On the road with the Avetts

Thursday, October 6, 2011 (updated , 2011 7:25 am)

By Carole Perkins 

 

GREENSBORO — Pete Schroth takes a break from cleaning the gutters on his Greensboro home to munch on rosemary french fries at one of his favorite local restaurants, Sticks and Stones.

Between bites, Schroth recounts his journey from his days of booking the Avett Brothers to traveling the world the past two years as the now internationally known band’s stage manager and lighting designer.

The journey began in 2004 at Schroth’s former coffee shop, the Green Bean, in Greensboro.

A few regular customers persuaded him to book the Avett Brothers. (Now, the band includes brothers Scott and Seth Avett, Bob Crawford on bass and Joe Kwon on cello.)

Schroth was hesitant to feature a band he had never before heard, but he took a chance and, for the first time in Green Bean history, sold tickets to the show.

The cost? Two dollars. Now, a ticket to an Avett Brothers’ concert can cost $25 to $38.

That night, the band played to a sell-out crowd of 99.

“The night of the show a gentleman walked up to me and said, 'Is this your place?’ ” Schroth recalls. “I said, 'Yes sir,’ to which he answered, 'Well, my boys are about to blow the doors off of it.’ “

That was Schroth’s first chat with Jim Avett, Scott and Seth’s father. Years later, it was Jim Avett who took Schroth to the airport to meet the band in Phoenix for his first gig as its stage manager.

“I was pretty excited to see what was about to happen,” Schroth recalls. “It was a crazy, insane, high-energy gig, but I missed most of it, working behind the counter serving up coffees and PBRs. It was a great night and most absolutely one of my favorite shows I have never seen.”

Decide what to be and go be it

Schroth went on to book the Avett Brothers in 2006 at his former music venue, the Flying Anvil in Greensboro, as well as twice at Greensboro’s War Memorial Auditorium in 2007 and 2008. Along the way, seeds of a desire to work for the Avett Brothers were planted in him, although he never really expected anything to come his way.

His business venture with the Flying Anvil lasted only eight or nine months before it closed. Schroth says it was a terrible blow to his confidence. He retreated to the country with his wife, Anne, and their children. He bought some goats and tried to sort things out. He worked briefly at a veterinarian’s office and as a handyman at Greensboro Montessori School.

Then one day, a phone call from Scott Avett changed the course of Schroth’s life. Avett wanted to offer him a job.

“I was caught off guard,” Schroth says. “I had a lot of questions, but Scott was incredibly gracious and patient. I couldn’t just blindly pack my bags and hop on a bus, leaving my family behind. My family is my life, and I had to be sure it was the right thing to do.”

As Schroth contemplated accepting the job, he visualized an image of a wagon belonging to him and his family and hooking it up to an Avett wagon train. With the Green Bean sold and the Flying Anvil closed, Schroth visualized his family sitting high on a hill in an old, weathered covered wagon.

“I imagined we suddenly could see a wagon train down in the valley below, and there’s lots of music and good times and a chance for a better future. I’d be a damn fool not to head down there and join up.

“So, I took my covered wagon, full of my family and my things, and headed down into that valley. That was that. Our wagons are still hitched.”

Road full of promise

A typical day before an Avett Brothers’ concert starts about 11 a.m., unloading the trailer and setting up the stage. Schroth’s wife, Anne, prints and sews the stage backdrops through her company, Red Canary.

By 3 p.m., the band does a sound check for 30 minutes or two hours, depending on the venue. Doors usually open about 7 p.m., and the band and crew gather for a quick huddle before Schroth runs to his task as lighting designer.

The show ends usually about 11 p.m. or midnight. Then another two hours are needed to break down the gear before they are back on the bus, physically exhausted but mentally exhilarated and ready for their next destination.

