There’s not much to say here except, man that guy’s been good for a long time.
A great clip of Johnny Gimble and Tiny Moore. With the great Eldon Shamblin on guitar and Jethro Burns on mandolin. Just plain good stuff.
Ok so maybe I just need to call this Tony Rice Friday instead of Freaky Fiddle Friday, but hey, whatever, it’s good stuff. Here’s a good quality version of “Why You Been Gone So Long,” with a young Super Sammy Bush on Mando and Jerry Douglas on Dobro, both sporting dutiful period correct Appalachian Mud Flaps. And seriously, I swear Wyatt’s had the same haircut his entire life, I think he popped out with that on his head, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it right? Good version of this tune.
That, my friends, is a man who lived it, ate it, drank it, walked it, talked it, played it, and like all us, in the end, became it.
Long live the old time river man.
According to the Bluegrass Blog Kenny Baker passed away today after suffering a stroke earlier in the week. This is truly sad news. He was truly one of the greats.
I have two words for you, Jerusalem Ridge, that is all.
There is absolutely nothing freaky about today’s Freaky Fiddle Friday. Just some straight up good fiddlin around. Today we are featuring, the incomparable Bobby Hick’s playing one of his signature tunes Fiddle Patch. I could listen to that all day.
Ok so in honor of the royal wedding today’s Freaky Fiddle Friday features Brad Leftwich playing Bonaparte’s Retreat. There is all sorts of Folklore surrounding this one. I was always assumed it to be in favor of the Brits, but apprently Wikipedia thinks it’s an Irish tune in favor of Napolean, who knew.
“The Bonny Bunch of Roses” Lyric goes like this so feel free to sing along.
- Near by the swelling ocean,
- One morning in the month of June,
- While feather’d warbling songsters
- Their charming notes did sweetly tune,
- I overheard a lady
- Lamenting in sad grief and woe,
- And talking with young Bonaparte
- Concerning the bonny Bunch of Roses, O.
- Thus spake the young Napoleon,
- And grasp’d his mother by the hand:-
- “Oh, mother dear have patience,
- Till I am able to command;
- I’ll raise a numerous army,
- And through tremendous dangers go,
- And in spite of all the universe,
- I’ll gain the bonny Bunch of Roses, O.”
- Oh, son, speak not so venturesome;
- For England is the heart of oak;
- Of England, Scotland, and Ireland,
- The unity can ne’er be broke.
- And think you on your father,
- In the Island where he now lies low,
- He is not yet interred in France;
- So beware of the bonny Bunch of Roses, O.
- Your father raised great armies,
- And likewise kings did join the throng;
- He was so well provided.
- Enough to sweep the world along.
- But when he went to Moscow,
- He was o’erpower’d by drifting snow;
- And though Moscow was blazing
- He lost the bonny Bunch of Roses, O.
- “Oh, mother, adieu for ever,
- I am now on my dying bed,
- If I had liv’d I’d have been brave
- But now I droop my youthful head.
- And when our bones do moulder,
- And weeping-willows o’er us grow,
- Its deeds to bold Napoleon
- Will stain the bonny Bunch of Roses, O.”