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LEGENDS OF

FLATPICKING GUITARby Mark Humphrey

If you had been learning guitar in your grandpa’s time,you might have bought a method book for ‘plectrum styleguitar.’ The Latin-rooted plectrum (‘to strike’) soundedhigh-handed to country guitarists, who preferred to speakof straight picks or flatpicks (as opposed to the curvedvariety worn on the thumb for Carter-style strumming orTravis-style fingerpicking). Flatpicking came to describea genre of guitar playing in the early 1970s, about thetime the four men featured in this video started beingwidely noticed. And it is a genre they defined: guitaristsof every ilk from grunge rock to trad jazz play withflatpicks, but they tend not to be called flatpickers. It istribute to the dazzling instrumental skill of Doc Watson,Tony Rice, Norman Blake and Dan Crary that they notonly defined this relatively recent development in Ameri-can traditional music; their facility with a simple piece ofplastic (or nylon or tortoise shell) became the adjectivefor a school of guitar.

The music played on this video isn’t only aboutflatpicking, of course. “Beyond technique are somedeeper essentials of musicianship,” Tony Rice once notedin a Frets magazine column (Frets, April 1985). “Musicis mainly communication...Doc Watson and Dan Crarycould both play the exact same notes of the same tune,yet sound totally different.” For demonstration purposes,check their disparate versions of ‘the flatpickers nationalanthem,’ Black Mountain Rag, on this video. Both areexpressions of distinctly individual personalities, as is ev-ery other note played on this video. Hot licks abound,but behind them is a focused skill of communicationthrough music, which, whatever the genre, is the reasonwe honor such artists as ‘legends.’

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DOC WATSON

While flatpicks and guitars had been meeting for a longtime before Doc Watson came along, he endowed that rela-tionship with a fresh zest. Audiences who heard his 1963Newport Folk Festival debut were stunned by Doc’s facility.“In the early 1960s,” Dan Crary told Art Coats (Pickin’,February 1975), “guitar and folk music were pretty muchsomebody on a nylon-stringed guitar doing some groovystrums. And all of a sudden here comes Watson playing allthis beautiful, clean, driving stuff with a flatpick. People wereliterally on the floor gasping for breath.” The ever modestDoc is quick to point to such predecessors as GeorgeShuffler, who flatpicked fleet lead lines with the StanleyBrothers, and Don Reno, best remembered for his extraor-dinary banjo skills but also a fine flatpick style guitarist.But Doc reached ears the bluegrass musicians simply didnot. “Doc has revolutionized flatpicking,” Ralph Rinzler,Doc’s discoverer, once remarked. “He has his own style,and you can hear it coming out in other guitarists who imi-tate him. Doc has set more fingers picking than anybodyexcept maybe Chet Atkins, Maybelle Car ter and MerleTravis.”

Arthel ‘Doc’ Watson’s life is something of a Horatio Algerstory. His ‘triumph over adversity’ tale opens in 1923; Docis of the generation of Americans who grew up during thelean years of the Depression. Deep Gap, North Carolina

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wasn’t exactly prosperous in the best of times, and Doc’sdifficult conjunction of time and place was exacerbated byhis being blinded in infancy. But working to his advantagewas a large and loving family in which music was a con-stant presence. His parents’ singing, his brothers’ banjo play-ing and fiddling, and his own boyhood experiments with theharmonica and “everything that had a musical tone” set thestage for Doc’s later success.

The arrival of a Victrola in the Watson home when Docwas six provided a further catalyst: the fascinating contrap-tion evoked such influential voices as those of the Car terFamily, who first gave Doc the incentive to take up the gui-tar. “I started off playing with a thumb lead, Maybelle Carterstyle,” Doc told Jon Sievert (Frets, Vol. 1 No. 1, arch 1979).“Then when I began to listen to Jimmie Rodgers I figuredout there was something being done there besides the thumband finger. So I got me a pick and started working on it.”

