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  • Johnny Majors, a legendary college football player and coach, has died, the University of Pittsburgh announced Wednesday. He was 85.
    "There were no arguments, those were ass chewings....."
    Nick Saban 9/10/2016

    “I don’t know who is driving all this stuff, but to me it’s kind of like mouse manure when you’re up to your ears in elephant doo-doo,"
    Nick Saban 05/29/2018

    “You’re ruining the game with RPOs and illegal guys downfield. And you think it should be legal. You think it’s normal. Kiss my ass.”
    Nick Saban 06/13/2018

    Comment


    • I can’t read QQB’s post from my phone, guessing he noted Johnny Major’s passing. Bobby Bowden, Lou Holtz, Bill Curry and John Robinson better watch out.


      Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

      Comment


      • Originally posted by It Takes Eleven View Post
        I can’t read QQB’s post from my phone, guessing he noted Johnny Major’s passing. Bobby Bowden, Lou Holtz, Bill Curry and John Robinson better watch out.


        Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
        Yep. The domino effect.
        Reporter: "What's it like to Have a QB like Tua throwing to you?
        Smitty: "It's a blessin' "

        Comment


        • Bilbo Baggins died today

          Comment


          • Carl Reiner dead at 98

            Comment


            • He was a goodun’
              "There were no arguments, those were ass chewings....."
              Nick Saban 9/10/2016

              “I don’t know who is driving all this stuff, but to me it’s kind of like mouse manure when you’re up to your ears in elephant doo-doo,"
              Nick Saban 05/29/2018

              “You’re ruining the game with RPOs and illegal guys downfield. And you think it should be legal. You think it’s normal. Kiss my ass.”
              Nick Saban 06/13/2018

              Comment


              • Now if 'Meathead' would just follow.
                Reporter: "What's it like to Have a QB like Tua throwing to you?
                Smitty: "It's a blessin' "

                Comment


                • Johnny Mandel, who wrote the theme for "Mash", dead at 94.
                  Reporter: "What's it like to Have a QB like Tua throwing to you?
                  Smitty: "It's a blessin' "

                  Comment


                  • Hugh Downs.

                    Comment


                    • Originally posted by It Takes Eleven View Post
                      Hugh Downs.
                      He was still alive til now? He must've been 114.
                      Reporter: "What's it like to Have a QB like Tua throwing to you?
                      Smitty: "It's a blessin' "

                      Comment


                      • Originally posted by 2Stater View Post

                        He was still alive til now? He must've been 114.
                        No, he was just 99.

                        Comment


                        • Charlie Daniels died of a stroke. 86 years old.

                          Comment


                          • Guess the Woolly Swamp got him
                            "There were no arguments, those were ass chewings....."
                            Nick Saban 9/10/2016

                            “I don’t know who is driving all this stuff, but to me it’s kind of like mouse manure when you’re up to your ears in elephant doo-doo,"
                            Nick Saban 05/29/2018

                            “You’re ruining the game with RPOs and illegal guys downfield. And you think it should be legal. You think it’s normal. Kiss my ass.”
                            Nick Saban 06/13/2018

                            Comment


                            • Originally posted by RhinoGuy View Post
                              Charlie Daniels died of a stroke. 86 years old.
                              Man, what a great music story. There's series of articles in the Wall Street Journal that's "Anatomy of a Song" and gives the background on how a song came into being. The Devil Went Down to Georgia article from a few years ago was particularly good. The author gathered a number of them together and published a book, I believe of the same name.


                              ANATOMY OF A SONG

                              The Story Behind ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’

                              How Charlie Daniels wrote the Grammy-winning duel between the devil and a fiddler named Johnny

                              By Marc Myers
                              Updated Oct. 16, 2017 11:28 am ET

                              By the late 1970s, Southern rock appealed to a national audience as more bands played the blues and featured electric guitars. In May 1979, the Charlie Daniels Band added a rural twist with the release of “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.”

