Obit: Farewell, Chet Atkins.... (1924-June 2001)

Subject: RE: OBIT: Farewell, Chet Atkins.... (1924-June 2001)
From: Desert Dancer
Date: 13 Jul 11 - 11:31 AM

A sweet video of Chet and Dolly -- with something different from Chet. This seemed the best thread for it...

~ Becky in Long Beach

Subject: RE: OBIT: Farewell, Chet Atkins.... (1924-June 2001)
From: Richie
Date: 02 Sep 09 - 03:00 PM

I did a show with Chet in 1992 in Winston-Salem NC.

When I went to pick up one of the other performers Chet was there in the hotel lobby ready to go. He asked me if he could ride with us so I said sure.

My trunk was packed with all my equipment and after moving everything around- there wasn't room for Chet's guitar!

Chet had to wait for another ride and I was embarassed beyond words.

Richie

Subject: RE: OBIT: Farewell, Chet Atkins.... (1924-June 2001)
From: bankley
Date: 02 Sep 09 - 09:00 AM

Thanks Joe.... a good way for a picker to start the day

Subject: RE: OBIT: Farewell, Chet Atkins.... (June 2001)
From: Joe Offer
Date: 02 Sep 09 - 01:21 AM

In another thread, sommebody posted a link to this document, an article written by Janis Ian: http://janisian.com/article-chet_atkins.html. It's no longer available on the Janis Ian Website, so I thought I'd post it here:

