With a couple of exceptions, the songs included here are all about the woods and waters. Mostly about camping and fishing on New River and Indian Creek with the “gang,” Hanry Hale (called Big Henry in one song), his sons and grandsons, along with a few close buddies.
The songs were ‘written’ by me, with no intent whatever to perform them in public, or to record them for general distribution. Rather, the songs were for the riverbank, and were mostly written with a particular place and event in mind. I would take a “new” song into camp just to entertain us campers, nothing more.
It follows that I didn’t sing the songs for friends, neighbors or others. Not that I guarded their privacy — that’s just the way it was. I sang them now and then at home, and I played guitar likewise: now and then. I never played guitar with another guitar player, never even knew another guitar player, so you’ll understand that my technique was alive with wrong fingering, bad habits and no finesse. I never used a pick. Never owned a capo until I was about fifty. You would agree with all this if you were to watch me play.
So, the songs are what they are — injected with memories of individual camps, thrown together in time for the upcoming roundup.
I’ve long known that when it comes to my music I have a dual personality.
There’s the formal, classical side, in and with which I remain totally engrossed as a listener and “student.” (I haven’t played oboe or sax in many years, and my “formal” singing voice is long gone, replaced rudely by COPD.)
Then there’s the country side, with the southern mountain core — with a southern mountain family, it comes naturally. Growing up in town among country folk made good sense to me.
So the country songs are a matchup with the times in the woods and on the waters, embellished by the ever-present train whistle. Have a listen.