Alembic Guitars Club
Connecting => Miscellaneous => Topic started by: edwardofhuncote on September 10, 2022, 04:29:21 AM
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Hershel Sizemore passed away yesterday, September 9th. Bluegrass Today, as always, did a fantastic tribute to the man's career. https://bluegrasstoday.com/herschel-sizemore-passes/
The name probably isn't familiar right away, but Hershel was unarguably one of the most influential bluegrass musicians who ever lived. And he lived about three miles away from me. I grew up playing upright bass in string bands, and being introduced to Mr. Sizemore at a very young age was a turning point that made a fun pastime into a burning passion. Once he took a liking to you, and began to take an interest in your 'education', you had no choice but to learn, and learn to play it right.
I can't tell you the exact date, but it was a hot Summer night in 1989, the Amsterdam district of Botetourt County near where I went to High School. I was invited to a garage jam out there in the country. I knew a few of the regulars who might be there, and it sounded like a good time was in store. I had no idea who Hershel Sizemore was at that point in life, had never heard of him, but he was supposed to be there, and supposedly was a great mandolin picker from wayback, sideman to practically everybody. Okay, I thought... that's a decent intro. I'd like to meet him. Maybe I can pick up a gig or two. So the jam was in full swing, I was in my element, so full of it... play anything and everything, fast and loud. One of my Dad's buddies proudly says to Hershel- "you hear that boy playin' bass over there?!" Hershel replied- "I reckon by-gawd I did... he's been beatin' that po' thang like a mule for the last hour!" I was crushed. I didn't know it yet, but he was 100% right. I had no sense yet of playing with any restraint or nuance. Over the years I would share a private backstage joke with him about that night. "Quit slappin' that thang son, it ain't done nuthin' to you!".
I was living in Nashville 1996 when Bill Monroe died, coincidentally also on September, 9th. I was standing on the sidewalk outside the Ryman Auditorium waiting to go inside for the Memorial Service, when I heard that Alabama drawl behind me, and there was a friend from home... we sat there at the funeral of the Father of Bluegrass Music together. I've got a thousand stories like that.
There's a few people who change the course of your life. He was one of those guys. Lay your mandolin down and go take your rest. We'll carry on.
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Quite the tribute there, Greg.
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He really was a giant in our lives. After being diagnosed with cancer a few years ago, as is customary among musicians, a benefit concert was organized to help Hershel and his family. Turned out he and wife Joyce would be dealing with the Big C at the same time. Our band at the time jumped at the chance to play. The event got so big, that the Roanoke Civic Center had to be sourced to host it. Before the night was over, there was a surprise appearance by the Punch Bros. Chris Thile, being the mandolin virtuoso he is, brought the whole band in, did a short set, and went back to their show across town. That how big of a guy Hershel was.
Acoustic Endeavors (band I was in full-time back then) appears briefly at 0:47 here.
Here's one of those backstage moments from that very night. I weirdly used to keep a mandolin handy back then, and that's a 1923 Gibson A-4 "snakehead" I'm playing. Hershel is talking to Lynn Morris there, another bluegrass superstar struck down early by a stroke... her husband Marshall Wilborn is a bass hero of mine to this day. Anyway, I was waiting to show off my latest prize for him... Hershel treasured Gibson mandolins made under the hand of Lloyd Loar. He'd seen this one's restoration in progress in my shop.
"Now yew know... if I had any neeeeed in this world for anudder manlin, I'd like to have me one uh them snakeheads...".
I remember like it was last weekend.
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:)