In Memoriam: Chet Atkins Performing Songwriter, 2001 The first time I met Chet Atkins in the flesh, he grinned, handed me a Gibson, and said "Play me something pretty". Now I'd seen him playing my songs on TV, and I knew there'd be nothing pretty about it if I attempted to play as well. So I demurred, saying I wasn't a guitarist but a songwriter. "Horse hockey. I've heard your records. Now, sit back and play me something pretty." Not a request, but a command. I played whatever came to mind, then we went to lunch. That was the thing about Chet. He was interested. Whether it was a guitar piece, a bad joke, or a new piece of technological wizardry, he demanded you show it to him right now, or pay the price. The price was usually lunch - half a tuna sandwich with pickle on the side, dry bread. Great artists have one thing in common; there's no ego involved when they're in pursuit of their art. Oh, Chet would strive to out-dazzle anyone who dared to walk on stage with him. That was his job. But he loved to hear a good player, and if it was something new to him (as much of my guitar work was, since I couldn't manage to play in anyone else's style), he'd make you repeat it until he had it down. Then you'd go to lunch. We bonded over tuna fish. I came to Nashville in 1986 with all the assumptions Northerners make about the South; that people here were more bigoted, more ignorant, and generally more foolish than their Northern counterparts. When Chet and I started to pal around, I learned just how wrong I was. Shortly after becoming friends, we went out to dinner with Chet's wife Leona at the country club they belonged to. I was uneasy making conversation with her at first. Chet and I usually talked about music and told dirty jokes, neither of which seemed appropriate. Somehow we got onto the subject of country clubs, and I asked why they didn't belong to the "top club" in town. Leona leaned forward, a look of horror on her face, and said "Because those people still use the 'N' word there." She sat back, shaking her head in annoyance. I did some asking around and discovered that Chet was known for walking the thin line between the good old boys and the liberal faction. It was understood that Chet was a giant, beloved by all. It was also understood that you didn't mess with those he considered "his". When Charlie Pride (who is black) came to Nashville, determined to make a name for himself in the white bastion of country music, Chet made sure they were photographed together for all the papers. He took Charlie to breakfast at the Pancake Pantry, ignoring the stares. He made sure Pride was treated with respect - not because Chet was a bleeding heart liberal, but because he thought it was fair. There wasn't a bigoted bone in Chet's body, and he defended the right of anyone with talent to enter the arena. He remembered well enough what it had been like for himself. Imagine a lanky kid from the mountains, determined to play better than anyone else, but with an accent thicker than molasses. He's from a rural area where there's no electricity in his house, so when he finally gets a guitar pickup, he has to go to the schoolhouse to plug it in. He persists, studying everyone from Django Reinhardt to Mother Maybelle Carter. Then he makes his way to the big city of Knoxville, where everyone he runs across makes fun of his speech, his clothing, his way of eating. A big comedown for a rural boy with dreams in his heart. He never forgave them. Years later, speaking of that time, his lips would compress and anger would flare behind his eyes. To Chet, it was unforgiveable that they would judge him by his appearance, rather than his worth as a musician. Perhaps that's why he was color-blind. I discovered how honorable he was, and how fiercely he defended "his own", when I began releasing records again in 1992 after eleven years of silence. The press made a huge fuss over my being gay, featuring "the news" on CNN, Entertainment Tonight and the like. I expected some flack from the Nashville industry; no matter how many people knew already, it was different reading about it in the papers. They'd have to explain to their families. They'd have to confront it with me. Some people were not going to be happy. And I was worried about Chet's reaction; I adored him, and didn't want anything to change our relationship. Nothing changed; I still got invited to "spend some time playing and talking", we still went to lunch, and I forgot all about it. A while later I asked Chet whether it had bothered him, and he said with a glint in his eye, "Well, I kinda thought you might be getting sweet on me, but I guess with all this, you weren't." I laughed, threw my arms around him, and said "Chet, if ever I'd be sweet on a fella, it'd be you." We both smiled and he ruffled my hair, then asked "Haven't had any problems in town, have you?". No, no problems, I said. Much to my surprise. He nodded and we went to lunch. A few years later, I discovered that when the television and magazine articles appeared, Chet had called a bunch of friends who might have a problem with it and told them that any problem they had with me, they would have with him. One told me he said "She's mine, you know." His protection meant a lot in a town where, fifteen years after my arrival, people still say "She's pretty new around here." Around that same time my partner and I bought a house, and we held a "Moved but not unpacked" party for all our friends. Chet and Leona came, and he spent a few hours fiddling around with the antenna of an old Phillips radio we'd bought. I thought nothing of it until he left, when several people came up and said "Chet never goes to parties. Chet never goes anywhere! How come he came, and he stayed so long?!" I asked my partner what she thought, and she said "Honey, he's just serving notice to the community that we're all right with him." Chet was an inveterate tinkerer, with a basement full of gadgets. He loved toys, mechanical marvels; I brought him a wind-up spider once and he played with it for half an hour, figuring out how it worked. His contributions to electronics in music are largely unknown, yet he's responsible for a ton of innovations, including the first solid-body amplified "acoustic" guitar. People like me, who started amplifying our guitars with Piezo pickups and then went to solider bodies to cut down on feedback, owe him our ability to compete with bands and loud electric guitars. He loved jokes; some of the best memories I have are of sitting around a meat & three restaurant with Chet and his friends, listening as they told the worst dirty jokes in the world. He'd set you up, too. We went to lunch with Billy Edd Wheeler, years ago, and I was nervous because Billy Edd had written one of my favorite songs. "Shoot, he's just a hillbilly from the mountains. Be patient, he's not real good with words. Nice fella, though," said Chet. I spent the day talking down to Billy Edd, keeping my vocabulary simple, and staying away from deep topics. He told us about his college days, how he'd tinkered with this and that before finally coming home to the South. He offered up a lot of dirty jokes. I wondered why they were friends. At the end of the night he slipped and made a comment about the new Tom Stoppard play. He sounded suspiciously intellectual. "Where did you go to school?" I asked. He said it was up North, nothing special. "And what did you study?" I wondered. Just some plays here and there, he replied. "And what was the name of the school?" Yale Drama, he told me. Chet roared while I stood there with egg on my face. Chet loved to be around women. All women. Big, small, short, tall, he made polite passes at them all. In part it stemmed from his era, when flirtation was considered the duty of a polite male, and women were expected to enjoy it. In part, it was just a genuine fascination with femininity. The passes were always subtle, no follow-up necessary; just a bit of gentlemanly flirting. A friend of mine, a singer who'd known Chet for decades, was laughing about it one day, saying she'd been flattered and amused. She asked if I'd been flattered, too. "He's never flirted with me", I replied. She was astonished - "Never? …honey you must be the only woman in Nashville he's never made a pass at!" I thought about that for a while, getting more and more upset. How come? Wasn't I pretty enough? I knew he found me attractive; he was good about telling me a new haircut looked nice, or a new shirt flattered my figure. It bothered me that maybe he was just being polite with those compliments. The next time I saw him, I told him it troubled me. He looked astonished. "Shoot, Janis. You're brilliant. You're a genius songwriter. You're… you're… you're a musician!". I laughed with relief; it wasn't that he found me unattractive, but that his main interest