and we may have a Mike Seeger video around here. It's my wife who enjoyed Mike and Peggy for their old songs and especially those for children. That's the stuff that my kids grew up with...poor kids. When Mike died, I went to Amazon and bought several CDs for my wife and do recall one or more dealing with various banjo styles. He must have been quite the entertainer when working small and intimate venues. I could swear we had a video somewhere. I'll ask her later.
banjo styles that might be of interest to you. All the old pre-bluegrass forms are covered, Claw Hammer, Up Picking etc, and besides its always nice to see the late Mike S. singing traditional songs. Essentially he discusses the style, sings the song and then demonstrates the banjo style in a manner so slow and so clear, even I can follow it. (And I wrestled with Pete Seeger's banjo instruction book until I wanted to burn it).
Did you ever hear him do that cockeyed variant of Mother Maybelle Carter's song Wildwood Flower? Terry Stafford, the writer of novelty songs like The Streak messed about with Wildwood Flower, making use of the preferred growing matter of the day, the late 60's.
I found Terry's version called the Wildwood Weed online, but I've reconstructed it in the version I heard Mike sing, and accompanied him so many times. If I wasn't playing he made me turn my back to him when he was on stage because I was mouthing along with the words, and we'd both get confused. Same thing used to happen with the Arkansas Traveller. "Rob, you're going to have to stop it, you took the words right out of my mouth."
Well the wildwood flower grew wild on our farm
And we never knowed what it was called.
Some said it was a flower and some said it was weed
But we never give it much thought.
One day I was out there talking to my brother,
Reached down for a weed to chew on;
And things got fuzzy then things got blurry
And then everybody was gone.
When I come to my brother Bill was there
And he asked me what was wrong with my eyes?'
I said, "They's glassy from chewing those weeds'
An he thought he'd give it a try'
We spent the rest of that day and most of that night
Just a lookin' for my brother, ummmm, Bill,
Come morning we found him swinging there singin'
On top of the old windmill.
Now all good things must come to an end
and it's the same thing with our weeds,
One day this feller from Washington he come by
And he turned white as a sheet
And he dug and he burned
And he burned and he dug
And he tore up all our nice little weeds
Then he drove away and
We just smiled and waved
Sittin' there on that sack of seeds.