My friend Ray once told me, "You are fortunate in your life, if you have one true friend." He was generous and free with his wisdom and his music too. Ray set my life on a trajectory of old songs and stories, and introduced me to the joys of learning music from a dear friend. I've wanted for some time to record an album in honor of all of the wonderful mentors I've been blessed to know in my life. Initially I planned to focus on only traditional songs and tunes, but I included one of my original songs, “Living History,” in order to acknowledge the many gardening mentors I have had on my journey as an heirloom seed (and song) saver. In particular, I'd like to thank Ray Dellinger, Bobby McMillon, Bruce Greene, Alan Jabbour, David Brewin, Mike McKee, Luther Jones, and Brett Riggs (and you too Pan) for taking the time to answer my incessant questions, support my interests, and sing me old songs.

Darlin Cora (Fiddle DDAD)
Many of the tracks on this album are pieces that I learned from Bobby McMillon (1951-2021). Bobby was a treasure in every sense of the word. His sharp and creative mind was crammed full of old folks songs, ballads, stories, and sayings. In the vast sea of songs he knew, this was one of my very favorites, and I remember him singing it in Charlottesville one night after a house concert there. "Darlin Cora" is a widely known banjo song, but Bobby's version, learned from his Great Aunt Mae Phillips in Cocke County Tennessee, is more like a lonesome dirge. I was instantly smitten with it, and found that it fell very naturally into the old DDAD tuning used for "Midnight on the Water," "Reuben," and "Bonaparte's Retreat." Bobby thought it was odd that Mae sang "Cora" as it is written, and not "Corie," as she would have typically pronounced words ending in "a." I suspect that may be some sort of clue as to where she learned the song, but I doubt we will ever uncover more about the mystery of where she heard this beautiful version.

I Used to Wear My Apron Low
In 2019 I was privileged to get to learn from Bobby McMillon through the SouthArts In These Mountains: Folklife Apprenticeship grant. It's a terrifically important new program that pairs an apprentice with a master practitioner of folklife. In Bobby's case I was learning old ballads, folk songs, stories, and other relevant things. One day I had an idea to just ask Bobby point blank, "Well Bobby, what song would you like me to learn?" He didn't ponder on it much before leaning back against his recliner, closing his eyes, and singing this one--which he learned from his great aunt, May "Maw Maw" Phillips. I added the piedmont blues-ish accompaniment.

John Henry
I learned this version of "John Henry" from Wayne Ledford of Glenn Ayre, NC. His brother Steve was a well known fiddler in the 30's. Ray Dellinger sang essentially the same version. Even in his nineties, Wayne was still a great old-time guitarist. I'll never forget him saying, "Judge Judy, she's sharp enough to stick in the ground, and green enough to root!" Wayne was very careful to show me John Henry on the guitar, with an ambiguous sounding one-finger minor chord. I was amused that he called this the Old Way of playing John Henry, and that the Carter Family played it the new way. The real-life story of John Henry is tragic and complex--a tale of Jim Crow laws, forced convict-lease labor, silicosis: It deserves a liner-book, not a liner-note. The line about carrying John Henry to the White House I actually learned from Peter Rowan one night at the old Cataloochee Ranch when we were sitting around swapping old songs. He explained that the "White House" line actually referred to a tuberculosis hospital. It's hard to know how many people diagnosed with "consumption" were actually showing symptoms of silicosis--from breathing in rock dust in mining, road-building, industry and other tasks that kicked up clouds of particulate matter. Notably, all of the singers I heard in Mitchell County did not sing lines about "beating a steam drill," so I never learned them. Later I did a fairly exhaustive search of versions of John Henry by black performers, and found that none of them mentioned beating the steam drill. I suspect that white southern singers in the post civil war era latched onto the metaphor of the old ways fighting a valiant so-called "lost cause" fight against the might of industrial progress--whereas black performers, aware of the reality of being unjustly incarcerated and placed on deadly chain gangs for trumped up petty crimes, would have found little to celebrate in being worked to death building a road. Many convict lease laborers did die building the Swannanoa and Cowee Tunnels, or at Hawks Nest in West Virginia. We are dimly aware of those stories because of the large numbers of people that died, but railroad lines across the south are lined with the graves of the laborers that built them. The last line of the lyric Peter sang really says it all: "and every time a freight train passed by, it's yonder lies a steel-driving man."

Greenwood Sidee
When I started learning this version of "the Cruel Mother" (Child 20) a few years ago, I had no idea that it would become so current, in light of Roe vs. Wade being overturned. Infanticide was practiced all over the world--whether it was leaving "changeling" babies (probably less the work faeries and more genetic disabilities) out on the midden heap at night or female children being killed after they were born to ensure male heirs--I try not to pass too much judgement on people living on the edge of survival when they take drastic and violent measures. From the relative comfort of the 21st century, where we pawn off all of our personal violence to slaughterhouses (we don't have to go wring a chicken's neck for supper), it is important that we remember how removed most of us are from the daily acts of violence that are "out of sight and out of mind." This is one that Bobby sang, and the lyrics and tune are mostly from his wife Joyce's people. They had another tune for it in the family, according to Bobby, but he couldn't remember it or where the recording was. Hopefully it will turn up as we begin digitizing his tapes and reels.