in me was musical - the way my brain and hands worked. The rest was unimportant. His protection continued, though sometimes he reached an impasse. He invited me to perform with him on Prairie Home Companion, then told me sadly that it hadn't worked out. The show refused to have me on, saying I wasn't "family entertainment". Chet's lips were white when he told me, full of apologies. He refused to go into exactly what had been said, but I later discovered they'd had a shouting match over it, culminating in Chet calling the man who'd decided a "full-fledged upside-down-and-sideways all-kinds-of-fool". They didn't speak for some time, and Chet took great pleasure in introducing me to him backstage a few years later. He had to shake my hand as Chet stood there, grinning. It was as sweet for Chet as it was for me. I realized he was getting frail for the first time at a show one January in Ann Arbor, Michigan. It featured Michael Hedges, Keb Mo', and Chet, with me sandwiched inbetween. I was completely unnerved at the thought of following Michael, a "real" guitarist, but Chet kept telling me not to worry. "You're prettier than he is by a long shot" he said with a lopsided grin. It was an old theater, and the dressing room had no heat. Chet stood around trying to get his hands warm, worrying about the effect of the cold on his playing. We ended up standing at the side of the stage, face to face, our hands stuck under each others' armpits for warmth. He seemed fragile at that moment, an old man worried about his health. I walked him onstage because he was concerned about his sight; at the end of his set I walked him off. Months later he had surgery for a brain tumor. Rumors were rampant; he'd never play again, he couldn't see, he couldn't speak. The city decided to honor him with a big concert at the Ryman Auditorium, and he asked if I would play. There I was, again sandwiched between real players like Marty Stuart and Mark Knopfler. I stepped forward and told a story: years ago, Chet asked why I didn't take guitar solos. "I can't play as fast as those guys do, Chet." He considered this for a moment, then said "Heck, if you can't play a whole lot faster, play a whole lot slower!" That's how the guitar solo in my song Welcome To Acousticville was born. That night I told the story, then played the song, and winked at Chet on the end chord of the solo. He rose slightly, tipped his hat at me, and winked back. They caught it on tape, and it's one of the proudest moments of my life. After the brain surgery, he stopped playing in public. I would sit around listening to him plucking away, and wonder why. He was still learning new licks, trying to teach me harmonic runs (a lost cause, but one he never gave up on), and sounding great to my ears. I asked why he refused to play for an audience any more, and he replied "Maybe they can't tell, but I can. I can't play as fast any more, and I know I'll never play the same." One of the things I learned from Chet toward the end of his life was how to behave like an honest star. Unfailingly courteous and cordial to his fans, he was conscious of their love for him, concerned that they'd worry over his health. As his strength declined, it became more difficult for us to go out for lunch. He had trouble walking, and it was hard to get him in and out of a car. I took to borrowing my partner's low-slung vehicle, rather than bringing my own SUV. Chet would shuffle around the office in slippers, moving more and more slowly, but he still loved company. One day I arrived to find his doctor there, showing Chet a new walker. It was three-wheeled, and seemed to give him an easier time balancing than the old one. He practiced up and down the hall, then said "All right, let's go get lunch." We opened the door and handed him the walker. Chet looked at both of us like we were crazy, and said "Heck, I'm a star! I'm not going out with that thing in public!" He'd worked too hard, and too long, to let down any fans who might perceive the walker as an admission of defeat. We went to lunch with Chet using our shoulders for support instead. I visited him at home for the last time, bringing my friend Philip with his new guitar. Chet ran his fingers along the strings and played a few runs, complimenting the instrument and showing us a new amp "some company sent". Then we ate the tuna sandwiches I'd brought. He was thinner than ever, so frail the whites of his bones seemed to show through the skin. He spent the afternoon holding my hand as I snuggled against him on the couch, cracking the occasional joke while people came and went. I was leaving on a long tour the next week, and wondered if it would be the last time I saw him. I hoped not; I'd always kept up with him by sending postcards of large-breasted women from around the world. I still had a stack of them to go. That night I thought a lot about all he'd taught me. It was Chet who taught me to make my playing look effortless. He understood that for a guitarist, the flashiest licks are usually the easiest. Once you've gotten them into your muscle memory, they're yours for life. It's the slow ones that stay difficult, competing with the hand's desire for motion, and the heart's insistence on speed. It was Chet who taught me that you don't have to wave flags, or shout expletives, to make things change. You just have to live your life as though everyone else's bigotry doesn't exist, and make a point of doing the right thing in public. It was Chet who taught me that the occasional bad joke keeps morale up better than an expensive gift. That it's nice to get awards, but more fun to sit in the basement and tinker with a new toy. That it's great to be acknowledged as one of the greatest guitar players in the world, but it's better to learn a brand-new lick. That if you behave humbly, sooner or later you will find yourself truly humble - and that humility is something we all need to learn. My partner called me backstage at a concert in Helene, Montana, to give me the sad news. It hit me harder than I'd expected; even after seeing him the last time, I couldn't imagine he'd die. Life in Nashville without Chet was unthinkable; he'd been there for me almost from the day I arrived. I could count on him to explain why certain people didn't invite me to write with them, or ask me to their homes for dinner. I could count on him to explain what "Bless his heart" really meant, and why people stared at me no matter how I dressed. I could count on him to make it all right, or make me not care. I remember mumbling something into the phone, asking her to give me Chet's home number so I could call the family. I spoke with his wife, who was as gracious as ever, and explained that I was on tour and would be unable to attend either the funeral or the memorial. I arranged to send a donation to the hospice that had cared for him those last weeks, as she requested. Then I walked onstage and told Chet stories until the heartache eased a bit. The empty space inside me lingered for weeks, as I kept pulling postcards out of my bag to send him from the road. Some critics have said that his playing was lacking in "soul", and dated. I beg to differ. It was as clean as polished marble, thoughtful and precise, but there was heart behind every lick. And humor. Chet was a great improviser, on all fronts. Several years ago I recorded a track to a song of mine called Memphis, then asked Chet to overdub the lead. I explained that I also hoped to have Willie Nelson sing with me on it. Chet pointed out that one of the problems with "recording in stages" is that the finished product often sounds like the musicians were never together in one room. I agreed but confessed that I didn't know how to solve it. He did. At the end of his take, after the band on tape had finished, he added a wonderful obligatto guitar run, just as he might have in the studio. He timed it to fit right inbetween the last drum note, and the drummer's hearty laughter. To this day, even I would swear Chet was present at the session, adding that guitar lick to give everyone a chuckle. Remember, he wasn't just a guitarist, inventor, songwriter. He was also a producer out of the old school, concerned with the whole and subsuming his own work to the good of the track and the singer. He didn't need to show off. I guess that's the thing of it. He was the best guitarist I've ever known, and he was proud of it - heck, he used the monikor CGP (Certified Guitar Player) on everything, taking great pleasure in adding it to his signature on letters. He took great pleasure in the gag, because he'd never been to college, never been certified in anything, and yet here he was owning half of Music Row with a catalogue stretching back to 1947. But at the end of the day, he was just as happy with a new lick, half a tuna sandwich, and a good joke.