Doc picked and sang for a time with his brother Linney,imitating the then popular sounds of the Monroe and DelmoreBrothers. By age 18, Doc was playing with bands on localradio broadcasts as well as for tips on the streets. “Peoplewho heard me on the street invited me to come to amateurcontests and fiddlers’ conventions,” Doc told Sievert. “I didwin some contests, and I remember one time I entered oncein the professional category and won it. That really helpedmy ego.”

Word of Doc’s talent spread. In 1953 he began a stintas lead electric guitarist with Tennessee pianist Jack Will-iams, playing everything from square dance tunes torockabilly. “The hardest chore I got into with that group wasplaying the lead fiddle tunes for square dancing,” Doc toldSievert. “I got a lot of technical practice with the flatpickduring those years. It helped build my knowledge of usingthe flatpick enormously.”

By the time Ralph Rinzler and Eugene Earle discoveredDoc in 1960, the 37-year-old part time piano tuner had de-veloped an extensive repertoire and commanding instru-mental skills for expressing it. Rinzler has described Doc’sdiscovery as ‘serendipitous,’ for the timing coincided per-fectly with the burgeoning folk revival. Stylistically, Doc fitmidway between the rediscovered ‘old timers’ such asClarence Ashley who excited the folklorists and young cam-pus favorites like Joan Baez who were then still performing

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traditional songs. Doc grew up with the ‘old time’ traditionbut had developed exciting new ways to express it. Within adecade of his discovery a whole school of guitarists wereeagerly following his example.

How did Doc feel about that? “You hear somebody playa lick that I figured out,” Doc told Joe Wilson (Sing Out!Vol. 29/No. 1), “it makes you just as proud as can be. Youthink, well, somebody likes what I do. A lot of people arejealous, but I figure if he learns too many of my licks I’llfigure out some harder ones. Earl Scruggs said the samething. He said that lots of people in the music business feltlike somebody was stealin’ corn from their crib. He said, ‘IfI can’t do it better than the people who copy me, I’m a-wantin’ know-how.’”

As for transmitting know-how, Doc believes a lot has todo with the quality of the receiver. “A person’s born withthe talent to play music,” Doc told Joe Wilson and JeanStewart. “Ain’t no use in beatin’ around the bush to sayanybody can learn to play the guitar when you know theycan’t either...Some people learn it mechanically but I’m sureyou’ve heard people play that sounded mechanical.” Onanother occasion Doc told Michael Brooks (Guitar Player,July/August 1972): “There’s more than just technique go-

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ing into the music. You have to feel it as well. If the picker’spersonality isn’t expressed in the picking technique, there’ssomething missing.”

But technical command surely marches in tandem withmusical expression. “When you start out,” Doc suggestedto Brooks, “you’ve got to learn to develop an even strokeso that you can play the same clean picking stroke on thestring coming up as you do picking down. And syncopa-t ions are impor tant too, l ike [mandol inist] JesseMcReynolds...When you’re beginning the guitar, don’t feelbad about practicing a few scales because, using an evenup-and-down stroke, there’s no better way to develop theflatpicking technique than to learn a few of the easier scaleson the guitar and practice those until you can speed themup.”

Though Doc spawned a whole school of flatpicking gui-tarists, he has never felt that his disciples should remainimitators of Doc Watson. Advising a young admirer who hada handful of Doc’s arrangements worked out, Doc told him:“Son, when you learn to play those without missing a note,begin to think of some things that you want to add to themor some of my things that you want to take out and replacewith some stuff of your own.”

Doc’s performances here, ably assisted by his late sonMerle and Jack Lawrence, show not only his influential in-strumental facility but also his warm vocals and winningway with everything from pop chestnuts (Bye Bye Blues) tofiddle tunes (the flatpickers’ national anthem, Black Moun-tain Rag). Along with their musical strengths these perfor-mances are richly imbued with a quality Ralph Rinzler de-scribed in his 1964 Sing Out! profile of Doc as a “forthrighthonesty that pervades his approach to life in all aspects.”

