More than 90 years ago, this was one of the last tunes recorded by our great hokum heroes Georgia Tom and Tampa Red.
But while Tom and Red decided to go their separate ways in 1932, their songs just roll on and on. Here’s one of our favorites.
Occasional ramblings of The 1937 Flood, West Virginia's most eclectic string band!
More than 90 years ago, this was one of the last tunes recorded by our great hokum heroes Georgia Tom and Tampa Red.
We have a new old saying around here: When it doubt, let Danny do it!
The sing-along — “if you know it, sing it!” as we say around here — is fundamental to folk music.
As the folk music guiding spirit, Pete Seeger, once said, “I rather put songs on people’s lips than in their ears.”
Danny Cox and Randy Hamilton brought us this tune a year or so ago and as it matures, it just keeps enriching The Flood’s bloodstream.
Honestly, we don’t remember when we first started doing this song. It was back when we were youngsters at those good old folk music parties in the ‘60s.
A decade later, the tune was firmly entrenched when The Flood came together. And we were still playing it in 2001 when we recorded our first album, on which it’s the closing track.
Newcomers here were surprised by last week’s podcast, which celebrated native West Virginians who became legendary jazzmen. “I’m sorry,” one of them said, “but to me the idea of West Virginia conjures up fiddles and banjos. I’ve never thought of it for jazz.”
He’s forgiven for not realizing the diversity of the Mountain State’s musical tradition. For instance, this is the 100th birthday of the greatest jazz standards of all times, and it was written by Bluefield, WV, native son, Maceo Pinkard. Yes, she might have been a Georgia peach, but our Miss Brown was a West Virginia girl at heart!
Joining The Flood repertoire, some songs fit in right away, while others — like this 90-year-old Don Redmond classic — take a little time to settle in, but when they do, wow — they’re as comfortable as an old shoe.
Our latest iteration of this song has been eight years in the making.
Randy Hamilton brought it to us in the spring of 2017 and had already worked out the basic arrangement in his head, but it took a while to get the instrumentation right.
For instance, Jack Nuckols, whose drumming is so fundamental this track, didn’t arrive until a couple of years ago, about the same time that I began learning a bit of banjo.
A lot of ghosts stalk our rehearsal room nowadays, but to a man they are a happy bunch of haunts.
And we have table set aside for photos of all of our old band mates who have passed on. But more than mere pictures, it’s their music that keeps our old comrades alive.
Danny Cox and Randy Hamilton do some serious gold mining in this old sweet song.
“The Andy Griffith Show” was always at its best when the music-loving Darling family rolled into town. Now, The Darlings were played for the real-life Ozark band, The Dillards. Here from last week’s rehearsal is Randy Hamilton leading us on our take of the Dillards’ greatest tune.
We first recorded this tune nearly a quarter of a century ago, a good old blues written in the 1930s by a Kentuckian named Teddy Darby.
Here’s a song that was born at jam sessions, with an infectious rhythm and a couple of funky chords that invite all kinds of improvisation.
For your Friday Flood fix, here’s a tune we all grew up hearing, Grandpa Jones’s theme song: “Eight More Miles to Louisville.” In this take from this week’s rehearsal, Randy Hamilton sings the lead and we all join in on the choruses.
George Gershwin’s “Lady Be Good” has been in The Flood repertoire for nearly a quarter century, aut lately it’s taken on a new life ever since Danny Cox brought around a better bunch of chords. Listen to Dan and the guys just rocking the socks off the thing!
This old tune from the mid-1960s hadn’t been played in The Flood band room in more than a decade or so, but when it dropped in at last week’s rehearsal, it fit the moment as comfortably as a good old shoe.
You know when you’re driving in your car and surfing the stations on your radio, each one offering something bright and different.
There are few sure things nowadays, but one thing we can guarantee is that somewhere in the Mountain State this song is being sung, whistled, hummed or at least thought of about every 15 minutes today. Happy West Virginia Day, y’all!
We just barely had a quorum on this particular evening — Sam and Jack were still on vacation — but Danny, Randy and Charlie held down the fort and, as we say around here, whenever three or more gather in its name, it’s The Flood.
It’s kinda hard to get a quorum in the band room when summer travel season rolls around. In fact, it’s been three weeks now since all five of us have been together.
Here, from that session, was our bon voyage to each other.