Subject: RE: Chet Atkins Funeral
From: Peter T.
Date: 06 Jul 01 - 02:22 PM

He was hit by a heron. yours, Peter T.

Subject: RE: Chet Atkins Funeral
From: Ebbie
Date: 06 Jul 01 - 02:14 PM

sorry

Subject: RE: Chet Atkins Funeral
From: catspaw49
Date: 05 Jul 01 - 09:54 PM

like i said in the other thread, nashville is really something else when one of it's heroes passes. I was living there for Marty Robbins and can only surmise what atkin's funeral was like.

Spaw

Subject: RE: Chet Atkins Funeral
From: Ebbie
Date: 05 Jul 01 - 05:40 PM

Right! That struck me too, Kim. Waylon was my musical hero for years and I still don't want him to die! Does anyone know what his problem is? Seems like I read about a car wreck- no, that was George Jones...

:(

Ebbie

Subject: RE: Chet Atkins Funeral
From: Ebbie
Date: 05 Jul 01 - 05:38 PM

Right! That struck me too, Kim. Waylon was my musical hero for years and I still don't want him to die! Does anyone know what his problem is? Seems like I read about a car wreck- no, that was George Jones...

:(

Ebbie

Subject: RE: Chet Atkins Funeral
From: Ebbie
Date: 05 Jul 01 - 05:34 PM

Right! That one struck me too, Kim. Waylon was my musical hero for years- and I still :(

Ebbie

Subject: RE: Chet Atkins Funeral
From: Kim C
Date: 05 Jul 01 - 01:01 PM

Very nice article. The visitation and funeral were both open to the public.

Does anyone know why Waylon's in a wheelchair?

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Peter T.
Date: 04 Jul 01 - 04:32 PM

There is an official website that might interest some: www.misterguitar.com

yours, Peter T.