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TONY RICE

“It’s the same with musicians as with instruments,” TonyRice once told Mark Hunter (Frets, April 1980). “As theyplay longer, it sounds richer. The sounds of experience.”Tony’s enriching experience has spanned a lifetime of play-ing in such influential ensembles as J.D. Crowe and the NewSouth, the David Grisman Quintet, and his own Tony RiceUnit. A seminal figure in the birth of ‘new acoustic’ music inthe 1970s, Tony has reaffirmed his abiding love for tradi-tional sounds in duet recordings with Ricky Skaggs andNorman Blake. “I have influences from the bluegrass, jazzand folk worlds,” Tony told Hanson, “but I try to put my ownstamp on what I do.” And that stamp is unmistakably TonyRice. “What I want,” he has said, “is a pounding sound oneach note...Some people say I’m the loudest acoustic gui-tar player they’ve ever heard.”

David Anthony Rice was born the second of four sonsin Danville, Virginia in 1951. His father, Herbert, playedmandolin and guitar: Tony was exposed to the classic re-cordings of Bill Monroe and Flatt & Scruggs at an early age.The Rice family moved to southern California when Tonywas just two, but the bluegrass music his father and olderbrother Larry played went West, too. “To tell you the truth,”Tony said to David McCarty (Acoustic Guitar, November/December 1993), “I probably started playing guitar justbecause it was there.” Tony discovered the instrument when

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he was only five: “I prob-ably put my hands aroundit and kind of lucked intosome kind of sound,” herecalls. “But anyway, I wasoff and running.”

Tony was nine when hemade his performance de-but on the Town Hall Partyradio show, a popular LosAngeles countr y musicshowcase. Performing onthe same show was a bandcalled the Country Boys,later renamed the Ken-tucky Colonels. Tony wasstruck by the talent anddrive of the band’s sixteen-year-old guitarist, ClarenceWhite. His admiration led to a friendship and apprentice-ship with one of the most creative flatpickers of his era.(Recalling a 1964 Newport Folk Festival workshop withWhite, Doc Watson once said: “He could really tear itdown...he almost scared me.”)

“I played rhythm similar to Clarence White,” Tony toldMark Hunter, “and he really played differently. A bluegrassrhythm is ‘boom-chick’ and there’s another that’s ‘boom-chicka,’ and there’s yet another thing that Clarence did andI do, which is an extra note in there, an extra upsweep withyour pick, which certainly adds a fuller sound.” DespiteWhite’s strong influence, Tony believes that it enhancedrather than overwhelmed his own individuality. “For a longtime,” he told McCarty, “people thought that Tony Rice wasan extension of Clarence White. Well, I’m not sure aboutthat, because as much as I admired Clarence, the more Itried to play like him, the more I found out that I could notplay like Clarence White. What happened as a result of try-ing to play like Clarence was that I developed a uniquesound, both rhythmically and harmonically. Trying to soundlike him opened up a whole new world for me.” And oncehe set foot in that world, Tony never looked back. “I nevereven finished high school,” Tony recalls. “I knew what I wasgoing to do as long as I had ten fingers.”

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In 1965, Tony’s family moved back East. Bluegrass fes-tivals were becoming popular there in the late 1960s, and itwas at Carlton Haney’s Reidsville, North Carolina festival in1971 that Tony met and auditioned for the Bluegrass Alli-ance. The group’s guitarist-singer, Dan Crary, was leaving,and Tony stepped into his spot. With mandolinist Sam Bush,Tony made his first explorations of progressive bluegrassduring his year-long stint with the Alliance. His brother, Larry,was working as mandolinist with banjoist J.D. Crowe, andwhen the opportunity to join Crowe’s New South arose in1972, Tony grabbed it. “I learned general musicianship fromJ.D. Crowe,” Tony told McCarty. “His approach has a delib-eration that’s really important, and I learned that from him.”Tony’s stint with the New South saw the addition of two otheroutstanding young musicians, Ricky Skaggs and Jerry Dou-glas, to Crowe’s band. But the decision in 1975 to amplifythe New South displeased Tony (“I never really saw anypurpose in it”), so in September of that year he left the NewSouth for a promising venture in the New West with mando-linist David Grisman.