Living History
I've written a number of "ethnobotanical songs." Most of them are humorous and light-hearted, but I took a different track with this one. It's a song of true stories. Multiple people told me about tommytoes (cherry tomatoes) bearing fruit until a killing frost--sometimes they'd even pick them out of the snow. Nowadays diseases, particularly late-blight, make this unlikely. I've grown out tomato and bean seeds that had really been frozen for 30-40 years. Bryson Farm Supply in Sylva, still sells old local tomato varieties that were long frozen in the back of old freezers. I wanted to capture the feeling I get when I walk through my garden of heirloom mountain plants--all collected from people--not catalogs. Each tendriling bean plant, and strung up tomato, sprawling candyroaster has a face and a story behind it. It makes my garden a sacred memoryscape--as much as anything, that's what I want to pass on to people. I have the same relationship with tunes and songs--the ones I treasure most are not the most catchy or profound or unique. I most value the songs I learned from friends. Everytime I play those pieces, the music transports me to dance halls, car rides, front porches, and living rooms.

Forks of the Cumberland (Fiddle GDGD)
I learned this beautiful old solo fiddle tune from Bruce Greene. It's easily one of my favorite pieces to play at home--It has many twists and turns and takes a good bit of focus to really get the strings to "ring" right. (even on this recording they aren't ringing like I want) Bruce is a master of subtle but deceptively difficult bowing and tricky left hand techniques. I don't make any claim to be able to play it like Bruce, despite the many hours in my life I spent trying to capture his thoughtful and elusive playing! One day I told him I just couldn't do it, and he smiled and replied in his gentle way, "William, all the old people told me, 'do what comes natural." I am very grateful for all of the music, but especially the wisdom that Bruce and his partner Loy have shared with me over the years. This tune comes from the Hamblen Collection manuscript under the title "Three Forks of Cumberland." Most folks "hoedown it up," but I much prefer the meandering way it is presented here. There are plenty of great hoedowns, no sense in straightening out a perfectly good and crooked road!

Wild Bill Jones (Fiddle GDGD)
I did some research to attempt to track down a "real life" William Jones who had been murdered at the age of "23" or "21" (singers differ), but the effort bore no fruit. Jones is one of the most common surnames in the U.S., and likewise, William was a very common name. Wild Bill is fairly well known now, but most versions stem from one or two influential recordings. This version, also from Bobby's great aunt Mae "Maw Maw" Phillips, is set to a waltz-time rather than the more upbeat 2/4 time it's typically played in. Viney Norton provided a version with different text but a similar tune for Cecil Sharp. Additionally, Bobby recalled hearing Byard Ray perform "Wild Bill Jones" to almost the same tune. There's an unusual section where the song goes to the chorus melody and breaks up the A B A B pattern. Bobby actually came across a lyric from another obscure version that fits in between there, but I preferred to do the song the same way as Maw Maw and Bobby. In case you want to learn this version (and I hope you do), and feel like there should be another verse before the "He reeled, he rocked" verse--here is the lyric:

Wild Bill Jones was a very bad man
He carried two pistols every day
I beat him to mine, and killed him in time
and I blowed that boy away

Georgie
This old ballad (Child 209), might just be my favorite. It's a "collated text" Bobby put together from more than one source--though I lyrically it's mostly from Doc Watson's father-in-law Gaither Carlton. The tune, as I remember, was from a Virginia ballad singer. Bobby was an expert at ballad reconstruction. Like a genius antique restorer, he could build back to something whole and beautiful from fragments. That's *not* something to be done without careful consideration, and considerable skill and knowledge, and Bobby had dedicated his life to these songs. I love the way Bobby hang on some of the words and then dropped down like on the word "I" in the first verse in the line "I thought that I heard some pretty fair maid." It's actually a bit of a tricky thing to do. In some versions Georgie is actually freed by the king--but this is not one of those versions....

Jimmy Ransome
Bobby learned this version of Lord Randall (Child 12) from Lou Brookshire in Caldwell County's King's Creek. "Aunt" Lou and her husband were born and raised in Caldwell, but like many families in the South (including Bobby's own) the Brookshires moved out to the West Coast for work. Lou's family's time out west, cutting hair in labor camps, might account for her sometimes unique repertoire of tunes and songs. This one, though, closely mirrors a version sang by another singer Bobby recorded in King's Creek: Tom Maltba. He would sing "A-courtin and A-sportin" or sometimes "Rambling and A-gambling" rather than "I've been to the wildwood." Lou Brookshire did not always remember very many lines to the old songs, but her tunes for the old ballads were often my favorite. There are still several from her repertoire that I hope to commit to memory. One last note, I did slow down this song and let it "breathe" a little more than the way Bobby sang it to me over the telephone.

Young Emily
I'll never forget hearing Bobby sing this old Madison County version of "Edwin” or “The Driver Boy.” I had taken him over to my friend Bob Alsup's cabin outside of Winston-Salem for a little supper and sing. There, in the little one-room building lovingly cobbled together from two old hewn-log tobacco barns, Bobby sang us a number of old songs. He later taught me two other verses, but I found that I preferred to sing it the way I had first heard it. He always said, "I can just see that so clearly, the verse about his 'body in a gentle motion.' the fish a-peckin out his eyeballs." From what I understand, Edmund is ultimately murdered for his gold by Emily's parents, but that raises a lot of questions for me. Emily warns him not to divulge his name or occupation, which makes me think this might not have been the first time they murdered a sailor with gold in his pockets.

The Bluebells of Scotland
I learned this classic Scottish song from Luther Jones, my old shop professor at WCU. Luther used to regale me with fascinating stories while we worked or at our lunch breaks. When I first applied to work in the scenic shop, he asked me to "bring something in to show me what you can do," and I brought a crude fiddle I had made from scratch.. I got the job! Luther (who happened to be a great harmonica player) was very encouraging of my interest in old-time music and regional history. His grandmother, who was from one of the most Scottish parts of NC (and the country) used to sing the song in dialect. He was careful to tell me how things should be pronounced in brogue. I tried to find a sweet spot between honoring the accent while also not overdoing it. No need to put on airs while I am singing an air.