Schroth compares the tour bus to a submarine with a hall of beds that is dark and quiet. There are 12 bunk beds stacked three high. There’s also a front room, kitchen, dining room and bathroom. Although privacy is almost nonexistent, people may use a smaller room toward the back of the bus to get away and maybe read a book or send a few emails.

The Avett Brothers average about 90 to 100 shows per year. Schroth is on the road five to 10 days at a time, although the recent Europe and Australia tour lasted the longest at six weeks.

On Saturday, Schroth will be back on his home turf when the Avett Brothers perform to a sell-out crowd at the White Oak Amphitheatre in Greensboro.

Being on the road can take its toll. There is homesickness, long hours and tight quarters. But there’s also good music, great people and priceless moments.

The following are email excerpts Schroth sent from the road during that recent tour.

June 23

So, here we are in London, and I have thought of another oddity of being on the road. We travel in a pack of nine guys, sometimes 10. We are always together and almost always in tight spaces. On the bus, dressing rooms, hotel rooms. Our world becomes very surreal. Then suddenly we are surrounded by a big crowd of people for a few hours and then poof … we are back on the bus to the next city. We go from small and solitary to largely public very quickly.

Aug. 17

I have always been a visual artist. I cannot play a single instrument. I can whistle pretty good, but music eludes me. I watch these guys as they stand face to face and work out a brand-new song, a chord progression or even a good old-time number. The silent communication between the whole band is what leaves me dumbfounded time and time again. Then, suddenly, they are up on stage in front of hundreds of people playing a Bruce Springsteen cover, and the crowd is going crazy.

Last night in Munich, Germany, was one of those shows that made the hair on my arms stand up. Every now and again, the band and their audience become one big mass of energy. There is no separation. Each group feeds off of the other, and each group feeds the other. There is an equal exchange of energy, and something truly magical happens, something spiritual.

Cave men made music. It is one of our oldest traditions. It draws up together and makes us one. Take it all away and we can still whistle a tune.

Aug. 23

So, here I sit in a hotel room in Amsterdam. My oldest boy back home just went to karate practice, wifey is gearing up for the boys to return to school, and the young one has lost both his front teeth. It is hard to be away from home. The adrenaline of a show, the smiling faces, the crowd … it is all a trade-off. We depend oh so very much on the crowd to lift us up. We arrive exhausted, but once show time rolls around, the juices start flowing, then it’s on. The energy sparks. Tomorrow night we will all be refreshed and ready to rock out.

August 29

Looking back on all the experiences of the last three weeks touring through Europe. Truly incredible. Great energy. I think the best show for me may have been to a small Danish crowd of retirees that were somewhat trapped in a tent due to a major rain storm. I don’t know if any of them had ever heard a single Avett song, but they had a blast, and so did we. Good times.

I’m coming home ...

Back in Greensboro, Schroth never unpacks his toiletry bag but completely shifts gears into family life. Mundane tasks such as cleaning gutters or giving the cat medicine are welcome rituals. He says thoughts of his wife, kids and friends are what keeps him moving on the road.

“Throwing a baseball with the kids, having a glass of wine on the front porch with friends while the cicadas hum, all these things are mine,” Schroth says. “If all of this falls apart tomorrow, I know for certain that my wife and my kids and my friends will be there for me. I want to keep that whole.”

Contact Carole Perkins at CPGuilford@aol.com

 

Words matter most to songwriter

Thursday, June 23, 2011 (updated , 2011 3:00 am)

By Carole Perkins 

 

If you get the pleasure of seeing Jonathan Byrd perform, don’t make the mistake of complimenting his music.

With careful politeness, the tall, lean cowboy and poet will let you know he is first and foremost a songwriter over a musician or performer.

It’s the reason why The Chicago Tribune named Byrd one of the top 50 songwriters of the last 50 years alongside Bob Dylan, Judy Collins and John Prine to name a few.
His new CD, “Cackalack,” premiered at No. 1 on Roots Music Report’s folk radio chart within weeks of its release earlier this year.

