ssIfpXJyqftVJXgeRQb_TmyyYLHDzUtpq0Z7/s1600/patti_page_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 399px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvk340RNBzazn56pz7ZzWlIwXbtu55kBd9FmYIi9RtH-kQhzUl_QzBJNZT7I2o4XpP2XMVroMFP5Tlk3B-f_q3uqgPMAYxfCfNBWIiM2p9ssIfpXJyqftVJXgeRQb_TmyyYLHDzUtpq0Z7/s400/patti_page_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520486650222811538" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoXZHIOSBHVv-Q29W6yCAQ_SZOvwbXWgezKto9IGIaMdUv7FGyNuv2hl6wRvxEbhITQEKYVBZfDW0x44-8_neLP-UBHKd-3fDwaOMBEq9V19p76Hjevnqe40VryLECC4I62veYbLabP8rS/s1600/patti_page_1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 397px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoXZHIOSBHVv-Q29W6yCAQ_SZOvwbXWgezKto9IGIaMdUv7FGyNuv2hl6wRvxEbhITQEKYVBZfDW0x44-8_neLP-UBHKd-3fDwaOMBEq9V19p76Hjevnqe40VryLECC4I62veYbLabP8rS/s400/patti_page_1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520486657928608242" /></a><br /><br />What initially looked like a disaster turned into an attractive cover thanks to a little can of Goof Off. I sent Ms. Page this cover back in January along with a note mentioning, among other things, my father’s memory of escorting her to the stage in the early 1950s at a University of Detroit carnival. I received it back yesterday with two(!) inscriptions on it: one for me and one for “Ms. Griffin,” whoever that is--certainly no relation to me. It appears that Ms. Page got her mail mixed up and inscribed my record to someone else and then corrected her mistake by adding a second inscription. Maybe it took her eight months to decide if she should mail it back to me or not. Fortunately, this being one of those Mercury records with the thin glossy laminate coating, I was able to wipe off the accidental inscription with a rag and a dab of Goof Off. That would not have worked with any non-laminated record and very few are laminated--Mercury, Elektra, and CTI are the only ones I can think of off the top of my head. The fact that this trick worked at all lets you know how vulnerable some autographs can be. I’m just glad the “2010” was on the incorrect inscription and not the one meant for me. This way I don’t feel guilty wiping it off. Who wants to see “2010” on a 1959 record?Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-41315362312671356772010-04-30T14:36:00.000-07:002010-04-30T14:51:16.303-07:00Ramblin' Jack Elliott<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-bmR1RZ2PIkfocIDIgDf6ByVAr1nbj1huUP1uxyFjpj9T5SxdqmXzlvs0Fwawjq1HlWkibdtMZnuKPz7_aS1Fi6o0bA4mOHns1gQw-gw8Ra7tojJyh1mqIkb7BCR-Lj1nMRU604jxYd6/s1600/Jack_Elliott.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-bmR1RZ2PIkfocIDIgDf6ByVAr1nbj1huUP1uxyFjpj9T5SxdqmXzlvs0Fwawjq1HlWkibdtMZnuKPz7_aS1Fi6o0bA4mOHns1gQw-gw8Ra7tojJyh1mqIkb7BCR-Lj1nMRU604jxYd6/s400/Jack_Elliott.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466047659710155202" /></a><br /><br />Ramblin' Jack Elliott signed this 1960 Monitor record for me after a show he played at B.B. Kings Blues Club in 2006. He shared the bill with Peter Rowan, both playing separate sets. At one point Jack and Peter attempted to play a song together, but Jack's guitar was tuned to itself and was quite a bit off from standard tuning. Before Peter had a chance to re-tune to match Jack's guitar, Jack launched into a song. Since Peter was already standing there with his guitar in his hand, he had no choice but to try to play along by bending his strings into tune. This didn't work too well. Peter was obviously embarrassed, Jack was oblivious, and I was amused, finding the incident rather fitting for a Ramblin' Jack Elliott show.<br /><br />After the performance, Jack came out from the back stage area and was immediately cornered by some guy who brought about 30 records for him to "look through" and sign if and when he "felt like signing something." After the guy ushered Jack to a table, Jack picked up the first record in the collection, an early and obscure EP from the 50s, and bitterly commented that he never received any money for it. Reluctantly, he signed a few of the guy's records--very sloppily--working his way through the stack, obviously feeling a little trapped. It was at this point that I introduced myself and asked if he wouldn't mind signing my record, "after all, I only brought one." I hated to butt in like that, but if I hadn't, I'm sure the guy in front of me would have occupied all of Jack's time until he had had enough of the guy's collection and got up and left. Jack did sign my cover--also very sloppily--noting afterward that he added a couple extra "T's" to his name "because you can never have too many." I don't think Jack intentionally added the extra T's, but I wouldn't be surprised if he did.