That was my childhood.
You know, and it was, my dad played the banjo,
but never could figure out
the Scruggs style
with that three-finger roll.
He was a,
not a claw hammer player,
but more of a Pete Seeger frailer,
ding, jigga, ding, jigga, ding,
and he was a folk,
he would sing these folk songs
and play the banjo like that.
And he,
I laugh, I said,
he cussed Earl Scruggs his whole life.
He couldn't,
he'd get those books,
those records,
and he'd sit and he'd try to get it,
and he'd
just dog cuss everything about Earl Scruggs.
But,
you know, it was interesting how powerful
the sound of that instrument was.
I think,
for me, what he did for bluegrass was gave
it its greatest definition,
you know,
in its sound and in its style,
you know.
And I, you
know,
even more so,
Monroe had the songs,
the great voice,
and Lester sang,
but it was
the sound of the banjo to me that really
defines bluegrass in its purest form.
So,
finding
him to be the kind,
gentle man that he was,
was even better than how great he played.
And the times that I got to,
like you,
we'd get to go over to his house and go to the
parties and jam sessions.
And so,
yeah,
getting to collaborate with him on Foggy Mountain Breakdown
a million years later from its invention was very powerful.
I have a really neat picture
of just Earl and his banjo here at the house.
And it was,
you know,
and once again, it's
musicians that I kind of
hold the highest place for me of admiration.