Byrd is weaving his way back from a four-month tour to promote “Cackalack,” which he calls his “homeland manifesto.”

“These songs are memoirs, photos from my family album,” Byrd says. “They are songs about real, everyday places. The Outer Banks, where wild ponies still run; Rockwell, where I sang 'Amazing Grace’ to my father’s ashes; Cape Fear, the namesake of the hospital where I was born; and 95 South, a great river of humanity that brings me rolling back from a hard tour.”

The Carrboro native was surrounded by music all his life, singing Southern gospel songs in the church where his father preached and his mother played piano.
“We had a piano in the house, and Mom gave me some lessons. I did really well, but I got bored with the workbook/lesson plan style,” Byrd says. “My brother had a guitar, and that was cooler.”

His brother, Gray, gave him his first guitar lesson at age 8, and he later learned music theory in his high school jazz class. But when he got his own guitar, Byrd was hooked.

“Once I got my own guitar, I found a place to put all my teen angst, but it didn’t help my schoolwork at all,” he says. “I probably set records for non-attendance and spent a lot of time running around in the deep woods of western Orange County.”

After a four-year stint in the Navy, Byrd spent time in Virginia Beach playing in a rock band, and then moved back to Carrboro where some friends told him about Rockbridge Festival, an old-time fiddler’s convention in Buena Vista, Va. That trip became a life-changing experience.

“It changed my life, and it changed my music, just banging away on an A chord for hours at a time and sipping corn liquor,” Byrd says. “I didn’t know the songs, and I didn’t care.

“Whatever these people had a hold of, I wanted some of it. It shot straight down into my veins like lightning and made my hair stand up on end. The music was intense, lyrically cut down to the bone.”

With a determination to write songs that “sounded old not because they were old but because they were written in an old style,” Byrd wrote tunes such as “Velma,” the story of the woman who killed his grandfather . Velma was a friend of the family when Byrd’s grandmother died in 1969.

“Six months later, my grandfather, Jennings Paul Barfield, married Velma,” Byrd says. “Two years into their marriage, Velma killed with arsenic poisoning. About six years went by, and Velma poisoned her boyfriend. She eventually confessed to killing her own mother and a few more people. She was executed in 1984.”

Byrd started touring in 2000 as a solo performer, winning the North Carolina Songwriters CoOp Song Contest in Carrboro that year and the coveted New Folk Competition at the Kerrville Folk Festival in Texas in 2003.

As Byrd makes his way across the country, from camping out in the Texas hill country to meeting with publishers and managers in Nashville, Tenn., he’s looking forward to coming home. He is excited to do the simple things in his life, much like the subject matter of his songs: mowing the grass and playing with his little boy.

“It feels really great to be going home, although it doesn’t feel any closer yet,” Byrd says from the road. “I think nothing but my driveway will do.”

Contact Carole Perkins at CPGuilford@aol.com

 

With a little help from her friends

Thursday, April 14, 2011 (updated , 2011 3:00 am)

By Carole Perkins 

 

Singer and songwriter Martha Bassett has long been a respected icon of the Triad music scene with her classically trained voice, which has been described as “angelic” and “crystalline.”

This month, with the release of her fourth album, “The Goodbye Party,” Bassett gives listeners a glimpse of her personal diary with a versatile palette of songs that either send shivers down your spine or make your toes tap.

But Bassett didn’t write this diary of love and loss alone. About half of the 12 songs were written by Bassett, the rest by personal friends and band members: Sam Frazier (guitar and piano), Pat Lawrence (bass), Eddie Walker (drums) and Ben Singer (keyboards and banjo). Together, they lead a journey through the pathos of loneliness and weariness but always with the hope and comfort of coming home.

The opening track, “The Goodbye Party,” a melancholy song co-written by Bassett and Singer, sets the tone and pace for the rest of the album.