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: beachcomber
Date: 04 Jul 01 - 03:41 PM

Mountain, you ol' dog you, You're brilliant. Your blue clicky worked like a charm and I've "ear" marked that great site you pointed out. Isn't it an excellent ref for country songs/singers, quite a complement to our own DT I think. Many thanks hope I can return favour sometime. Beach

PS Bernard and you, you'll be the death of me with all this technology.

Subject: RE: Chet Atkins Funeral
From: Mark Clark
Date: 04 Jul 01 - 01:59 PM

Thanks, Brian, for including that article here.

      - Mark

Subject: RE: Chet Atkins Funeral
From: Brian Hoskin
Date: 04 Jul 01 - 10:07 AM

Here's the text:

July 4, 2001 Guitars Gently Weep as Nashville Pays Tribute to Chet Atkins By DAVID FIRESTONE ASHVILLE, July 3 — Chet Atkins was as lean and spare and intense as Nashville is boisterous, a reticent musical craftsman who shaped and defined a city of showmen. At his funeral today, a worshipful country music industry tried to define its debt to him, finally giving up on superlatives and expressing itself as he did in the gentle picking of a Gretsch electric guitar.

As his friends Marty Stuart and Vince Gill played some of Mr. Atkins's hits, much of country music's royalty sat motionless on the hard wooden pews of the Ryman Auditorium, the old gospel tabernacle where Mr. Atkins played so often with the Grand Ole Opry. There was a strong sense among them that Mr. Atkins, who died of cancer on Saturday at 77, was the best musician of their music's founding generation, and took with him something elemental that is now lost in the marketplace.

"We will never see the like of his talent in one man," said a barely composed Eddy Arnold, the country singer whose hits in the 1950's and 60's were produced by Mr. Atkins. "When you talked about who was the greatest guitar player, Chet's name was never mentioned, because you just took him and put him up there, and then you argued about the rest of them."

But even beyond his six-string virtuosity, Mr. Atkins presided over the city for decades as its most prominent recording executive, a principal creator of the smooth and palatable "Nashville Sound" that took the music from its bluegrass origins to worldwide commercial success and erected a pillar of the state's economy. If the strings and controlled arrangements he and other producers added to the music stole some of its spontaneity and edge over the years, Mr. Atkins always said he did what was necessary to keep from being drowned out by rock 'n' roll.

Some results of his rescue efforts were evident in the long caravan of limousines that pulled up to the side door of the Ryman this morning and discharged celebrities that he first signed to recording contracts, or produced, or coached through ramshackle lives to stardom.

"He changed my life," said Charley Pride, the industry's only black superstar, discovered by Mr. Atkins. "Everything that ever happened to me started with him."

Dolly Parton, whom he signed to RCA, was not there, but Ray Stevens was, and Steve Wariner and T. G. Sheppard.

But it was the older stars, Mr. Atkins's own fragile generation, who showed up in the greatest numbers, struggling through infirmities to pay their tributes. Kitty Wells and her husband, Johnny Wright, walked slowly into the hall, Mr. Wright using a cane. Jumpin' Bill Carlisle, 92, whose Knoxville radio show gave Mr. Atkins early exposure in the 1940's, arrived in a wheelchair, a difficult sight for those who remembered him bounding across the stage of the Ryman during two of the three decades it housed the Opry. Waylon Jennings, country music's legendary rowdy, squirmed into his wheelchair from the back of the day's longest stretch limousine.

"He was a genius," said Mr. Jennings, whom Mr. Atkins signed and produced. "We used to argue and we'd get madder than hell. Then we'd go inside and make some great records."

Mr. Atkins's orange Gretsch guitar sat on the front of the stage in a spotlight during the service, next to one of his signature white hats. His friend Paul Yandell played a similar guitar on "Mr. Sandman," an instrumental hit for Mr. Atkins in 1955, and Connie Smith sang the gospel hymn "Farther Along," backed by an instrumental group that included Mr. Stuart on mandolin.

Later, perhaps in a tribute to Mr. Atkins's sweetened production style, Mr. Stuart and several other musicians played the old Skeeter Davis song "The End of the World," accompanied by a string quartet.

Garrison Keillor, who became a friend of Mr. Atkins's after many years of sharing the stage on Mr. Keillor's public radio show, "A Prairie Home Companion," gave a eulogy laced with quotations from their personal correspondence, revealing a joking side to the guitarist not always on display in the studio.

"I had a screamer in the audience," Mr. Atkins wrote Mr. Keillor a few years ago. "I saw her later and she wasn't all that bad, about 35. A fellow could run some weight off her and maybe fall in love."