“We did a lot of rehearsing to put that band together,”Rice explained to McCarty. “We didn’t even appear on stageanywhere for probably three months after I got out there.”Once unveiled, the David Grisman Quintet’s sound washailed as revolutionary, and Tony Rice’s guitar was a bigpart of the buzz. Tony left the Quintet in 1979; his celebrated1980 duet album with Ricky Skaggs was hailed as a ‘back-to-the-roots’ masterpiece.

In the years since, Tony’s recordings and performanceshave balanced the experimental ‘new acoustic’ sound hepioneered in the late 1970s with the traditionalism evidentin the Skaggs-Rice ‘brother duo’ sound. His performanceshere find him jamming with his old Bluegrass Alliance bandmate, Sam Bush, as well as New South alumni Ricky Skaggsand Jerry Douglas. Fiddler Mark O’Connor and banjoist BelaFleck add to the splash of the new acoustic rafting romp,Whitewater; the Skaggs-Rice duets evoke the soulful coun-try brother duets of the 1930s and the Tony Rice Unit’s ren-dition of the Stanley Brothers’ White Dove (with a harmonycameo by Peter Rowan) evokes Tony’s Virginia roots.

Asked about pointers for aspiring pickers, Tony toldMark Hanson: “The advice I usually give people is to try toplay fluently what they hear in their heads.”

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NORMAN BLAKE

“My one philosophy in life is this,” Norman Blake oncetold Louisville Times reporter Ronni Lundi: “I’ve never knownwhat I’m going to do, but I certainly know what I’m not go-ing to do.” With that certainty in mind Blake has carved hisniche in the flatpickers’ hall of fame as a kind of progres-sive conservative, a man deeply rooted in tradition who stillenjoys pushing his own perimeters when the spirit moves.

“I listened to a lot of old-time country and bluegrassmusic as I came up,” Blake told Art Coats (Pickin’, Febru-ary 1975). Those sounds were in the air around Chatta-nooga, Tennessee, where Blake was born in 1938, and like-wise around the small northern Georgia towns where he wasraised, Sulphur Springs and Rising Fawn. An only child,young Norman was doted on by a grandmother who playedpiano, guitar, and mandolin. She helped, Norman has said,with “music in general...how music worked.” A fiddlingcousin also helped him grasp timing and appropriate chordchanges in ‘seconding.’ Norman took up the guitar at ageeleven: “The first thing I did was some fingerpicking stuff,”he told Coats. “The only lead playing I did on the guitar atfirst was bass style, like Mother Maybelle Carter. I did it witha thumb and finger. I didn’t use a flatpick. The flatpickingcame in with the mandolin.”

“When I did start playing the guitar with a flatpick,”Norman told Jon Sievert (Frets, March 1988), “I started

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using some of the mandolin technique I’d developed. Like Iused to try to play this rhythm on the mandolin where yourhand actually goes in a figure-eight pattern on the strings...Igot into that and gradually kept bringing it down into single-string playing on the guitar.”

Norman was too enamored of music to finish highschool. At sixteen he joined the Dixieland Drifters, with whomhe played mandolin and dobro on Knoxville radio stationWNOX’s Tennessee Barndance. The Drifters would earn thedistinction of being the only bluegrass band to record forSun Records (their 1957 recordings waited until the 1980sto be released). Norman’s talents subsequently earned himstints in Hylo Brown’s traditional bluegrass band, theTimberliners, as accompanist to country singer WalterForbes, and as part of June Carter’s road band. Uncle Samrequested a different performance (U.S. Army radio opera-tor) in l96l and Norman brought his fiddle and mandolinskills to the Panama Canal, where his Fort Robbe Moun-taineers was voted Best Instrumental Group of the Carib-bean Command!

