(Acoustic Disc)
With the latest surge in popularity of bluegrass, it is necessary to take an occasional look back to other recent peaks. The early '60s had Dylan and company exploring the acoustic world and propping up the Guthrie tradition. Though often labeled as folk and quickly accepted, an awareness of roots music grew up with that surge. Bluegrass then went into a sort of hibernation for about a decade. It took the work of Jerry Garcia and David Grisman to breathe new life into it in the mid-'70s.
In 1975 Peter Rowan, Vassar Clements, John Kahn, Grisman and Garcia produced Old and in the Way, a collaboration album of the finest bluegrass musicians of the era. It galvanized support for the genre and carried it forward for a few more years. Over a quarter of a century later, a new album attempts to capture that almost forgotten moment. A little more arthritic but a little more polished as well, Clements, Rowan and Grisman have returned with Old and in the Gray. This album works as a tribute to itself but must acknowledge its age with some replacements.
Of course, Garcia had to be replaced and somebody needed to step in for the late John Kahn. Herb Pedersen stepped up to pick up Jerry's pick and sing while Bryn Bright took up the upright bass. Though both fine musicians in their own right, the challenge of slipping into the band remained.
The problem with trying to recapture the moment is that the moment has gathered dust and cannot shake it off. Old and in the Gray plays up their age a little too much and ends up going back and forth from songs of youthful dreams and others that are meant for those in their twilight years. Middle age is all but forgotten in exchange for acknowledgements of creaking fingers trying to play quickly.
The band takes off on \Childish Love"" with considerable energy but ends up facing the memories about which only old men can reminisce about. They sing, ""You left me in this world alone/ Your childish heart I could not win/ You tore apart our happy home/ Childish love will always win."" This old Ira Louvin song seems to take on more of an aged feel than it should, sounding more legitimate than it was meant to.
The next track, ""Victim to the Tomb,"" gets to the dirty business of saying farewells and thinking about grieving tears. Old musicians talking about old musicians passing away brings a certain amount of somberness to the otherwise light feeling of the album. Though not entirely out of place, it still produces a sort of uncomfortable moment when Grisman, Rowan and Clements bottom out their voices on the word 'tomb.'
Though a welcome bluegrass album created by a crew that knows the music thoroughly, Old and in the Gray has its share of drawbacks. Pederson's banjo deserves a little more time and the album suffers because of it. The cover of ""Honky Tonk Women"" comes off like the completed stunt that it is. Old and in the Gray was made by old guys with plenty of experience and they seemed content to let the experience do the work.
(Mark Williams)
It seems as though bluegrass is making a legitimate comeback. The genre, which never wandered far from its usual pickin' and strummin' roots, has rounded itself out and gained a significant following in recent years. Granted, the revival can be pinned on the ""O Brother, Where Art Thou"" phenomenon, but a single movie and its accompaniment cannot alone wake up an entire style of music. What seems to have happened is that it brought out the sleeper cells of music, dredging out the regional bands with a mandolin and talent.
One of those more obscure bands to gain momentum from the bluegrass revival is Cast Iron Filter. Their recent live album, Live from the Highway showcases the Americana-tinged work of bluegrass devotees. Though they occasionally drift off into some jams and let themselves go on with some Grateful Dead-like improvisation, their core sound is that of the expressive mandolin. Just short of rock, but not quite twangy enough to drift into country, Cast Iron Filter holds to bluegrass.
Fronting the band is Dustin Edge on vocals, guitar and harmonica. His voice seems to roll on like an old truck, a little out of tune but still dependable. It has a bit of mileage on it but can rumble when necessary or coast when needed. Backing Edge is Mason Bissett on bass and drummer Tim Helfrich. Though sometimes distracting to the work on strings and typically underutilized in bluegrass, Helfrich's addition is welcome. The anchor of the band comes from Mike Orlando on banjo and mandolin.
Though the bluegrass sound is refined, the lyrics often wander too far into gunslinger glorification and dirt road blues material. In ""27 Dollars and a Wedding Ring,"" the storyline of the song plays out like a rural desperado. Edge sings, ""We been waitin' for this time to come/ To use our pistols and chance it on the run/ Cuttin' right through the darkness of the night/ And all we got is 27 dollars and a wedding ring."" Though the intention of a backwoods escape is there, the cliched metaphor of darkness fails to make it convincing.
Similarly, ""Hawkeye John"" falls victim to this temptation. ""Hawkeye John"" talks big but ends up dead in a duel by the time the song is out. Cast Iron Filter wants to create some gritty legends complete with pistols but never quite makes their characters rough enough. They seem to be more content to get on the run than to hold their ground.
The saving point of the album comes at its conclusion on ""Louisville, KY."" Essentially a tribute to all things back home, it yearns for all the comforts not of just being home but getting there. The song is loose and relaxed, but not too laid back to sound worn down.
All in all, Live From the Highway promises more than it can deliver. While the instrumental side of the album charms and rolls on easily, the lyrics could use a little less rural mythology. The gunslingers and highwaymen seem a little to weathered to fit Cast Iron Filter's style. This group puts forth a satisfying effort and, given a little more time, could be a major player on the bluegrass scene.