The Flood has gone fully folkie on this one. Jack has switched from his snare and brushes to his fiddle and Charlie’s on the five-string.
Here’s our take on an artifact from the Cold War, a Russian melody that we learned when it made its debut on American radios in the 1960s.
There are a lot of train songs out there, but none of them will take us quite as far as this one. Come with us to where the Southern’ll cross the Yellow Dog!
Around here, the best night of the week is whatever night we’re all getting together to pick. Everyone always comes in the room ready to rock. But some nights? Well, those night swing even more than usual.
Last week, for instance, Danny Cox seemed to have a whole barrel of new riffs to try out on his guitar, and Jack Nuckols was absolutely cooking on his snare and high-hat.
Shoot, you can probably hear Charlie Bowen grinning while he's singing.
Charlie first heard this centuries-old fiddle tune 50 years ago when an old friend Jim Strother played it with our favorite local string band, the good old Kentucky Foothill Ramblers.
He couldn’t imagined The Flood ever playing it. However, a year or so ago, when he started studying the five-string banjo, the same old tune came rolling back in his brain.
We learned this great West Virginia tribute song in the 1970s, just a few years after Bruce Phillips wrote it. That’s because some of our local heroes — H. David Holbrook’s late great Kentucky Foothill Ramblers — started singing it at those parties where The Flood was born.
The Flood first started fooling around jug band tunes nearly 50 Springs ago, when the band was still a youngster. Before that, the guys played mainly old folk songs and some Bob Dylan and John Prine and a smattering of radio tunes from folks like James Taylor and The Eagles.
But then they discovered some fine old recordings by Tampa Red and Georgia Tom, by groups like the Mississippi Sheiks and Gus Cannon’s Jug Stompers, and most especially the great Memphis Jug Band.
Michelle Hoge brought us this song about a decade ago. It immediately found a place on the next album we were working on and it became a standard feature in most of our shows.
At last week’s rehearsal, the first take on this tune was slow and bit lifeless, but then Randy Hamilton said, “Let’s try it again,” and kicked it up into a new gear.
The word “evergreen” has a special meaning in our band room. It means a tune that’s timeless. Like this Tom Paxton classic. It is 60 years old, but it feels it could have been written last week — or a century ago.
We still remember the night Joe Dobbs wandered into The Flood band room a couple of decades ago and said, “Hey, do you know the song ‘Satin Doll’? Boy, was he asking the right guy.
Charlie Bowen grew up in a home full of jazz records by Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington, Count Basie and Harry James. In BowenWorld, “Satin Doll” was as much a part of the household soundtrack and anything on the radio.
Now, we don’t think Joe really cared about the song’s honored status in the jazz world. But he was tickled by a folksy rendition of it he had just heard by fiddler Stephane Grappelli and David Grisman and was eager to bring the tune into the Flood repertoire.
The Flood has always celebrated diversity. We often follow at folk blues with a swing tune or chase a 1950s jazz standard with some 1920s jug band stuff.
This bit of fluff from Bob Dylan’s “Nashville Skyline” album more than a half century ago is one of his least-recorded song, but The Flood has always enjoyed playing it over the decades.
We’re channelling 1966 with this tune. It’s our take on the first track of the third album by the late great Lovin’ Spoonful!
If your mother (or grandma or maybe your great-grandmother) was a Bobby-soxer in the 1940s, she probably danced to this song.
In the Floodisphere,we’ve found that “Opus One” is wonderful way to warm up for an evening of tunes.
For the past month, the world has been fascinated by a new movie about a 20-year-old with a head full of ideas rolling in from the North Country into New York City in the 1960s and changing music forever.
All kinds of stories are told at the weekly rehearsals. Some are shared for laughs. Others are merely melodies and improvisations. Some come with pictures. And some — like this one — are the tales that are many times older than all of us.
When Dave Peyton and Charlie were just starting out as a duo in the early 1970s, they discovered that on this tune, a repeated scale descending from an opening minor chord resonated nicely on the guitar-Autoharp accompaniment to their voices.
Often the first notes of the evening set the pace, the mood and the tone for the entire rehearsal.
Now, we’ve been doing this great old 1920s jazz standard for only a couple of years, but it’s already become one of our go-to tunes for a good time, especially whenever Dan’s got new musical ideas to explore.
When the whole band can’t get together — like last week, when it was just Danny, Randy and Charlie — it’s an opportunity to explore tunes not usually on the practice list.