“We actually had the title to this song before we wrote it,” Bassett says. “I think of the song itself as a vignette of the idea of separation and loss. I like the chorale at the end because it creates intensity and sets up the central theme of the record.”

Bassett cranks up the mood with “Leave Me Behind,” a song loosely based on the old-time tune “Pretty Polly.” Bassett belts out the lyrics, “Show me you want me and mean it this time or pick up your heart, boy, and leave me behind.”

“It’s funny that a song with such sad lyrics always makes people tap their feet and smile,” Bassett says.

One of Bassett’s favorite songs on the album is “Whisper,” written for Bassett by her longtime collaborator Sam Frazier and arranged by Josh Weesner. A song about heartbreak and the end of a long-term relationship, Bassett found this one difficult to sing in the beginning.

“ 'Whisper’ was hard to sing at first because it was so personal, but now it’s one of my favorites,” Bassett says. “Compositionally speaking, Sam did a great job creating an arc that really lends itself to strings and brass.”

Another personally painful song that Bassett sings is “Holly Golightly,” a song about the wedding of Kelly Jo Petersen Womble, an artist and gallery/shop owner in Winston-Salem and one of the primary people responsible for revitalizing its downtown.

“Kelly had been battling cancer and died shortly after her wedding, during the recording of this disc,” Bassett says. “Clare Fader had written the words for the wedding, and Sam helped set the music for the memorial service, which is where I first sang it. It’s still very difficult to perform this song live.”

In addition to originals, Bassett sings covers from two local luminaries Bruce Piephoff and Laurelyn Dossett, managing to channel their distinctive styles into her own.

“My goal is not to establish myself as a great singer/songwriter, although I’m very much learning the craft,” she says. “My goal is to sing great songs. Every song on (the album) that wasn’t written by me was written by a personal friend. That feels good.”

Bassett and Frazier agree the difference in this album compared to her previous releases was in the production. Both cite Pat Lawrence for his artistic efforts on the album, and Bassett also credits him with having strong ideas that she says created a denser and broader palette both instrumentally and vocally.

“I’m a lucky girl,” Bassett says. “These guys are my best friends, and we work so well together creatively. It’s an unusual and precious thing, and I don’t ever take it for granted.”

Contact Carole Perkins at CPGuilford@aol.com

 

Trinkets Create Links to Past

Thursday, March 10, 2011 (updated , 2011 3:01 am)

By Carole Perkins 

 

GREENSBORO — Janice Young carefully plucks trinkets, charms and odd earrings from a box of vintage jewelry hauled down from a dusty attic. With a well-trained eye, she groups the pieces into piles that she’ll later use to create bracelets, adorned with keepsakes and tokens from the past.

It’s her way of preserving memories because, as Young discovered, sometimes a memory is all you have left of a loved one.

In 2004, Young’s oldest son, Deebs, was killed in a car accident while on a roller hockey trip in Georgia. Deebs was a superb athlete, gifted with intelligence and multitudes of friends. He was 15.

That tragedy motivated Young to begin collecting mementos for her children.

“I started gathering things that were meaningful, like the jewelry Don (her husband) gave me when each child was born,” says Young of Greensboro. “I collected game pieces from the game Monopoly that we used to play as a family and jewelry from my parents and grandparents. I thought it was important for Sloan and Kemp (her children) to have tangible memories of people important to them.”

When Deebs died, Young wanted to honor the people who helped her family cope with their loss. So about two years ago, she started making necklaces and bracelets from her own collection of keepsakes, as well as trinkets or vintage jewelry pieces from her customers. The styles of bracelets range from chunky and elaborate to simple and elegant. Young puts a new spin on traditional charm bracelets by using watch chains or strands of chain belonging to the customer. Making them has been a positive outlet for her.

“The bending of the metal, sanding rough edges, finding the right balance of charms is very therapeutic to me,” she says. “I like knowing that people will enjoy wearing these bracelets that represent events and loved ones that have been meaningful in their lives.”