After his 1963 discharge Norman was back in Nash-ville, where June Carter had become part of Johnny Cash’stroupe. Carter’s enthusiastic recommendation got Norman

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some record dates with Cash (you hear his dobro on “Un-derstand Your Man”), though he continued to teach guitarin Sulphur Springs and pick with a local country band.Norman’s low profile heightened considerably in 1968 whenhe played on Bob Dylan's influential Nashville Skyline al-bum. The following year he became part of the house bandon Cash’s network television show, and his new visibilitybrought him session work with Kris Kristofferson, Joan Baez,and John Hartford (he toured with Hartford's Aeroplaneband). Norman’s role in the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's Will theCircle Be Unbroken project and the release of his debut soloalbum, Home in Sulphur Springs on the then fledglingRounder label, effectively launched his solo career.

In 1972, a young cellist from Independence, Missouriwas performing in a group which opened for Norman atNashville’s Exit Inn. “That was the first time I’d ever heardhim,” Nancy Blake told Jon Sievert, “and I thought to my-self, ‘This guy must be totally nervous to play this fast!’”Despite coming from different musical worlds (Nancy’s train-ing was classical, though she was performing in a progres-sive rock ensemble), the pair hit it off and were married in1975. Both the marriage and musical partnership havematured over the ensuing two decades.In 1978, fiddler James Bryan joined the B1akes to form theRising Fawn String Ensemble, a trio that lasted nearly eightyears. “It gives my guitar music some places to go where ithasn’t been before,” Norman said of the trio to Art Coats(Frets, April 1979); “We’re very much into the bass lineconcept in our music...Nancy and I play the bass line to-gether when we back the fiddle with the guitar and cello...Itgives James some decent backup.”

Like any new combination playing old time music, theRising Fawn String Ensemble met with mixed notices: “Whenpeople started to label us as ‘chamber music,”’ Blake toldRonni Lundy, “it was a little offensive to us.” But the pointthe Blakes and Bryan hoped to make was that old time coun-try wasn’t one dimensional. “A lot of people can’t get pastthe cornfield,” Norman told Roanoke Times reporter LauraAlderson. “I’m looking for the source.” Norman’s search forthe source frequently took him musically to the British Isles,a journey manifest in much of the Rising Fawn StringEnsemble’s performance on this video. “Our music demandsan ancient tone character,” says Norman, who cites old fiddle

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books as one of the source he looks to for both materialand inspiration. Likewise, he hews close to what he calls“good old-fashioned country music” as witnessed by suchstandards as Jimmy Brown the Newsboy and the DelmoreBrothers’ Nashville Blues.

Norman’s approach to fiddle tunes prompted this com-mentary from J.D. Kleinke (“Backroad Baroque,” AcousticGuitar, November/December l99l): “One of the most dis-tinctive qualities of his playing is a singular ability to pre-serve and emulate the spirit and drive of old-time fiddlemusic with six strings and a flatpick,” wrote Kleinke. “Blake’sheavy use of down-up-down-up cross-picking betweenmelody note and harmony note accomplishes two key thingsin the pursuit of the old-time fiddle sound: the square down-up stroke perfectly replicates the bowing patterns (‘sawing’and ‘shuffling’) of an old-time fiddler; the two-string har-mony of the cross picked pattern captures the drone echoof a fiddler’s double stops, the chordal essence of traditionalfiddling.”

Norman likes to cite an old mandolin book when askedfor tips from aspiring flatpickers: “They said you have topick it like you were shaking water off your hand,” he re-marked. “I simply turn my wrist outward.” Beyond tech-nique, Norman told Art Coats: “I’m just lost in the tune andtrying to interpret what’s in my head...” Which, despite lim-ited formal education, is a lot. “I’ve got a ninth grade edu-cation,” Norman admits. “There isn’t much else that I canmake as much money at as I’ve been able to do with music...Iplay for pure survival reasons, as well as, you know, lovingit.”