                              The single, with Mr. Daniels’s searing fiddle and hoedown feel, climbed to #1 on the country chart and peaked at #3 on Billboard’s pop chart, winning a Grammy for best country vocal by a group.

                              Recently, Mr. Daniels, the band’s 80-year-old founder, fiddler, guitarist and lead vocalist—and the song’s co-writer—looked back on the group’s biggest hit. His memoir, “Never Look at the Empty Seats” (Thomas Nelson), will be published Oct. 24. Edited from an interview.

                              Charlie Daniels: In late 1978, we were pretty far along recording songs for our 10th album, “Million Mile Reflections.” We were at Nashville’s Woodland Sound Studios—a good choice by our new producer, John Boylan, given how loud the six of us played.

                              Even more important, John brought along an ingenious Los Angeles engineer named Paul Grupp. He miked us in a way that cleanly captured all our energy and sound.
                              Charlie Daniels, in red shirt, and members of his band after being honored at the 1980 Grammy Awards in Los Angeles.

                              PHOTO: MICHAEL PUTLAND/GETTY IMAGES
                              John was big on the details. In November ‘78, just as we finished recording most of the new album, John noticed we were missing a fiddle song. We traditionally included at least one on each album.

                              So our road crew moved our gear out of Woodland and into rehearsal space at Nashville’s Studio Instrument Rentals.

                              Fiddle songs were important to me and to our fans. They were a bridge from hard rock to our bluegrass roots. People think I came to rock in the late 1960s, but the truth is I’ve been playing rock since it started in the mid-1950s.

                              I started on the fiddle even earlier. I never took fiddle lessons as a child. In fact, I never took lessons on anything. I learned to play by ear. To learn the basics, I listened to anybody who could play three more notes than me.

                              In high school, one of the kids said my fiddle playing sounded as if someone had stepped on a cat. So you can imagine what my parents went through while I was learning.

                              Despite my rough start, I was stubborn. I’d listen to records by bluegrass greats like Tommy Jackson, Dale Potter and Benny Martin, and try to imitate them.

                              Back then, there were fiddler conventions that really were talent contests. Prizes went to the best bands and players. The first two conventions I played in I won. Heck, I was as surprised as anyone.

                              When I began my career as a professional fiddler and guitarist in North Carolina in the early 1950s, I played country music, like everyone else down there.

                              Then one day in 1955, a steel-guitar player came to Gulf, N.C., and asked to play with the band I was in. He didn’t have an amplifier, so I took him down to our local music store and cosigned one for him.

                              A few months later, he skipped town and left me with the amp and a bunch of payments. I had nothing to play on the amp.

                              That’s when I decided to buy a Gibson electric guitar and start a rock ’n’ roll band. I quit playing fiddle, since it didn’t really fit in.

                              For the next 13 years, I played in clubs all over the country. We played cover versions of hits—everything from Marty Robbins to Little Richard.

                              For a few years in the late 1960s, I was a studio musician and producer in Nashville. By 1971, I began recording my own songs and incorporating a little bit of everything. When we began playing hard rock, I added the fiddle back in.

                              I had laid the fiddle down because it didn’t fit into dance music we were paid to play. Ain’t no fiddle in James Brown (laughs). When I added it back, rather than write music for the fiddle, I used it where we had the guitar stuff.

                              My style of fiddle playing worked perfectly there. When I drew my bow, I tended to press down hard on the strings. That made the fiddle sound grittier. Once I saw the audience response, I wrote more songs with the fiddle in mind.

                              In late ’78, once our gear was moved out of Woodland and into our rehearsal space, we all just started jamming to come up with a song. We didn’t have a title yet.

                              The song’s inspiration had nothing to do with Vassar Clements’s “Lonesome Fiddle Blues” (1972), as some people have claimed. The music for “Devil” was all stuff we came up with totally on our own. Vassar is one of my favorite fiddle players, but there was no correlation between the two songs.