For her own bracelets, Young likes to group items in threes to symbolize her children, sometimes using old buttons and typewriter keys with letters to indicate the initials. She often wears a necklace she designed using old watch chains hooked together to make a lariat. She has a locket from her grandmother, engraved with the letter “S” for Sloan, a mother-of-pearl pin with the letter “K” from her grandfather Kemp, three small rings from Don’s grandmother and an angel symbolizing Deebs.

Young says it’s common for people to have collections of vintage jewelry that they never wear. But her bracelets give these pieces new purpose.

“It’s sad because people don’t wear their family jewelry because it sits in a box,” she says. “I can take an old clip–on earring and convert it into pierced (earring) or use it as a charm or drill a hole into a piece so it will hang.”

After Deebs’ death, Young continued to experience losses and challenges. Three months after Deebs died, she learned she had Stage 3 breast cancer. Six months after Deebs died, Young lost one of her closest friends. Nine months after that, Sloan lost her best friend to a brain tumor.

“There were so many losses and people who just seemed to slip away. It made me acutely aware of how important it is to make memories of people you love,” Young says. “The fact that Deebs died made it important for me to hold onto memories, but I think it’s important for everyone to keep their memories, too.”

Contact Carole Perkins at CPGuilford@aol.com

 

Uncommon Folk, Our State Magazine

October 2010
By: Carole Perkins

Songs of Water combines multicultural sounds and anchors them in North Carolina’s rich musical traditions.

Stephen Roach pulls bells, whistles, and noisemakers from a green suitcase propped atop a chair on a small stage at The Green Bean, a coffee house in downtown Greensboro. Grabbing his djembe, he pounds his hands in a primitive rhythm. Drummer Michael Pritchard answers with a polyrhythmic beat. Pound, beat. Pound, beat. Pound, beat. The audience grows restless with anticipation.

I scrape my chair back for the third time to make room for the burgeoning crowd until I’m almost sitting in the lap of Laura Galloway, a self-professed groupie who travels all over North Carolina to hear Roach’s band, Songs of Water.

“I think I’m addicted to their new CD,” I tell Galloway. “I have to listen to it every day.”

“I know; me, too,” she says, relieved to know another woman of a seasoned age shares her obsession.

Finally, classically trained violinist Marta Richardson adds her elegant strings to the pounding beat as Roach teases the hungry crowd.

“Are you ready to take off?” Roach asks. “All right, let’s see what happens.”

The band and the audience share a tangible bond. The musicians prefer playing to hometown crowds, basking in the love and support of family and friends. It feels right to give back to a community that offered support for so many years, Richardson says. “It’s a mutual understanding that we belong together, that we come from the same place and are on a journey together.”
Musical experiment

Songs of Water began about eight years ago as Roach’s vision to take traditional, multicultural sounds and combine them in an American, experimental fashion. He took his idea to friend and co-writer Jason Windsor. The two began collaborating and then invited Richardson to come on board. Richardson and Charlotte cellist Sarah Stephen bring sophistication to the folksy sound with their talent on the strings. Pritchard’s rhythm strikes a middle ground between tradition and innovation, while bass and guitar player Greg Willette echoes the distinctive Piedmont style, similar to Doc Watson and Etta Baker.

While on tour in California, the band’s serendipitous meeting with Luke and Molly Skaggs, son and daughter of bluegrass icon Ricky Skaggs, added even more variety to the band’s sound. Luke contributes with the Irish bouzouki, violin, and vocals, and Molly plays the accordion and banjo, reflecting her studies of Appalachian mountain music.

“We didn’t originally think, ‘Let’s start a band with electric folk instruments and pursue this as a vocation,’ ” Roach says. “We soon realized that we had stumbled upon a very unique sound that needed to be heard by a larger audience.”

