Liner notes:

Molehill was a tiny Piedmont North Carolina community down the road a piece from Gutney Sputney (affectionately known as Gutter Splutter) and only steps away from Possum Walk. these individualistic rural red clay retreats now lie in anonymity, paved over and devoured by Charlotte.

Ages ago, in the day of the horse and wagon, a highway of wood planks once ran from Charlotte to Winston-Salem and beyond. Today, it too is paved over and exists only on road sign markers and memories.

Clyde Williams lives down on Old Plank Road in Molehill and it was at his warm home we met one crisp October evening in 1969 to play music. Clyde had been fiddling all his life at dances and get-togethers from Newton and Catawba, NC, to Molehill. He was a lot older than us -- about 47 -- we in our 20's. We honored him as the grand old man of old time music and as an unlimited repository of fiddle tunes.

He learned in the '30's by listening to and remembering the Grand Ol' Opry fiddle bands on radio -- Dr. Humphry Bate's Possum Hunters in particular. This band personified what Clyde felt fiddling was all about. East Tennessee music was different stylistically and dynamically, according to him, and he was in constant search for musicians who could play and satisfy his memory of how it should be played.

Clyde was a good teacher and instructed us how to play forcefully with great drive yet retain tonal sensitivity. "You don't want to just tickle the strings like most pickers!", he would admonish. "And don't be crashy, play loud -- but clean!" "Play leap rhythm and don't forget the extra chord!" All essential ingredients incorporated to make the Molehill sound.

We would gather around the big oil stove in the living room, musicians closest to the fire and Clyde's mother, two sisters, their children -- a dog and several cats would be our attentive and appreciative audience. There was a 3-D sort of picture of Jesus on the wall whose eyes would follow you regardless of your position in the room.

"Play 'Liberty,' Clyde!", the momma hollered and would beat out a rhythm on Mexican maracas as we played. The evening wore on, the music got hot and so did the room. The ladies would call for a break and served pineapple upside down cake they had baked and iced cold Cheerwine (a Southern cola). "Rest period's over!" Clyde would command and the music continued 'til after midnight. It was not uncommon to play one tune for over a half hour all the while bringing it to a boil.

Clyde wildly improvised the melody and caught up in the spirit of the thing would bellow a loud "Yuh!" of approval and hit hotter licks with his bow (some never to be repeated again.) It was not uncommon for the Highlanders to holler out such cryptic phrases as, "I like this part!", "Ain't it sweet?" or "I hear bagpipes!"

By the Spring of 1970 the Molehill Highlander band performed at many fiddling conventions throughout NC and VA and won 1st or 2nd prize at them all. In those days Union Grove, NC, was the prestigious event to go and we won 2nd band there. Often times we beat bluegrass bands in competition when there wasn't an old time category available. Boy, did they get ticked!

Here, recorded in Nature's own outdoor studio May 17, 1970, is music from the Old Plank Road by the MOLEHILL HIGHLANDERS.

I went over to Clyde's house recently -- I hadn't been there in years. It's still tucked away down on Old Plank Road but new avenues lead to it. The area is unfamiliar. His mother has long since passed away, the sisters re-married and gone, their children married and have children and the place was sadly quiet. A cat jumped off the sofa almost knocking Clyde's fiddle case over and the picture of Jesus, still hanging on the wall, looked at me from across the room.

Jim Scancarelli, 1993