Memphis Commercial Appeal
By Bill Ellis
ellis@gomemphis.com
August 9, 2002
Some may have simply cried ''Oh brother!" waiting in I-55's long traffic line that led to the DeSoto Civic Center. Once inside, it was a different tune.
Many tunes, in fact, as the coolest acoustic tour going, "Down from the Mountain," played to a packed, appreciative house of 5,902 - the center's first sell-out - on Wednesday.
The three-hour-plus, star-studded concert is a live revue built around the best-selling O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack and subsequent Ryman Auditorium show in Nashville, released on video and disc as Down from the Mountain. The grass-roots phenomenon, which finds the O Brother album still at No. 3 on the country charts after a remarkable 87 weeks and 6 million sold, has leapt into the history books for succeeding with virtually no airplay or marketing push.
Certain things can point to its good fortune: the rise of Americana as a viable music format; a rejection of the cookie-cutter attitude prevalent in today's pop and country genres; a post 9-11 reaffirmation of our national identity via tradition and authenticity. When all is said and done, however, O Brother connected to so many people because it's plain good - music that's pure, honest and passionate. And that cuts across all demographics. Even Saliva's MTV-nominated star singer Josey Scott was in the DeSoto audience for this one.
Of course, the irony is that something so nonstrategic on paper has become the hottest ticket in town, to the point that other labels and booking agents have jumped on the bandwagon, from the rival "Jamgrass 2002" tour to the coming "Will the Circle Be Unbroken Vol. III" album. Yet when Ralph Stanley becomes a household name, life has taken a wondrous turn for the better.
Still, the best is usually always the first, and the Grammy-sweeping assembly that made O Brother shine was in full force at DeSoto, including Stanley, Alison Krauss & Union Station, Emmylou Harris, Chris Thomas King, Norman Blake, the Whites and the Nashville Bluegrass Band. Among those who joined them: Patty Loveless, the Del McCoury Band and Ricky Skaggs. It's no overstatement to say the concert was as sublime as acoustic music gets.
Hosted by Rodney Crowell, the song-packed evening ran from earthy blues to hair-raising gospel to lots of that high lonesome sound, bluegrass.
Favorites from the O Brother album were given highlights. Bluesman King, who portrayed Tommy Johnson in the Delta-shot movie, did his moody rendition of Skip James's Hard Time Killing Floor Blues, while Loveless joined Harris and Krauss for the a cappella gem Didn't Leave Nobody But the Baby, and Crowell became the elected performer of In the Jailhouse Now. Blake picked a heartfelt You Are My Sunshine with wife Nancy Blake and played, in lieu of the late John Hartford, Big Rock Candy Mountain.
Union Station member Dan Tyminski slipped into his Soggy Bottom Boys role as the voice of George Clooney in Man of Constant Sorrow, a song reprised at night's end by Stanley, who first recorded the tune back in the '40s with the Stanley Brothers.
Stanley got his turn as well, delivering a chilling, melismatic-filled version of Oh Death (and somewhere Dock Boggs is smiling the wickedest of grins to see that old-timey number become a hit).
But each artist had time away from the soundtrack to do their own thing, which meant fiddler Krauss got to show why she and her band Union Station keep winning awards for their unbeatable ensemble work, and Harris gave the region a languid kiss in Miss the Mississippi and You (found on her recently reissued bluegrass landmark, "Roses in the Snow'').
Break it up any way you like and the thrills came minute by melodious minute.
Bluegrass chops were in abundance, whether from dobro giant Jerry Douglas, the blazingly solid Del McCoury Band (who have made Richard Thompson's Celtic biker ballad 1952 Vincent Black Lightning a new bluegrass staple) or Ricky Skaggs and his band Kentucky Thunder, whose three-song set was the most jaw-dropping music of the night. With a fire in his fingers and a traditionalist's soul, vocalist and mandolin player Skaggs, pushing 50, has all but taken on the elder statesman role once reserved for his mentor Bill Monroe.
Even more than the playing, however, the singing - especially the harmonizing - put listeners in Appalachian bliss. The Peasall sisters did the sweetest I'll Fly Away, Krauss and her band became a shape-note choir on Down in the River to Pray, and Harris joined the Whites for the mountain classic Fair and Tender Ladies.
"Doesn't it do your heart good to know this music is alive and well?" asked Crowell from the stage.
Yes. Yes it does, indeed.