Mr. Keillor told some of the Atkins stories that have entered into local lore: How Mr. Atkins grew up poor and asthmatic in eastern Tennessee, replacing a broken string on his Sears Silvertone guitar with a wire from the screen door; how he developed his trademark picking style listening to Merle Travis on a crystal radio set; how he enchanted listeners at his first Opry performance in 1946 with an acoustic version of "Maggie," prompting Minnie Pearl to kiss him and say: "You're a wonderful musician. You're just what we've been needing around here."

Mr. Keillor reminded his audience of about 1,800 that Mr. Atkins knew and played with Elvis Presley, Hank Williams and Patsy Cline, and said Dolly Parton recently kept him laughing for hours as she flirted outrageously with him on his deathbed.

And he called Mr. Atkins the "guitar player of the 20th century," perhaps the greatest influence on other guitar players any musician has had.

"You might be shy and homely and puny and from the sticks and feel looked down upon," Mr. Keillor said, "but if you could play the guitar like that, you would be aristocracy and you would never have to point it out. Anybody with sense would know, and the others don't matter that much anyway."

Copyright 2001 The New York Times Company | Privacy Information

Subject: OBIT: Chet Atkins Funeral
From: Peter T.
Date: 04 Jul 01 - 09:52 AM

Nice article today on Chet Atkins funeral in the NYTimes -- tout Nashville came out -- on the Web by now I guess at www.nytimes.com. yours, Peter T.

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Mountain Dog
Date: 03 Jul 01 - 07:19 PM

Dear Beach,

Go to the COWPIE C&W lyrics site here, assuming my blue clicky skills have not deserted me and click on the Song Corral icon. Check under "A" for Atkins and you'll find the chords/lyrics for this and several other tunes. Incidentally, Chet recorded the tune on his "Chet Atkins, CGP" album around 1988. ("CGP" is, of course, Country Guitar Player...)

All the best!

P.S. Just in case my blue clicky mojo has faded, here's the URL for the COWPIE site:

http://www.roughstock.com/cowpie/

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: beachcomber
Date: 03 Jul 01 - 04:42 PM

Thanks Mountain Dog, That is exactly the song and the emotion that I remember. I was hoping that some kind person would furnish me with athe lyric and maybe even a chord progression? beach

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Jim Krause
Date: 03 Jul 01 - 02:20 PM

Damn the time. All my heroes are kicking the bucket. What am I gonna do? Thank heaven Pete Seeger and Doc Watson are still with us. If either of you finds out about this post, do take care of yourselves, and please, please keep on picking and singing.
Jim

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Mountain Dog
Date: 03 Jul 01 - 11:57 AM

Dear Beachcomber,

I think the song you're remembering about "Dad" was Chet's "I Still Can't Say Goodbye", a truly moving elegy that he always dedicated to his own father's memory. We saw him play it in concert about seven years ago and it brought an unbidden tear to the eye then...it does even moreso right now.

Thank you, Chet, for all you gave us while you were here and for the legacy you leave behind.

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Ebbie
Date: 03 Jul 01 - 12:10 AM

Kim, thanks for the leap of the heart and a broad grin. You are so right.

Ebbie

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: LR Mole
Date: 02 Jul 01 - 04:53 PM

As Auden said of Yeats,"...he became his admirers..."
Later,Chet.

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Walking Eagle
Date: 02 Jul 01 - 03:22 PM

Farewell to a fine guitarist. I think I'm going to turn off the radio and not read the papers for awhile. Tired of bad news.

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Kim C
Date: 02 Jul 01 - 11:54 AM

Having grown up in Nashville, Chet Atkins was always part of my consciousness. Mister and I went to see the Prairie Home Companion at the Ryman several years ago, which was the first live show there after the big renovation. Of course Chet was on the bill. What a guy.

It always seemed to me that Chet was for the artists, even though he had worked for the big business. I heard a radio interview with him one time where he really slammed the Country Music Association. I wish I could remember what he said. At the time it made me gasp! The CMA is a sacred cow, you know. But Chet owned this town and could say whatever he wanted and couldn't nobody touch him.

Ebbie, my dad is partyin' down with your brother and Chet and John Hartford :-)

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Pinetop Slim
Date: 02 Jul 01 - 10:41 AM

Along with everything else, seems he did a lot to nurture young talent -- dulcimer player David Schnaufer and songwriter Cheryl Wheeler come to mind, but I think there were lots of others.