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-68458031396369769742010-04-23T04:16:00.000-07:002010-04-23T04:21:37.423-07:00George Jones<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK62lFoOHn6pE-otzmTz_i4_J-MujFxDXl1lJIm9s-9FvCdzkiPAPXPIesPg5Dlo5WhXLA4JvDhzQ3nznv3RI2WULdfpm_LpR-AjErwnhDuJIwRSEBrl42bg__DDVjAAlrLNmC2Kd1ocJJ/s1600/George_Jones.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 395px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK62lFoOHn6pE-otzmTz_i4_J-MujFxDXl1lJIm9s-9FvCdzkiPAPXPIesPg5Dlo5WhXLA4JvDhzQ3nznv3RI2WULdfpm_LpR-AjErwnhDuJIwRSEBrl42bg__DDVjAAlrLNmC2Kd1ocJJ/s400/George_Jones.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463290496922539746" /></a><br /><br />George Jones signed this Musicor cover earlier this year, after I mailed it to his fan club, and it's one of my favorite autographs I've gotten through the mail. I had met George while he was on his book tour about 15 years ago, but he wasn't signing memorabilia back then. Shortly after that book tour, I saw George in concert with Tammy Wynette, but he didn't sign stuff on that occasion either. Finally I decided that the best way to get him to sign a record was to mail him one, which I did, and I got it back within two weeks.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-45958357967963439822010-04-20T07:53:00.000-07:002010-04-20T07:58:34.809-07:00Porter Wagoner<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGWKRoiPwol_h41jE_DwX0UQamKnaU-berjtut8nbGiviGeQoIeDfhBPgLHF9xo8cpill1LAHtlwi2FeIamaFrm2OHq9B6fd1IaVtq1I48sxG87g_7MGhyphenhyphenM12uglpA3QJgdzh04-Qul-WB/s1600/porter2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 399px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGWKRoiPwol_h41jE_DwX0UQamKnaU-berjtut8nbGiviGeQoIeDfhBPgLHF9xo8cpill1LAHtlwi2FeIamaFrm2OHq9B6fd1IaVtq1I48sxG87g_7MGhyphenhyphenM12uglpA3QJgdzh04-Qul-WB/s400/porter2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462233477193540290" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPUGxA_0mxXfQkgIpymc-M3bWEtnLyopmBD2uzAomBquA60N41NpQwRH7CnrgeFb-h_lkmb5jk6nl0ZIrfCnBsHUqJLChmCDf4G3OJocsm9smq-ATtAMOrSpvo9S6d4rztNr9F7Kdm_tv/s1600/Porter_Wagoner.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 397px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPUGxA_0mxXfQkgIpymc-M3bWEtnLyopmBD2uzAomBquA60N41NpQwRH7CnrgeFb-h_lkmb5jk6nl0ZIrfCnBsHUqJLChmCDf4G3OJocsm9smq-ATtAMOrSpvo9S6d4rztNr9F7Kdm_tv/s400/Porter_Wagoner.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462233575981215650" /></a><br /><br />I got these two Porter Wagoner records signed backstage at Joe's Pub in New York City on March 30, 2007. After the show, I wrote up this short review and posted it on a guitar forum:<br /><br />Tonight I had the incredible opportunity to see Porter Wagoner backed by Marty Stuart at Joe's Pub in New York City. My wife and I got there early and grabbed a seat right in front of the stage. I had a couple records with me I was hoping to get signed, so I asked the guy in charge if Porter would be signing autographs after the show. This guy unbelievably brought me to a small back stage room to meet Porter and Marty. I shook hands with them and they were as friendly as can be. I was particularly taken with how nice, down to earth, and cool Marty Stuart is. He basically treated me like a good friend, even though we had just met.<br /><br />Porter's show was one of the most touching shows I have seen. He played a great set: Satisfied Mind, Dooley, I'll Go Down Swinging, Green Green Grass of Home, Rubber Room (!), Cold Hard Facts of Life, and more. Porter was really enjoying himself, as was Marty. I gather that Porter didn't know what to expect coming to New York City after all these years. He ended up absolutely loving it.