ARTIST
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Seldom Scene
Seldom is seen, a man like John
a gentleman of the country
a high tenor of awe
marvelous showman and picker too
a great sense of humour
luthrie abilities well known
I miss him more, listening to the past
than I enjoyed him when he was here
to entertain, and shock us all,
as only he knew how to do
Hat's off to John Duffy, miss him today
appreciate so much, what you did
We'll listen to him as we did before
timeless recordings, forever will stand
in the back of my mind
today and tomorrow, and the day next
Rest in peace John, say hello to Bill.
Stephen M Brandt
Copyright ©2006 Stephen M Brandt
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Dec. 20, 1996
By Stephen Ide
The Patriot Ledger
John Duffey wore multi-colored pants on stage and offered up plenty of offbeat, sometimes tasteless humor.
He also played a mean mandolin.
But mostly, Duffey was the award-winning voice that drove the acclaimed Washington, D.C.-based bluegrass group The Seldom Scene for 25 years.
Duffey, who died unexpectedly of a heart attack Dec. 10, 1996 at home, was 62. He is survived by his wife, Nancy, and children from a previous marriage.
To many who know the Seldom Scene, it was Duffey's high tenor voice, drifting in harmonic waves behind the lead vocalist, that have made the group's sound distinctive.
Also unique was Duffey's bent toward playing music within and outside the realm of traditional bluegrass music.
"To me, it's always been how the personnel sounds together," Duffey said during an interview in September. "People have told me the Scene will always sound that way because I sound the way I do. It's kind of like (banjoist) Ralph Stanley. Nobody's going to sound like Ralph Stanley ... That's not blowin' a horn or anything. It just seems to be some sort of fact."
It was, in fact, the Seldom Scene that first got me fascinated with bluegrass harmony some years ago. Some of Duffey's most memorable vocals come in the plaintive melody "Wait A Minute" or in the tragic "Long Black Veil." Led by Duffey's high-end vocals, the band often would reach for a few unexpected notes during a cappella harmony stretches. It's what made their sound sweet.
Duffey's mandolin playing, like in the raucous jam of J.J. Cale's "After Midnight," was spontaneous and full of fire. I recall seeing him play flurries of notes, surprising even himself with either its speed or the fact that he pulled it off.
Duffey was considered a second-generation bluegrasser, following in the steps of creators of the genre like fellow mandolinist and Father of Bluegrass, Bill Monroe (who died in September) or Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs. But Duffey and the Seldom Scene fostered their own generation of followers who enjoyed their progressive twists in a genre based on structure and tradition.
"I think when we recorded `Rider' in 1973, it really drew a crossover audience," he said. "There was a fellow who introduced himself to me in Lexington, Kentucky several years ago who said he owned a chain of record stores ... And he said `you all do have the strangest audience. They come in and buy Led Zeppelin and the Seldom Scene. Now, there's nothing wrong with that. I just think it's unusual.'"
Asked what was most satisfying about playing in the Seldom Scene, Duffey responded quickly: "Money." Then he laughed and added: "I think we were responsible, too, for spreading the music out a lot more, getting it out of the closet ... We might have been No. 1 in getting it (the music) off the flatbed truck and into the Kennedy Center and the Ambassador Auditorium, where no one ever thought of it going 30 years ago."
It was Duffey and the Scene who took bluegrass music out of the sticks and made it popular with urban audiences, helping to bring it out of obscurity and more into the mainstream. He was once quoted as saying: "Bluegrass is not pornography anymore. It's OK to say you enjoy it."
That enjoyment rang true right up through the band's most recent album, "Dream Scene" (Sugar Hill), on which they blended traditional sounding material with a bluegrass rendition of the Creedence Clearwater Revival number "Bad Moon Rising." It reflected Duffey's free-spirited influence and how he enjoyed "writing more on the contemporary side," rather than songs with rural themes about "mamma's dead again or my dog's dying."
"Bad Moon Rising is a perfect example," he said laughing. "You don't even understand it. But who cares?"
Born March 4, 1934 in Washington, Duffey said he practiced mandolin in the closet while in high school, learning music by Monroe and others as well as the music of the day.
Singing was in his blood. His father sang with the Metropolitan Opera Company for 25 years. "He taught me something about singing. Use your diaphragm. Don't sing out of your throat, and that allows you to get some push behind it," he said.
By 1957 he became a member of the original Country Gentlemen, a band whose bluegrass sound was considered groundbreaking for its purity and drive. Duffey left the Country Gents in 1969 after participating in four recordings on Virginia's Rebel Records.
At a party held by guitarist and vocalist John Starling in 1971, the original members of the Seldom Scene formed by accident, during a jam session.
Duffey, who once had an instrument repair business, explained that so many of the members had been out of the music business for so long, that Country Gents founder Charlie Waller joked "Well, what are they going to be, seldom seen?" The name stuck.
Besides Duffey and Starling, they included Country Gent alumnus Tom Gray, dobroist Mike Auldridge and banjoist Ben Eldridge, a college acquaintance of Duffey's.
They recorded seven albums on Rebel Records, including "Old Train," "Live at the Cellar Door" and the gospel recording, "Baptizing." The band then signed with North Carolina-based Sugar Hill Records, where it recorded 11 albums, plus compilations, garnering a Grammy Award for "Bluegrass -- The World's Greatest Show" in 1982.