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: GUEST,SharonA
Date: 02 Jul 01 - 09:57 AM

I feel like we're missing the Rapture or something... a lot of people who excelled in their crafts have passed on over these last couple of weeks.

For what it's worth, my local folk-song society friends and I jammed on "Your Cheatin' Heart" in Chet Atkins's honor last night. He will indeed be sorely missed, but thankfully his sound will live on. What a treasure we have lost.

SharonA

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: GMT
Date: 02 Jul 01 - 07:56 AM

Thanks McGrath. Maybe we'll be lucky and get a programme on the telly about him.

Gary

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: McGrath of Harlow
Date: 02 Jul 01 - 07:33 AM

Did they mention it here in the UK ?

Here is the Guardian obituary.

Everyone has talked about him as a performer. As a record producer responsible for "the Nashville Sound", maybe there's another side to it ("casting out the backwoodsy banjos and fiddles and bringing in brass and string sections and vocal choruses"). A quote in that obituary suggests that he may have been a little inclined to agree with that:

There were no breast-beating recantations but, according to Dawidoff, "he still [had] reservations about how far afield he took country music from the relatively unadorned pre war downhome sound."

"We almost do lose our identity sometimes," Atkins admitted. "But somebody'll come along and get us back where we need to be."

And I think that says it all, about music and about a lot of other things, including the Mudcat.

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: BlueJay
Date: 02 Jul 01 - 04:32 AM

When I first started playing guitar, in the early sixties, I took lessons from Gary Atkins, Chet's nephew. A helluva guitarist in his own right. I couldn't even tune the gutair, much less play anything. Gary got me through the fundamentals, and in retrospect he was probably playing a Gibson ES-335, or a similar model. Needless to say I've had a fondness for Chet's music ever since. I wish I could play one tenth as well as either of them. Does anyone know whatever happened to Gary Atkins?

Rest in Peace, Chet. Chetfest in Nashville is bound to be an incredible event this year. I don't know the dates, but I think it starts in a week or so from now. If any of you can attend, it would be more than worth your while, I'm sure. I can't go, but at least my daughter, Annie Enke and my son in law, David Enke will be there. They have a new mini-disc recorder. I sure hope they make proper use of it. Good night, Chet. THANKS, BlueJay

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: GMT
Date: 02 Jul 01 - 04:16 AM

This is not a happy day. I log onto Mudcat to here that Chet is gone. Did they mention it here in the UK ?

A new star shines in heaven.

So long Chet and thanks.

Gary

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Ebbie
Date: 02 Jul 01 - 02:15 AM

One of the images of Chet that have stayed with me is of going by his room and hearing him inside practicing his guitar all alone. It's no wonder at all that he was so good.

Ebbie

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: SDShad
Date: 02 Jul 01 - 12:17 AM

You know, I don't think own a single one of the man's albums, but every time his unassuming smile showed up on the tube and those marvelously skilled fingers started to work their magic, I was mesmerized. He has been on my short, short list of favorite guitarists since I was a teenager. I can't believe we won't be seeing that face and those fingers anew ever again. It just ain't sinking in yet. Just trying to find a way to express my reaction and his influence is choking me up. Seems to me a little of his legacy has been passed along to anyone of the last couple of generations who's ever laid hands on a guitar, hoping to make beautiful sounds....damn, damn, damn. Threes, indeed.

Chris

Chris

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Big Mick
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 07:55 PM

Want to hear a wort of guitar artistry? Get the Chieftains CD with the title of "Another Country". Go to the cut called "Tahitian Skies/Chief O'Neill's Favorite Hornpipe". Chet starts out with Tahitian Skies accompanied by the Chieftains on their trad instrumentation with Moloney playing whistles. They then segue into Chief O'Neill's with Moloney on the pipes. Atkins then plays it on the guitar. I have been trying to copy his elegant rendition since I first heard it. Wonderful stuff.

Mick

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Lanfranc
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 06:49 PM

The first guitar instrumental I ever essayed was "Windy and Warm", inspired by the playing of Chet Atkins. Thirty-five years on I still haven't quite got it right!

One of my first tastes of Country Music was from the "Country Side of Jim Reeves", produced by Chet Atkins.

One of may all-time favourite albumns is "Neck and Neck" - I played it again today to remember him.

Another hero gone. I only knew the man by his music, and that only from records, and the humour (and humility) that shone through in that collaboration with Mark Knopfler and in the interviews and articles as quoted above.

Like millions more, I'll miss him. We have his legacy in recorded form, but it is sad that there will be no more.

Vaya con dios, Chet.

