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Natural High
Singer hits a new peak with bluegrass collection
By Michael McCall
MARCH 1, 1999:
Last year, Steve Earle approached the Del McCoury Band and asked the
celebrated bluegrass outfit if they'd be interested in making a record with
him. Once the group agreed, the singer-songwriter told them he'd begin
writing songs for the project and let them know when he was ready. "I
figured that maybe a year or two from now, we'd get started with it,"
mandolinist Ronnie McCoury says. "But, man, next thing you know, he's
calling us and saying he has the songs written. It was unbelievable how
fast he wrote 'em--and they're all good songs too."
Earle shrugs when he hears this praise. "I write all the time," he says,
adding that he takes the same get-on-with-it approach to making records. "I
don't understand the concept of someone taking four or five years to make a
record. I want to make one so I can make another one. I lose perspective if
it takes too long."
His work ethic is evident: The Mountain is Earle's fourth album
since 1995, when he finished a prison sentence for drug possession. Sober
since his release, he has directed his obsessive personality into what he
does best--making records. Besides his own albums, he and business partner
Ray Kennedy have produced several others, including recent efforts by the
V-Roys, Cheri Knight, Jack Ingram, and Bap Kennedy, along with Lucinda
Williams' Grammy-nominated Car Wheels on a Gravel Road.
Coproduced by Earle, Kennedy, and Ronnie McCoury, The Mountain
was largely created live in the studio, making it the fastest album session
of Earle's career. It was also the most challenging. "These songs were
harder for me to perform than any song I've ever written," he says. "I'm
just now getting good enough to barely think about making a bluegrass
record. It's something I've always listened to--bluegrass has been a
component of my music for as long as I've been making records. But doing a
whole album this way was really pushing the outside of the envelope for
me."
The challenges were manifold, he explains. "Bluegrass works best at the
top of whatever your [vocal] range is, so I had to pitch the songs higher
than I usually do." Beyond that, the only time Earle had used a banjo or
fiddle in his music had been on "I Still Carry You Around," a song he
recorded with the McCoury Band for his 1997 album, El Corazon.
But for all the challenges Earle faced in the making of his new record,
the greatest is yet to come, since it remains to be seen how audiences will
respond. The album will likely surprise both Earle's fans and the bluegrass
faithful. After all, bluegrass is buttoned-down and formalistic, and Earle
is about as unbuttoned and unrestrained as a musician could be. But the
brash singer-songwriter has already excelled at a variety of musical
styles, and his new album proves he can be as substantial at traditional
mountain music as he is at redneck rock, modern country, or unfettered
folk.
Even so, The Mountain is far from a straight-down-the-line
bluegrass effort. Earle's distinct style comes through clearly, but he uses
the acoustic instrumentation to conjure up the rawest, most elemental
feelings inherent in the material, which ranges from murder ballads to
acoustic blues to tender love songs. The singer grants that The
Mountain won't likely be his best-selling album, but, he argues, the
music will endure--just like the best bluegrass records. "All I have to do
is keep it in print, and it will sell forever. It won't sell millions of
records tomorrow, but it will always sell," he says, adding wryly, "and
I'll always be able to pay alimony with it."
Though he plans to make a rock record next, Earle contends that The
Mountain won't be his last bluegrass album--"unless I'm tarred and
feathered at some bluegrass festival this year," he wisecracks.
Some members of the bluegrass audience may in fact be wary of Earle's
entrance into the genre, especially given that he refuses to adhere to
certain bluegrass dicta--particularly in terms of his image. "There are
those who are protective of bluegrass as a family-style music," says Dan
Hayes, executive director of the International Bluegrass Music Association.
"But bluegrass people are more open-minded than they're given credit for.
In Steve's case, I know his love and respect for the music is genuine. Once
the fans see that, he will be welcomed and embraced. If it was perceived
that he was doing it for anything other than heartfelt reasons, he indeed
might be tarred and feathered."
Regardless of how the core bluegrass audience responds to his own
innovations, Earle recognizes that the music has a much further-reaching
influence. Not only did it have a hand in the birth of rock 'n' roll, it
still influences young listeners today. "All these kids in bands like Son
Volt and Marah, they all listen to bluegrass a lot," he says. "They all
know who Del McCoury is. And they all identify with it directly because
they realize instinctively that bluegrass is the original alternative to
commercial country music. It is the original alt-country music. From
the get-go, it was about guys more devoted to their craft and to their
music than to being famous or getting on the radio. And along the way they
created an alternate world, an alternate lifestyle, an alternate reality to
the commercial country mainstream."
For this summer, at least, Earle will join the alternative reality that
is the bluegrass world. In fact, the scruffy singer--who once stopped
cutting his hair because an MCA executive told him he needed to be better
groomed to make it in country music--has trimmed his hair for his upcoming
tour with the McCoury Band. Not only that, he'll even dress in a suit.
"I'm going to be having big fun," he says. "Besides, Del would look
terrible in a black T-shirt."
The next generation
When Steve Earle asked the Del McCoury Band to collaborate with him, he
knew he was getting arguably the best bluegrass band working today. As this
uniquely American music enjoys a creative and commercial resurgence, the
McCourys are riding the top of the wave.
Talk about being connected: The band is in the midst of some major
activity that should bring even more attention to bluegrass music. In
addition to Earle's The Mountain, which came out this week, they've
just released their own stellar collection, The Family. The album
came out on Ceili Records, a label owned by Ricky Skaggs, who released his
own bluegrass album, the outstanding Ancient Tones, last month.
To get a sense of how highly respected the McCoury Band is, just ask
Earle and Skaggs. Each man offers the highest possible praise, comparing
these five musicians to the most important band in the history of
bluegrass: Bill Monroe's classic lineup featuring Lester Flatt and Earl
Scruggs.
For the band members, who own a stoic come-what-may attitude common
among bluegrass players, the attention is exciting, but they're not quite
sure what to make of it. "It does seem like there's more work for bluegrass
bands right now, but it's hard to figure why that is," says Del McCoury,
the 60-year-old patriarch of the band, which includes his sons Ronnie on
mandolin and Rob on banjo, along with well-regarded bassist Mike Bub and
fiddler Jason Carter.
"I always liked this music, from the first time I heard it. To me it's
the only kind of music there is. So I'm probably not a good judge of why it
goes up and down." Ever since the first time he heard Scruggs decades ago,
Del McCoury says, he has been hooked. Not even the advent of rock 'n' roll
changed that. "With Elvis, I wasn't sure what all the girls were so fired
up about," he remembers.
Ronnie chimes in, adding, "Dad's always said that Elvis was for the
girls and Earl was for the boys." These days, the McCoury Band serve much
the same role for young players of their own generation. They might play
acoustic music, but they attack it with the fiery intensity of rock 'n'
roll.
While traditional at heart, the Nashville-based quintet looks for good
songs wherever they may find them. The new album, for instance, includes a
cover of the Lovin' Spoonful's pop classic "Nashville Cats," which shows
off their instrumental chops, and a cover of Bill Monroe's "Get Down on
Your Knees and Pray," which shows off their great harmonies.
Live, they accentuate their connection to bluegrass tradition by
performing in front of only one microphone, with band members stepping
forward to perform solos or to harmonize. "We like it because that way the
sound can be as natural as possible," Ronnie McCoury says.
The lack of amps also allows for traveling light. Even today, they still
hit the road with only Jean McCoury--Del's wife and Ronnie and Rob's
mother--joining them on the bus. Del does most of the driving, while the
family matriarch handles concessions sales. "Mom likes the money-to-hand
thing," Ronnie says with a laugh. "It really is a family operation."

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