For two years, the band worked on its recently released CD, The Sea Has Spoken, which includes guests Ricky Skaggs and tuba player Mark Daumin, of the Chapel Hill band Lost in the Trees. While Skaggs provided Skaggs Place Studio in Nashville, Tennessee, for recording, North Carolina’s tight-knit music community buoyed the effort. Wake Forest University opened its doors for additional recording sessions and the use of percussion instruments. Joel Khouri, from Charlotte’s Bright City Studios, co-produced the album with the band. He made the long trips to Nashville and, in the end, pulled everything together from the various recording sessions.

Although listeners will hear more than 30 instruments on the new album — from dun duns to doumbeks — the songs still ring familiar. Traditional sounds from the hammered dulcimer, banjo, and acoustic guitar reflect North Carolina’s musical roots. All the musicians credit their North Carolina heritage for influencing their music.

“From Appalachia to Albemarle, from bluegrass to beach music, North Carolina’s rich musical history found its way into my heart and my fingertips,” Windsor says. “I’m continually grateful to have grown up in a state so passionate about art and music.”

On that small stage at The Green Bean, the band plays the last song of the set. Some of the band members close their eyes and lift their faces toward heaven, seeming to hear something meant for their ears only. But the crowd appreciates the privilege to listen in.

Carole Perkins is a freelance writer in Greensboro.

Show me your guitar

Thursday, February 17 (updated 3:00 am)
By Carole Perkins

Throughout history, musicians have revered their guitars, at times giving them names or assigning them human characteristics. Keith Richards slept with his guitar, and George Harrison’s gently wept.

We asked Triad musicians to share their stories about their own pride and joy.

For these eight musicians, their guitars have become old friends or fond memories of loved ones. They’ve survived brawls and rainstorms and have provided inspiration and companionship.

Every musician has his own story to tell, but they have one thing in common: They love their guitars.

Here are their stories:

Herb Stephens, 54, Winston-Salem
Guitar: 1979 Mighty Mite Stratocaster electric guitar

“I became interested in the guitar at the age of 14. In 1974, I met a drummer and bass player Herbie and 'AppleJack’ Robert Walters on bass.

“They asked me if I wanted to start up a band. We formed the band Human Blood, 'HB Productions.’ One very busy day, I accidentally backed over my guitar. It was like running over a child. I got it fixed eight months later and use it on 70 percent of my gigs.

“It’s a great guitar. I just love it. Sometimes I’m so mentally drained after work. But when I walk in and see my guitar, I feel this calmness come over me. I pick it up and play it for a while. I forget about my troubles and my 9-to-5 and just sail on.”

Dr. Kami Rowan, 46, Greensboro
Rowan's website
Guitar: 2003 Concert Classical De Jonge (handmade by Sergie de Jonge)

“My Garcia was my gateway guitar into the classical world. I played an Oribe for 25 years; we had a commitment. My father used some of my grandfather’s black lung check (he was a coal miner) to pay for the instrument. Along the way I stumbled upon my Takamine. Damaged in the factory and originally intended to be sold in Europe, I got the deal of the century. Finally, five years ago, I found my De Jonge. A small, chocolate-sounding guitar, it fits me like a glove. The hours spent playing my guitars have been the most rewarding journey of discovery, expression and growth. My guitars are my friends and my tools for spiritual and emotional grounding. They have enabled and allowed me to always be who I am.”

Patrick Lui, 45, Winston-Salem
patrickluiguitar.com
Guitar: 2007 Thucea classical guitar (handmade by Andrea Tacchi)

“When I was 15 years old, my father decided to get me a summer job working in a bra factory. I spent the money I made there on my first guitar. It was clear from my first lessons that music would be my career. I bought my first classical guitar with the money left to me by my grandmother (Lilly), who I was very close to.

“Maintaining a balance between teaching and performing is a real challenge. I still maintain a concert career performing from small colleges to large concert halls. I play a very unusual instrument made by Andrea Tacchi from Italy. The instrument is lyrical, colorful and sings with absolute clarity. It has a voice all of its own and yet is completely ready to compromise with you. It has become an old friend that I know will never fail me.”