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: bobby's girl
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 06:28 PM

So sad - I loved his album with Mark Knopfler and wanted to know more.

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: vindelis
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 03:56 PM

Just heard the news, my condolences to his family.

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: GUEST,Frogmore
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 03:56 PM

A rare guy. It's impossible for ANYONE to not love the guitar playing of this man. R.I.P.

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: beachcomber
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 03:48 PM

What terribly sad news. Chet Atkins seemed to have been there "forever", did,nt he? What pleasure his playing gave to so many over all those years. For a long time I never knew that he was anything other than a brilliant musician who played on records with just about anyone whose records I happened to buy. One evening some years ago, on some kind of awards show on TV, I heard and saw him sing a very sentimental but lovely song about "Dad". It was around the time my own father died and I'm not ashamed to say , it moved me beyond belief. Does anyone know if a recording of that song exists? I believeI still have the video that I recorded of the show. RIP Chet your legacy will be your world wide memorial.

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: marty D
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 03:31 PM

Great player, STRAGE album covers. For years I thought he was a beautiful woman!

R.I.P Chet

marty

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: rangeroger
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 03:02 PM

Thank you, Murray. Igot both last names right.

Paddymac, I still have the 45 of Boo Boo Stick Beat,which I played for myself last night. I can stll remember my mother's consternation when I bought.She thought it was a stupid name for a song and saw no redeeming qualities in my purchase. Until she heard it and liked it.

rr

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Murray MacLeod
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 02:53 PM

rangeroger, the lead guitarist in the Shadows was Hank Marvin. Bruce Welch played rhythm.

Murray

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Mudlark
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 02:34 PM

Oh man, it is so hard to lose these people! I've admired this man, not just for his faulous virtuosity but also for his spirit, for as long as I can remember. I remember hearing him on Prairie Home Companion, a perfect foil for Keillor, funny, humble, always willing to play the straight man, but getting most of the laughs.

My first "good" guitar was a relatively inexpensive production model but made by the man who made a guitar for Chet Atkins. Tho I rarely play this guitar anymore, being nylon stringed, I will always keep it on that association alone.

What a loss....and how lucky we were to have him at all....

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: grumpy al
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 02:12 PM

another musical GIANT gone. OH well! dont know what to say really a sad sad day grumps

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: JedMarum
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 01:34 PM

... sad to see another music jewell pass, but he left behind such a legacy, such a gift! Thank God for Chet, thanks Chet for your music!

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Rick Fielding
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 01:05 PM

Chet wasn't the FIRST of the great fingerpickers, but he WAS the one who brought that style to AM. radio (Most of Merle's pop songs were vocals) God Bless him. He was probably responsible for a lot of kids looking much deeper into the music.

Rick

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: RangerSteve
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 10:14 AM

I have nothing to add to the above messages, except to say that I feel pretty much the same as everyone.

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Alice
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 09:45 AM

I was very sad when I heard this news yesterday. In the 1950's, my older brother bought an electric guitar, and wrote a letter to Chet Atkins, telling him that he wanted to learn how to play like Chet. My brother received a personal letter in reply, encouraging him to keep playing. What a gentleman and sweet musician.

Alice Flynn

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: GUEST,Whistleworks
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 09:18 AM

I was lucky to have lunch with Chet Atkins in 1990. He told me this story: He was practicing his guitar on the upper deck of a cruise ship as this man, a jogger, passed him by every few minutes. After a few passes, the jogger stopped and listened to him finish a tune. The jogger then said "You're pretty good, but you're no Chet Atkins." Absolutely true. So long, Chet.

Bob Pegritz

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: Fiolar
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 08:47 AM

The first verse of "Ode" by Arthur O'Shaughnessy would seem relevant to Chet, methinks. "We are the music-makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams; World-losers, and world-forsakers, On whom the pale moon gleams: Yet we are the movers and shakers Of the world for ever, it seems." He will be in good company this week - "Good night, sweet Chet."

Subject: RE: Farewell, Chet Atkins....
From: paddymac
Date: 01 Jul 01 - 07:29 AM

I've been just sitting and remembering the great joys brought to us in the jungles of southeast asia listening to Chet's records. At the time, his was the unique sound of home that seemed to reach across the differences and speak to the commonalities of all the guys in the outfit.

It's hard to pick out a "favorite" tune from his vast legacy of recordings, but a piece called "Bo Bo Stick Beat" keeps popping up in my mind. Thanks to the gods for letting us have him here for awhile.