a very late post about del

The Del McCoury band continues to be my favorite -- not just in bluegrass, but anywhere. I love listening to these guys (even their new kids' CD, Little Mo' McCoury, rules, despite a few missteps). But the live experience is something extra special, something that you need to remind yourself about by attending a Del show at least once a year.

Dave Reimer, a bass player in Blacksburg, Va., first turned me on to the band about the time of their Cold Hard Facts album. We saw them perform at a high school in Craig County. Five guys. One mic. They wove around that mic then as they do now, as if they're dancing around the May pole. The show I saw last month at the Wolftrap reminded me of the Craig County show for a few reasons: it was comprised almost totally of requests; and the band remained extremely tight while giving off the loosest on-stage persona of any band I've ever seen. Nothing seemed preordained. They were playing in that room, that night, for me. I've seen so many bands over the years where they give a single shoutout: Hello Roanoke! (Or Austin, or Washington, or Columbus). And that's the only time they veer from script, the only time they acknowledge that they're in a different city than they were in the night before. Not so with Del, who seems so happy to be standing on that stage, playing with his sons (along with fiddler Jason Carter, who must be like a son by now, and Alan Bartram, who replaced Mike Bub on bass a couple of years ago). Their music combines old and new. It has a history and it has an edge. And every time I see the play, I go home smiling.

The Wolftrap show is being turned into a live album, despite Ronnie losing his voice, which will be put out on the band's own label (check out mccourymusic.com). A label means that, creatively, they can do pretty much anything they want. But it seems that's what they've been doing for a long time now. And it works.