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DAN CRARY

Lest the high percentage of dropouts among our ‘Leg-ends of Flatpicking’ discourage any aspiring pickers with ahigh school diploma, take note that Dan Crary has a Ph.D.and is an active professor of speech communication at CalState Fullerton. His first line of academic pursuit was theol-ogy, which may account for Dan’s philosophical pronounce-ments on flatpicking and the betterment of humankind: “Mynomination for something that’s going to make a differenceis a real aesthetic experience,” Dan told David McCarty(Bluegrass Unlimited, June 1989). “It connects you to otherhuman beings that have had a similar experience... It’s notjust another way to spend your recreational dollars... it willbring tremendous rewards from rigorous study and partici-pation, or from just doing it once in awhile and being kindof your neighborhood fiddle player.”

It’s fitting that a fiddler (or, more accurately, violinist)was among the earliest inspirations of one of the men whotook fiddle tunes to the guitar. Though only five, Dan viv-idly recalls a recital by Fritz Kreisler: “I was knocked out bythe audience's reaction and by all the flourishes of Kreisler’sperforming,” Dan told Jim Hatlo (Frets, February 1980).

Born in Kansas City, Kansas in 1939, Dan was elevenwhen he fell in love with the guitar based on the per for-mances of a local radio personality, Don Sullivan: “He tuned

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his guitar down about three frets,” Dan told Art Coats(Pickin’, February 1975), “and played a real jangly, veryguitar sounding backup.” Dan’s first instrument was anarchtop, f-hole Gretsch, and by the time he was fifteen, he’dmade his performance debut singing Burl Ives’ The Balladof Thunderhead at Kansas City’s Granada Theater in a lo-cal talent contest. “I'd get up wearing a cowboy shir t andhat and play a couple of funny songs I’d worked up,” Danrecalled in an interview with Dan Daniel (Walnut Valley Oc-casional, April 1986).

Following high school graduation in 1957, Dan went toChicago to attend the Moody Bible Institute. He was in Chi-cago when the Kingston Trio’s Tom Dooley ushered in thefolk boom, and Dan began working on arrangements ofsongs. “It wasn’t long after I left Chicago in 1960,” Dan toldHatlo, “that I started looking for places to play and makesome money.”

However, Dan’s primary pursuits were still academic:in 1965 he moved to San Francisco to pursue a theologydegree at the Golden Gate Seminary. Two years later hewas pursuing a doctorate in theology at Southern Seminaryin Louisville, Kentucky, where he became involved with per-forming a music he’d been listening to since the early 1950s,bluegrass. In 1968 Dan joined the Bluegrass Alliance, a bandwhich made waves at Carlton Haney’s festival in 1969. “Asfar as I knew,” Dan told David McCarty, “there was nobodyflatpicking in bluegrass bands in the late 1960s when wewent to our first festivals...I guess that was one contributionthat we made.” It wasn’t unheard of – George Shuffler andDon Reno, as previously mentioned, had done it a decadeearlier. But in the wake of Flatt & Scruggs’ stardom fromthe film Bonnie and Clyde, the banjo became the reigningstar of the bluegrass instrumental firmament. “People werereal interested in the fact that I was playing some lead gui-tar breaks,” Dan told Hatlo. “This was a time when leadguitar playing in bluegrass had kind of subsided and notmuch of anybody was doing it.” His stint with the BluegrassAlliance was influential on Dan’s repertoire and relation-ship to traditional music. From fiddler Lonnie Peerce helearned such tunes as Forky Deer and Dusty Miller and anappreciation of fiddle music in general: “Lonnie became mymain source of information about fiddle styles and fiddletunes,” Dan recalled.