I saw the Seldom Scene at shows like the Winterhawk Bluegrass Festival in New York (now the site of the Grey Fox Bluegrass Festival), where it was one of the premier acts, and at the Somerville Theater in triple bills with folk guitarist Jonathan Edwards and the progressive New England bluegrass band Northern Lights.
Duffey frequently would toy with the audience, drawing innuendos from comments heard in the crowd. Inevitably he cracked a pearly grin before jumping into his next song. "It's all spontaneous," he said laughing, "Unless I happen to hear a good one-liner at the barbershop."
As a fan, it was Duffey's fun-loving attitude toward the music and performing kept the music and the show light. He remembered one antic, dressing up and mocking Boy George: "I got myself an orange wig and a cape and became Boy John occasionally."
The Scene also made regular appearances at the Birchmere in Washington, D.C., and had even played at the White House for President Carter and Vice President Al Gore.
Duffey recalled playing at the band's 15th anniversary concert at the Kennedy Center in Washington. "The Kennedy Center hadn't been sold out all year," he said. "And we sold it out and they were selling `limited view' seats for half the price. That was a pretty big highlight."
Last year, Duffey watched the mass exodus of band members Moondi Klein, T. Michael Coleman and Auldridge, who left to form their own group, Chesapeake.
Though the Seldom Scene had been playing some 150 dates a year, the three departing members wanted to work more frequently than did Eldridge and Duffey.
"I'm no spring chicken anymore," Duffey said last summer. "And I don't want to play eight days a week ... Those of us that have to sing in a higher register can't do it that often."
He also said he liked having time off from performing.
"I like to cut the grass and plant flowers and play golf. I used to play softball all the time. I used to bowl, too."
Duffey and Eldridge, however, quickly brought in new blood, with Dudley Connell, Ronnie Simpkins and Fred Travers. Duffey said he considered it a fresh start for the band.
Sugar Hill Records spokeswoman Rebekah Radisch said the band's annual New Year's Eve performance in Washington will go on as planned, but all future dates are uncertain.
"It would be hard to think of it (the band) without him," Radisch said. "Then again, the Scene's always managed to continue. But it was Duffey who was the catalyst for that."
She added that former member Starling would attend the show as well as some other previous members, indicating the show will undoubtedly be a tribute to Duffey.
©1996 Stephen A. Ide
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Old John Duffey lies a-smolderin' in his grave,
His truth goes marching on ...
Who is John Duffey, you ask? Good question. I was asking the same thing at the Winterhawk concert recently. You see, I'm an FNG (Frickin' New Grasser) and I had never heard of John Duffey.
This was the 15th year for the Winterhawk Bluegrass Festival, held in the beautiful Berkshire Mountains in New York state during the dog-days of July and hosted by the Dry Branch Fire Squad. This was only the third bluegrass event I had ever attended (thus, the FNG moniker). The festival is becoming more and more popular, and according to this untrained and inexperienced eye, had more attendees than my previous years.
John Duffey passed away recently and was well respected by the folks at Winterhawk, his bluegrass professional peers, and it seems, everyone else that ever had the pleasure of meeting the man.
I attended a workshop on the last day of the festival, hosted by Ron Thomason of Dry Branch. It was called a workshop, because it was held in the workshop tent. Actually, it was a remembrance; a remembrance of a man that had given so much to the music he loved and the people around it, both professional and fan. But more than giving, John Duffey defined the business and art of bluegrass and changed it forever.
But I am not writing about remembering John Duffey. I never knew him. I'm writing about the people that knew him and how they remember him; fondly, with affection and humor. The anecdotes and history went on for almost an hour. I won't repeat them here as I'm sure most of you already know - remember, I'm the FNG.
The thing that impressed me the most - the thing that I walked away with - was the passion of the man - and the passion he passed on to others. He was one of the first bluegrassers, years ago, to turn down a gig because it didn't pay enough money; because he knew that being a bluegrass musician was a serious business. He wore outlandish outfits at his concerts because he knew people remembered that and he knew that bluegrass was entertainment and fun.
During the celebration of John Duffey's life on that sunny afternoon in Ancram, NY, the following question was asked of Ron Thomason: (excuse me for paraphrasing) "Now that John Duffey has passed, and considering your friendship with him over the years and the fact that you are also a mandolin player, do you feel the need to inherit his mantle and follow in his footsteps?". Ron characteristically (and also unexpectedly) sat back in his chair and exclaimed, "I didn't!" which brought a chuckle from the crowd.
Ron went on to say, (again, excuse me for paraphrasing, I was not taping, but I sure wish I was), that John would not want anyone to follow in his footsteps. John encouraged and helped his fellow musicians in an age when your livelihood's secrets were kept to yourself. John would want you to find your own way. Ron went on to say that he was influenced by Duffey, and would respect his memory by playing his music, but he felt that to honor John the most, he would be himself and to give his all, as John had.
The memories and anecdotes continued. I wandered away. I felt the early afternoon sun on my back and stared up at the remaining crowd scattered along the hillside, enjoying the act on the main stage, Ron's words echoed in my head and touched my heart. My mind was going a hundred miles an hour.
You can't inherit respect and admiration. You must make your own way, develop your own style, earn your own respect. These simple yet powerful and truthful thoughts flowed from Ron's mouth (and no doubt, his own upbringing and life experiences) , but were also sparked by the man he was speaking about.
I didn't know John Duffey, but I saw those that remembered him. I saw their respect and admiration as they mourned for a member of their family. I saw their eyes tear and voices choke as they spoke of him.
No, I didn't know John Duffey, but I wish I had.
Malin Zergeibel, 7/20/97
