Bobby Albright, guitar picker.

Local songwriter leaves unfinished melody
MIKE ARGENTO

Mar 2, 2006 — Bobby Albright caught the bug as a young'un.

He started playing the guitar when he was in elementary school in Henderson, Nev. His folks, Jack and Phyllis, played country music, and Bobby took to the stage as a kid, performing with his folks' band, the Nevada Ramblers, in dance halls and saloons out west. They played at the old Golden Nugget in Vegas in 1971, the last band to play at the old hotel/casino before it was remodeled.

Bobby wound up in Texas - Lubbock - where he played with more than a few bands. One of his bands, the Texas Hot Shots, played a lot around Lubbock and elsewhere in Texas, often opening up shows for more established artists. They hit the road in the '80s and traveled all over, playing gigs and sleeping in the car. It was a rough life on the road.

He was performing at a joint called the Matador in Anchorage, Alaska, when one of his tunes, "Slow Nights," caught the ear of a friend of Mel Tillis. The next night, the pal brought Tillis to the show. Tillis liked what he heard and asked Bobby for permission to record the song. Bobby granted it, and Tillis recorded it, with Glen Campbell in a supporting role, on his album, "New Patches."

It wasn't that big a deal for Bobby. In fact, he really didn't talk about it a lot. He was just a country boy who picked the guitar and tried now and then to write a pretty good country song. He was always pretty modest about his talent and his level of accomplishment. He wasn't one to brag on things or try to call attention to himself. He was just a good old boy from out west who made his way east.

He was a phenomenal guitar player, one of those guys, like the late great Chet Atkins, who made strangling pretty melodies from six strings look effortless. The notes flowed, and his playing was always tasteful and fluid.

He wrote a bunch of great songs and recorded more than a few of them. Other folks also recorded his tunes, among them one called "I Remember Julie" recorded by The Maines Brothers, one of whom is the father of Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks fame. He recorded some other folks' songs. His daughter believes his version of "Blue Eyes Cryin' In The Rain" is better than Willie Nelson's. He used to play Ray Wiley Hubbard's "Redneck Mother" before it was a moderate hit for Texas singer/songwriter Jerry Jeff Walker.

He saw a good bit of the country through the windshield of his car, traveling wherever someone would pay to hear him and his band play.

He had some health problems over the years, and being a typical guy, he didn't fret over them until they became issues. He had kidney disease and high blood pressure and complications from both.

He retired from the road in '92. His sister and dad had moved to York Haven around that time, and Bobby came off the road to join them. His dad was in poor health, and Bobby took care of him.

For a number of years, he operated a coffee shop in the West Manchester Mall and later managed the Kofee Grinder in the Colonial Park Mall in Harrisburg.

And he kept pickin' at the guitar, recording a bunch of his songs in his home studio in Etters and occasionally venturing out to open mics and jam sessions.

It was at one of those jam sessions that Bobby met the guys who were Blind Joe Death, his last band. (Full disclosure: The guys in Blind Joe Death are pals of mine.) Blind Joe Death was looking for a guitar player, and Bobby was available.

He'd never played blues in his life, but he took to it easily and made it look, like a lot of his guitar playing, effortless. The band played bar gigs and the occasional festival and recorded a CD of blues tunes. It didn't perform any of Bobby's music. He didn't write blues; he wrote country.

Bobby grew to love playing the blues, and he loved hanging out with other musicians. To a casual observer, he was the old guy on the right side of the stage. But to anyone who listened, he was a monster guitar player. His daughter recalled once, when they were out shopping, he was looking for the wildest Western shirt he could find - a real cowboy number with pearl buttons and all that - to wear on-stage with the blues guys.

Of late, his health wasn't the best. He was in and out of the hospital. His heart was giving him problems. His kidneys had filed for divorce, and he required dialysis to stay upright.

He took some time off and visited his daughter, Neva Brown, in Vegas. All of the neighborhood kids would come by, and he'd play the guitar for them and teach them some things. He was a good teacher, a very patient man, and kids liked him because, well, he looked like Santa Claus with his white beard.

Probably one of the last times he played the guitar with some other folks was at a Super Bowl party at the home of Dr. Mo, the bass player for Blind Joe Death and a pal. We sat around and played before the game and again at halftime - missing the beginning of the second half in the process - and again after the game. We played a bunch of his songs, good country songs with Bobby singing in a baritone voice that simply ached.

As it got later, Bobby said he had to get home to hook up to his dialysis machine. He didn't look so good, washed out and tired. Still, his playing and singing were impeccable, and he kept wanting to play one more before heading home.

A few days later, he was in a music shop, reaching for a guitar when he thought he slipped a few discs in his back. He got to his car and got home, but wound up in Hershey Medical Center. He had some other problems - stomach and other things - and was undergoing emergency surgery when he died.

He was only 60.

In the hospital, he told Dr. Mo he had one regret. There were a lot more guitars he wanted to play and a lot more music he wanted to make. He thought he'd have time. He didn't.

Some songs, country songs, blues songs, don't have happy endings.

Mike Argento, whose column appears Mondays and Thursdays in Living and Sundays in Viewpoints, can be reached at 771-2046 or at mike@ydr.com.