<br /><br />At the end of the show, Porter and Marty came on for an encore. Porter didn't need his guitar for the song and there was no guitar stand. He handed the guitar to Marty who had nowhere to put the guitar so, recognizing me from before, he reached across the stage to my table and asked me to hold the guitar. So, I sat through the encore (I'll Go Down Swinging) holding Porter Wagoner's guitar. After the song, I gave Marty back the guitar and he shook my hand, giving me his guitar pick in the process as a token of thanks. This was a moment I won't forget.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-42851973462204087972010-04-09T04:10:00.000-07:002010-04-09T07:38:29.273-07:00Arlo Guthrie<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmwgd8JfYsm0b-tcDHT5tAxabuiHrdrs_6OBJUBb1hJpgJRM3oE0GCle3GoEa0A-6hGhnhlVW3OPV5grZT-LcPauM4qhbm5EC-MA5SGPwDwIb1nKRcZFZj8_9P9I3G8DYhVhENm6Czdll2/s1600/AG.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmwgd8JfYsm0b-tcDHT5tAxabuiHrdrs_6OBJUBb1hJpgJRM3oE0GCle3GoEa0A-6hGhnhlVW3OPV5grZT-LcPauM4qhbm5EC-MA5SGPwDwIb1nKRcZFZj8_9P9I3G8DYhVhENm6Czdll2/s400/AG.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458147067714511746" /></a><br /><br />This was the first record I ever got signed and it’s an aesthetic disaster, but it has sentimental value. I got this signed in the late 80s at a daytime show at the Frederick Fair Grounds in Frederick, Maryland. The price of admission was $5 and after the show Arlo sat down in the grass, talking with folks and signing autographs--mostly on cassette tapes. When I handed him this 1981 LP, he said something like "Look at this old thing." It’s funny how a 1981 record can seem more dated than a classic record from the 60s or 70s, but that’s exactly how this one seemed back then and it still does now; I mean, a signed <span style="font-style:italic;">Alice’s Restaurant</span> is a timeless artifact, but a signed <span style="font-style:italic;">Power of Love</span>--Arlo’s last major label record--is in a category all its own. The funny thing is, I had <span style="font-style:italic;">Alice’s Restaurant</span> on LP at the time, but I chose to bring this record to the show instead. I guess I thought it would be a nice gesture to bring a record from the current decade. Something that would not have occurred to me back then is that this "cut-out" copy probably reminded Arlo that this record did not sell very well. I wish that the notched spine was the only issue with this cover, but equally problematic is the fact that the autograph is totally lost in the Hawaiian shirt, not to mention that the pen was obviously running low on ink. There’s also the hideous cover design--at least Arlo’s got a nice tan.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-32256415281647032162010-04-06T04:17:00.000-07:002010-04-06T04:46:54.159-07:00Harry Belafonte<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtaz663OVMWarm5IPpiA4SKoiqKAXi6Lw1_PH7sPCEqAtiyszMusrtwLqLLgjCwTRq-ddfyNRgZJpJpaG9fR8MWfMbgEdt9ZCWHcM5M8Z4bwMGpfgr7_4x_Q7vDjAEuU6hJBr1P25UFPjt/s1600/hb.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 395px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtaz663OVMWarm5IPpiA4SKoiqKAXi6Lw1_PH7sPCEqAtiyszMusrtwLqLLgjCwTRq-ddfyNRgZJpJpaG9fR8MWfMbgEdt9ZCWHcM5M8Z4bwMGpfgr7_4x_Q7vDjAEuU6hJBr1P25UFPjt/s400/hb.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456982321551818610" /></a><br /><br />One of the benefits of maintaining this blog is that it motivates me to write letters to the legendary artists I admire like Harry Belafonte. <span style="font-style:italic;">Calypso</span> was probably the first album I ever heard, since it belonged to my parents, and I distinctly remember playing it on my toy turntable when I was a child. When I stumbled upon an incredibly clean copy of this 1956 LP in a dollar record bin last month, I knew I had to mail it to Mr. Belafonte and ask him to sign it. What I got back in return was much nicer than I anticipated. While I often prefer simple, clean signatures without a personalization, I do like autographs like this one that indicate a legitimate interaction took place; it’s nice to know that Mr. Belafonte appreciated my letter, making our exchange much less one-sided than it could have been.<span style="font-style:italic;"> Calypso</span> is one of the most popular records of all time--the first LP to sell over one million copies--and the elegant cover design is perfect for an autograph.