Benjy Johnson, 43, Greensboro
benjyjohnsonmusic.com
Guitar: 1986 Charvel Model 2 electric guitar

“My 1986 Charvel Model 2 was purchased with money earned from working construction with my father the whole summer of 1985. We worked in sweltering heat six and sometimes seven days a week that summer, but all the while I had that new Charvel in my sights. Over the years, he was always proud of the fact that I used that money to buy my first real guitar, and he loved to hear me play. My father recently passed away in July, and although I hadn’t played that guitar much lately, something made me get it out and string it up to complete my new instrumental CD. It sounded perfect for the last three tracks. Now, every time I get that guitar and hear those tracks, it reminds me of my dad, how cool he was and all the hard work we did that summer.”

Jeffrey Dean Foster, 50, Winston-Salem
jeffreydeanfoster.com
Guitar: 1966 Fender Telecaster electric guitar

“My first guitar was a Telecaster I found for sale in the paper. It was road-worn and a real player. The fellow who sold it to me said he had played for Billy 'Crash’ Craddock for years. That guitar has been all over the country with me and has survived club brawls, gun play and rainstorms.

“Once while recording in Memphis, Tenn., I noticed a man playing my Telecaster. After he left, I asked who he was. They said it was Paul Burlison of The Paul Burlison Rock and Roll Trio. Once, while we were in New York City, Mick Taylor of the Rolling Stones came by the studio and picked my guitar up and played a few licks on it. He then left the studio with a Zero candy bar of mine. No lie!

“That guitar is still my main guitar. I’ve accumulated a lot of them over the years, but my original dream guitar is still with me.”

Molly Miller, 23, Greensboro
ameliasmechanics.com
Guitar: 2010 Thinline Telecaster electric guitar

“My relationship with guitars began at a young age. I preferred spending my designated practice time making 'instruments’ out of old Tropicana boxes, rubber bands and bits of gravel for tone. My first guitar, a Gibson J-160e, was a beautiful, kind and euphonious speaker and was so light to pick up that he was never a strain on my shoulders. Had my guitar been born a human, he would have been Gandhi. But as the fate of many greats, my first Gibson met an untimely death on a cement floor in Jamestown . I now refer to that evening as 'The night my light went out in Jamestown.’ But as horrible as I felt driving home with my shattered Gibson in his case-turned-coffin, my relationship with music was able to evolve because of the accident. I went out a few months later, bought a Thinline Telecaster and haven’t looked back. Guitars are still my favorite, but like any relationship, sometimes you need a change.

Lorenzo “Logie” Meachum, 58, Greensboro
logieworks.com
Guitar: Circa 1931 nickel- plated Johnson acoustic guitar

“Children in schools call it a hubcap guitar because it looks like it could be an automobile accessory. It’s a silver, shining, Dobro-style guitar made by Johnson. It is very special to me because of the way people are attracted to it whenever I pull it out of the case and start tuning it. I’ve played it in the streets of several cites, a few yard parties and several events at the Greensboro library, and it’s always a star. I often believe my playing skills don’t do it justice, but every now and then, the two of us make musical moments that give great pleasure. “As a gentleman once told me, 'Man, that song gave me chicken skin!’

“Whenever I feel like playing some real blues, I pick it up, tune it and find a glass slide. If I’m lucky, I find that sweet spot on the strings that just transports your ears and your mind to somewhere way down Highway 61.”

