A great article in todays Sunday Times on Tony Rice which struck me personally. I had the privilege of meeting Tony when I was about 20 years old. It was backstage at a small pub in Maine called Raouls. At the time, I was a music critic with the Boston Globe. My buddy John Williams and I walked in, and there he was, sitting on a couch, smiling. In our eyes, at that time in our lives, he was GOD. A bluegrass legend. The Clint Eastwood of Guitar. And there he was, in front of us, in great spirits, introducing us to his new fiance Pamela, (She was as gracious as she sounds in this article) and to his younger brother and bandmate, Wyatt. Tony offered us one Moosehead beer after the other, and the whole time, I was very aware that his famed 1935 D-28 Martin Guitar (see article) was inches away from me, lying in state, in it coffin-like case. John kept whispering in my ear Ask him if you can play it, to which I quickly whispered back, No way in hell. It was just one of those moments you never forget.Tony was self-depreciating, funny, and just a true Southern gentleman. No matter how many days on earth he has left, he will live on forever.
Posted on: Mon, 17 Feb 2014 04:24:24 +0000
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