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-90829012225652135832010-04-01T10:39:00.000-07:002010-04-01T10:42:04.494-07:00Bert Jansch<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxbsod24NRaRboCb4Wkf4C-oCjoBmZBrgkBRAgBXIoxnEO0_pD5e_hBIDeTDsnR_-iauURLZaTQzNPScyYGlNd_k_B72UFi-C54oiHnRbo40avDrIIllIoKn2pLAlzKckxjGuh12TzrkHB/s1600/bert_jansch2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 399px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxbsod24NRaRboCb4Wkf4C-oCjoBmZBrgkBRAgBXIoxnEO0_pD5e_hBIDeTDsnR_-iauURLZaTQzNPScyYGlNd_k_B72UFi-C54oiHnRbo40avDrIIllIoKn2pLAlzKckxjGuh12TzrkHB/s400/bert_jansch2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455225377740094642" /></a><br /><br />I got a chance to see Bert Jansch perform a solo show at Southpaw in Broolkyn, NY in 2006. I arrived an hour early to the show and sat next to a gentleman in his 60s who was surprised to see that someone my age (mid 30s) had come to see Bert perform. At that time there were about ten people in the venue and we were all comfortably seated in the only seating area--a small group of couches and chairs in a raised platform towards the back of the room. As people started to trickle in and stand in front of the stage, I decided to do the same so I would have a better view. An hour later the entire club was filled to capacity and most of the audience was in their 20s and 30s and I thought to myself that the surprised guy on the couch must be flabbergasted by now.<br /><br />Bert was captivating on stage, which is an extremely difficult thing to be when you're performing as a solo act. After the show, Bert came out from the backstage area and into the club to sign a few autographs. While I was waiting for my turn, it was brought to my attention that there were several more autograph-seekers on the sidewalk outside the venue--these were guys who hadn't even seen the show and were probably just looking for stuff to put on eBay. It always annoys me when I see this--fortunately Bert seemed to know what was up and he signed our stuff first. <br /><br />Recently Bert had to cancel a North American tour due to illness. I really hope he's feeling better and I get a chance to see him perform again.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-41108304090534619762010-03-30T04:13:00.000-07:002010-04-05T14:40:17.046-07:00Tom Paxton<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkyHfdfb0uPYjlo64SCG727iZPEvCv_spyAFNDbvQeqaIayRgKdjT_iHn1UXMMpxXcsT0Afwlya5lJB-vtG05j5H0ITZbGyPDikIEqJFvteivRCUg8P1IuUnqHYd3-dPjb7cXbyLW5PhL/s1600/Tom_Paxton.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 391px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkyHfdfb0uPYjlo64SCG727iZPEvCv_spyAFNDbvQeqaIayRgKdjT_iHn1UXMMpxXcsT0Afwlya5lJB-vtG05j5H0ITZbGyPDikIEqJFvteivRCUg8P1IuUnqHYd3-dPjb7cXbyLW5PhL/s400/Tom_Paxton.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454383644079749570" /></a><br /><br />I got Tom Paxton's first LP signed after a recent show at the Barns of Wolf Trap in Vienna, VA. I wish that every autographed record turned out like this one, with a clean, prominent signature and without a date.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-71966704149544204422010-03-26T07:55:00.000-07:002010-03-26T07:58:05.626-07:00Billy Joe Shaver<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvvPjDdi8HT8T__dW2MLnuMsrTL9CUWXNFRd0TgOsaJGWnykRwKiGsnqzsXrVfjjVUFKeFg0xD_A2fHFf1DiRy6IdT0nPYFdp0U0Db3laf3vvFAWcmjt53bXbCR2mlTkGFJIDedK9j8lER/s1600/Billy_Joe_Shaver.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 395px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvvPjDdi8HT8T__dW2MLnuMsrTL9CUWXNFRd0TgOsaJGWnykRwKiGsnqzsXrVfjjVUFKeFg0xD_A2fHFf1DiRy6IdT0nPYFdp0U0Db3laf3vvFAWcmjt53bXbCR2mlTkGFJIDedK9j8lER/s400/Billy_Joe_Shaver.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452956572663985778" /></a><br /><br /><br />Billy Joe Shaver signed this for me after a show at Joe's Pub in New York City a couple years ago. I've seen Billy Joe play live several times over the past fifteen years and he still puts on one of the best shows in the business--he's always got a kicking band and he always has a good time on stage. When my wife and I met Billy, the first thing he did was give my wife a huge hug, which I thought was pretty funny, then I handed him this record to sign and he pretended to run off with it before coming back to the merchandise table to sign it. His signature itself is amusing in that it takes up half the record.Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8760224191373220889.post-41079127769783614352010-03-23T04:05:00.000-07:002010-03-23T07:30:25.272-07:00Pete Seeger<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigkvVHyxT8SzA3glWBUH0WuafnA1XIOxC-hI08gFbUolMRpUnQQQ5GnpoY2WL9iqOsB3USGJafVgLvkuY0DNGEsXCUxexzDTSylRfcvQJd_z4ZnIdOn1En7-m4HzL5bWL7JoB8px9Wi7W6/s1600-h/seeger3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 397px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigkvVHyxT8SzA3glWBUH0WuafnA1XIOxC-hI08gFbUolMRpUnQQQ5GnpoY2WL9iqOsB3USGJafVgLvkuY0DNGEsXCUxexzDTSylRfcvQJd_z4ZnIdOn1En7-m4HzL5bWL7JoB8px9Wi7W6/s400/seeger3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451784378561258914" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Lda8U888ZBGRxkbOlqiMgPA3XZb_MrxJmxnAh_UNvObDafWjFyshxjylr6YwApLa8J6YF5F7i_y0evdHjWLWS1CvlcVvzGv5zT0IpqYKK0c34yaXZW_FaaGiFu2mPgNSZkAIyBVMJOos/s1600-h/Seeger_edited.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 399px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Lda8U888ZBGRxkbOlqiMgPA3XZb_MrxJmxnAh_UNvObDafWjFyshxjylr6YwApLa8J6YF5F7i_y0evdHjWLWS1CvlcVvzGv5zT0IpqYKK0c34yaXZW_FaaGiFu2mPgNSZkAIyBVMJOos/s400/Seeger_edited.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451784643017566530" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4T9LyzjJ2gP9rZMmAFBKS0USJUtFRzE53l2Z_pjm_hujanS4Cf6nwZxU06jOOvbgsNRCWZM-iO7gniKFxQvYujQ-sSvoPeIcoeVD3So0LcF1i75SCmf-iHJ-KeFPN4zcYBx5hDEkztI7t/s1600-h/seeger23.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4T9LyzjJ2gP9rZMmAFBKS0USJUtFRzE53l2Z_pjm_hujanS4Cf6nwZxU06jOOvbgsNRCWZM-iO7gniKFxQvYujQ-sSvoPeIcoeVD3So0LcF1i75SCmf-iHJ-KeFPN4zcYBx5hDEkztI7t/s400/seeger23.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451836491017116290" /></a><br /><br />Pete Seeger signed the <em>Village Gate</em> record backstage at the Avalon Theatre in Easton, MD in the summer of 2008. I did not get to meet Pete in person, but his grandson Tao Rodriguez-Seeger was nice enough to take my record backstage for him to sign. You may notice that the sharpie Pete used was a bit on the dry side -- had I been able to personally hand this cover to him, I would have asked him to use the new sharpie that I had brought with me. This LP has an attractive cover design, but the background is really too dark for the autograph to display prominently and while you can see the signature clearly on this scanned image, it just doesn't stand out that much in person.<br /><br />I was able to obtain the autograph on the <em>Abiyoyo</em> album by mailing the cover directly to Pete. I think the signature looks perfect, but the item would have broader appeal if it didn't say "to Mike Xxxxxx" in the top left corner (note that I edited out my last name). When I first saw the personalization, I was sure that it was written by someone other than Pete because it was written with a different color sharpie than the signature. Then I compared the letters in the personalization with the letters in the xeroxed, handwritten letter he enclosed and decided that Pete also wrote the personalization, but perhaps as an afterthought when he had a different color sharpie in his hand.<br /><br />The letter that came in the mail with the <em>Abiyoyo</em> record is probably more interesting to look at than either of these LPs. I wonder if some other folks who have sent Pete memorabilia have gotten their stuff returned unsigned along with one of these letters, also unsigned. Perhaps if I hadn't taken the time to write Pete a sincere, thoughtful letter, I would not have gotten his autograph or the personal note on the form letter. That's okay by me. I think anyone who hits Pete Seeger up for an autograph should respect and admire him as much as I do.<br /><br />Postscript: I like the fact that both the letter I sent to Pete and the letter I got back from him were handwritten. How often does that happen these days?Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18201456700925939354noreply@blogger.com7