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By the time he left the Bluegrass Alliance in 1970, Danhad made his influential first solo album, Bluegrass Guitar(American Heritage). In the quarter century since Dan hasdivided his energies between academics and music. Alongwith teaching at Cal State Fullerton, Dan has toured andrecorded extensively both as soloist and in the company ofmany first rate acoustic players, foremost among them fid-dler Byron Berline and banjoist John Hickman, with whomDan has performed in groups variously labeled Sundance,Berline, Crary & Hickman, and California. “I love the expe-riences I’ve had and the music I’ve played,” Dan has said,“but I’m never satisfied... I’m just pressing on.”

His performances in this video start with Dan’s inter-pretation of Reno & Smiley’s 1956 recording, Country BoyRock ‘n Roll. “Historically,” Dan told David McCar ty,“flatpicking starts with Don Reno’s Country Boy Rock “ nRoll and a few other people who were experimenting withthe flatpick as an alternative to Carter style picking in the1950s.” As for his imaginative interpretations of fiddle tunes,Dan contends: “Just because Limerock was thought up ona fiddle doesn’t mean it belongs only on a fiddle. That alsomeans it’s not my goal to play it exactly as it was played onthe fiddle.” He strongly urges aspiring pickers to maintainopen ears: “Guitar players who listen only to other flatpickersare digging a very deep rut for themselves,” he says.

Dan has plenty of pointers he gladly shares with any-one serious about learning. “When you’re playing solo,” hetold Hatlo, “the trick is to make the solo instrument soundas full as possible. One of the ways to do that is to leave abass string ringing as a sort of drone behind a moving partsomewhere else. A lot of times I will hit the bass string andleave my thumb down on it, freeing the other fingers to keepthe moving parts going...It’s a little unorthodox, but unor-thodoxy is okay as long as it doesn’t prevent you from do-ing something that you want to do.”

And for Dan Crary, that’s worked like a charm. “I’vealways been an unorthodox guitar player,” he told DanDaniel, “partly because I didn’t come up through the blue-grass ranks but through folk music. I came up through sit-ting on the edge of the bed and doing weirdness that only Icould understand.”

Thanks to Mary Katherine Aldin for helpwith background material.

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DOC WATSONBlack Mountain RagPeach Pickin' Time Down

In GeorgiaTONY RICE ALL STAR JAM

Nine Pound HammerCold On The ShoulderWhitewater

NORMAN BLAKE & THE RISINGFAWN STRING ENSEMBLE

Jimmy Brown The NewsboySaltyMolly Bloom

DAN CRARYCountry Boy Rock N' RollMedley: The Fishing Creek Blues/

The Blackbird/Turkey In The Straw/Bonaparte's Retreat/ArkansasTraveller

DOC WATSON & JACK LAWRENCEBye Bye BluesTennessee Stud

TONY RICE & RICKY SKAGGSWhere The Soul Of Man Never DiesMore Pretty Girls Then One

NORMAN BLAKE & THE RISING FAWN STRINGENSEMBLE

Nashville BluesMedley: The Cuckoo's

Nest/Over TheWaterfall/Opera Reel/Cherokee Shuffle

TONY RICE ALL STAR JAMFreeborn Man

DOC & MERLE WATSONMedley:Sheeps In The

Meadow/ Stoney ForkMedley: Bill Cheatham/

Salt CreekDAN CRARY

Lady's FancyBlack Mountain Rag

TONY RICE UNITThe White DoveSally Goodin

Running Time: 90 minutes • Color • Hi-Fi StereoFront Photo: Lorinda SullivanBack Photos: Tony Rice & Norman Blake by Bill Wolf;Dan Crary by Irene Young; Doc Watson & Jack Larenceby Lorinda SullivanDuplicated in SP Mode/Real Time DuplicationNationally distributed by Rounder Records,One Camp Street, Cambridge, MA 02140Representation to Music Stores by Mel Bay Publications® 2001 Vestapol Productions / A division ofStefan Grossman's Guitar Workshop Inc.

ISBN: 1-57940-900-8

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