Ted Lyons, 58, Winston-Salem
Guitar: 2005 National Reso-phonic Radio Tone “Like most professional guitar players, I have several instruments I use and treasure. However, my main road guitar is a 2005 National Reso-phonic Radio Tone fitted with a Lollar Telecaster-style pickup. Although not an expensive instrument, the Radio Tone is a rare guitar. My style of playing is highly percussive and often somewhat unorthodox. I like to pop and smack the body of the instrument to drive the rhythm. I often scratch my fingernails along the fret board and pound the strings with my hand in an effort to achieve bell-like chords, echo, hum and other interesting and unpredictable aural contrasts. The Radio Tone’s unique internal resonator system and allied electronic pick-up chime and reverberate and allow me, if I’m lucky, to coax from the guitar mysterious, ancient tones and send them out into the air all around.”

Bruce Piephoff, 61, Greensboro
reverbnation.com/brucepiephoff
Guitar: 1968 Martin D-35

“I started playing the guitar around 1968 while a student at UNC-Chapel Hill. I have a 1968 Martin D-35 that belonged to my father. After some wild and reckless years in my youth, I decided to go back to school and get my Master of Fine Arts degree in creative writing at UNCG where I studied with Fred Chappell and Bob Watson. When I got the MFA in 1984, my dad was living near the Grand Canyon in Arizona, drove his pickup truck from there to Greensboro and presented me with his guitar as a graduation gift. It was gratifying and quite a pleasure to make him proud of me by getting my MFA. Kind of like when Johnny Cash gave Bob Dylan his guitar. (Those were two of my dad’s favorite artists.) He was accepting that I’d chosen to be a writer and a musician.

Contact Carole Perkins at CPGuilford@aol.com

Creators of children's book click over music

Thursday, February 10 (updated 3:00 am)
By Carole Perkins

There is something special about Stephen Roach, co-founder of the band Songs of Water and author of his first children’s book, “Satchel Willoughby and the Realm of Lost Things.”

His friends describe him as “saintly” and “full of grace,” but Roach would probably scoff at such terms, preferring instead to be described as having “Wink Zangley Doo.” It’s a term Roach created for the main character of his book. It means something that shines from within.

The idea for the story, Roach says, came from his father, a pack rat whose possessions accumulated in piles scattered across his backyard.

“If you asked him if he had a particular item, he would say he had 12 of them ... somewhere, if only he could find where he had put them,” Roach says.

Over the span of eight years, Roach mulled over the idea of where lost things could go, daydreaming and jotting down notes in the notebook he keeps in his back pocket.

“I began considering all the things a person could lose, from trivial items like car keys to more serious personal losses. I realized I had stumbled upon a treasure trove of a concept,” he says.

The idea “snowballed” into a story he says he knew he had to tell.

As serendipity would have it, Roach met a kindred spirit, Vesper Stamper, who illustrated the self-published book. Stamper and her husband, Ben, (who together form the duo Ben + Vesper) were on tour when they met Roach at the Local 506 in Chapel Hill. When Roach discovered Stamper was an illustrator, he sent her the story and a connection sparked between them.

“Vesper sent me some samples of her interpretations of the characters. When I saw her work, I knew she had captured the heart of the story,” Roach says.

Stamper, a graduate of Parsons School of Design in New York City, comes from a family of artists and taught herself to draw as a child by copying the pictures found in her favorite books. Stamper says that meeting Roach through music gave them an instant common ground.

“Working with Stephen was a fantastic experience because he completely trusted me with his vision,” says Stamper, who lives in New Jersey. “It just clicked. His story was so descriptive in itself it made my job easy.

“Music informs art and poetry and everything else. Things like pace, cadence, dark versus light, these are musical concepts as well as visual/literary ones.”

In “Satchel Willoughby and the Realm of Lost Things,” Roach’s writing and Stamper’s illustrations weave together a story with spiritual themes that underlie the quest of young red-headed Satchel (whom Sampler modeled after a young Roach) as he searches for his Wink Zangley Doo.

In what appears to be their time to shine, Roach and Stamper will combine their creative talents with book signings and concerts featuring Songs of Water and Ben + Vesper. They’ll perform Sunday at a house concert in Greensboro. Roach will also read selections from the book.

Contact Carole Perkins at CPGuilford@aol.com