                              As soon as we knew what we wanted to do with the music, we moved back to Woodland and recorded the basic instrumental track.

                              That’s how we often worked. The band and I would write the music for a song without ever having a title. Right down to the arrangement, the instrumental breaks and everything—without a single word.

                              With the basic instrumental track set for “Devil,” I went home and wrote the song’s words. I like to write late at night or early in the morning, when everything is quiet and I can lay there relaxed.

                              I’ve always had the ability to remember the music we recorded as if it’s on a tape loop in my head. The phrase “the devil went down to Georgia” just popped into my head for the opening line.

                              I love the way “Georgia” sounds. It’s so poetic. It wouldn’t be the same if it were “The Devil Went Down to New Hampshire, New York or Tennessee” (laughs).

                              The inspiration for my lyric was Stephen Vincent Benét’s 1925 poem, “The Mountain Whippoorwill.” I first read the poem in high school and it stuck with me.

                              It’s about a boy who grows up in Georgia’s mountains playing his fiddle as free as a whippoorwill’s call. He winds up in a fiddle contest and wins by playing from the heart.

                              Fired up by Benét’s poem, I wrote a lyric about a kid named Johnny who was a great fiddler. But I needed something more exciting than an ordinary contest. The stakes had to be higher.

                              So I had the Devil go down to Georgia to challenge Johnny. If Johnny won, he’d get the Devil’s gold fiddle. But if he lost, the Devil would get his soul. Johnny accepts the challenge.



                              After my verse explaining all of that, I wrote a chorus lyric: “Fire on the mountain, run boys run /the Devil’s in the house of the rising sun / Chicken in the bread pan pickin’ out dough / ‘Granny does your dog bite?’ ‘No, child, no.’”

                              Those are old square-dance refrains. I used to play square dances when I started out in North Carolina.

                              In my lyric, Johnny wins the contest, and the Devil bows his head and puts his golden fiddle on the ground at Johnny’s feet.

                              The next day, I brought in my lyric sheet to Woodland and overdubbed my vocal with the band singing the harmony parts. Then I had to record the two fiddle solos.

                              For the Devil’s solo, I played all kinds of junk to illustrate his soullessness. I made the fiddle solo all fury and noise, without melody or poetry.

                              After I finished, Paul, our engineer, had me put on headphones and overdub six more fiddle tracks to illustrate the Devil’s “band of demons.” On one of those tracks, I used an eight-string fiddle, which is strung like a mandolin, with two strings in place of one.

                              Then Paul and John brought all seven tracks together as one cohesive solo. When they mixed it, the Devil’s solo had a wider, angry sound. I was amazed. I had never worked like that before in the studio.

                              We also overdubbed an evil, devilish hiss. That was keyboardist Joel “Taz” DiGregorio’s idea. He ran a guitar pick across the strings of the studio’s acoustic piano. Next, I recorded Johnny’s fiddle solo, which is earthier and more melodic than the Devil’s—more like those hoedowns in North Carolina.

                              After “Devil” was released and became a big hit, someone told me that classical violinist Itzhak Perlman was trying reach me. I said, “What?”

                              When I called him back, Mr. Perlman said, “I just want you to know that my children and myself are fans of yours.” He finished by saying, “I’d like to do something with you sometime.”

                              When I got off the phone, I stood there as if someone had hit me in the face with a cold mullet. I couldn’t fathom how he knew who I was. And if he did, I just assumed he would have said to himself, “My gosh, listen to this guy. He’s horrible.”

                              We run in different circles, so we never got a chance to do that. But the fact that he even knew who I was shocked me to the bone. As far as I’m concerned, Mr. Perlman is the best fiddle player there is.

                              Comment


                              • Haha.
                                "I stood there as if someone had hit me in the face with a cold mullet"

                                Charlie was interviewed on Finebaum a few years back. I remember it as being a pretty good interview.

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