Doc Watson
March 3, 1923 – May 29, 2012
I saw Doc Watson perform so many decades ago, with his son Merle, an outdoor stage, thousands of us camped on a hillside all day being overblown and overflown with folk music. A place in the heart. You saw Doc Watson, too, I would bet; many saw Doc Watson perform, or owned his many records, always reliable and wholesome and very good. Doc Watson spoke, as a blind man, how scary the road could be for him, and still he came forth and played for us. We may as well thank our lucky stars.
One of my favorite Doc Watson moments is on the triple Nitty Gritty Dirt Band album where Doc Watson and Merle Travis meet. You can listen to the difference in the guitar masters strumming and in their voices when they talk, spontaneously, the record picking it all up. What Doc Watson says in but a few words, just like his playing, almost sums up his entire life up to that time. His sharing was seamless and expansive. And the Merle Travis chuckle and laconic humility balances the scales of the meeting. They went on to play a tune like a team of horses charging across a stream. . .
another favorite album (I'm playing it now) was this beauty titled Elementary Doctor Watson (with Merle Watson) on the tiny Poppy label. I used to watch that poppy design on the album spin on the turntable while the tunes played. . .
farewell
