“A Night Of Contemporary Bluegrass” read the posters touting the Jerry Douglas Band’s performance at the Strand Theater in Rockland, ME on 8/17/08.
They didn’t know the half of it.
You had to figure that there were very few (if any) people in the Strand that evening who knew nothing of the band’s repertoire and bought a ticket based only on the poster. And even if there were newcomers to the JDB’s sound who came for the ‘grass, there were definitely moments that would’ve made Bill Monroe smile. But a quick peek at the set list beforehand put anyone on notice that there were some other directions on the route map that evening, as well: “From Ankara To Izmir”, “Cave Bop”, and “Sir Aly B” might give you a clue that we weren’t just hangin’ around on the front porch with Uncle Pen tonight, buddy.
To be fair about it, for the posters to describe the Jerry Douglas Band’s sound in proper detail, there wouldn’t have been room for any art – and the text pretty fine print … it was probably just as well the way they were.
The bottom line: no one left the Strand disappointed.
One thing that was clear from the first song of the evening on: though this is Jerry’s band, it certainly isn’t a matter of faceless sidemen in the shadows backing the spot-lit star. Douglas was very generous in passing the lead around; he’d be absolutely beaming while Luke Bulla broke your heart with a violin solo or Todd Parks laid down one of his swooping bass lines woven in with Chad Melton’s drums. And when guitarist Guthrie Trapp (Douglas’ nephew, as it turns out) ripped into a lead, look out: all hands made room as Trapp stalked the stage, his steely facial expression looking as if he were defying any given laws concerning dexterity and physics. It was almost a relief to see him smile between songs.
A pre-recorded synth line preceded the band’s arrival on the darkened stage. Douglas’ down-home greeting of “Hello, everybody” as he plugged in his Beard dobro was like a friendly pilot’s announcement at the beginning of a flight – or a space commander’s casual air just before he kicks in the afterburners. Sure enough, Douglas laid down a few breathy dobro wails over the spacy background tones and Guthrie Trapp began a fierce, cascading guitar line – we had liftoff.
Fresh off Douglas’ brand-new album, Glide, “Unfolding” was a neat showcase for everyone to stretch out and warm up their fingers over Chad Melton’s stop-time drumming. In between repeat visits to the main theme, the band took turns with the lead: Parks tore off a beautiful bowed bass solo (fitting with Edgar Meyer’s writing credit on the piece), while Trapp kept the tone of his seafoam Tele jazzy and friendly. Douglas and violinist Luke Bulla each took a solo, then joined forces with a twin-lined lead that soared.
“The Wild Rumpus” followed, a playful romp Douglas wrote to offset the nightmares that the children’s book “Where The Wild Things Are” caused his kids. (“I read it to them as a bedtime story,” he said. “It doesn’t work.”) Trapp wasted no time in laying down a blistering flat-picked acoustic solo, answered in turn by Bulla’s violin. Douglas followed with his own spiraling solo which led back into the main theme and a “Birdland”-like ending.
Trapp introduced “Hide And Seek” with a rippling riff that Douglas’ dobro sang over – the easy drift of the song’s opening moments gave way to a full-fledged porch stomp led by drummer Melton, then back to a plaintive-sounding acoustic Trapp solo. Another visit to the front porch was followed by a pretty violin break by Bulla – then Douglas took the lead with one more trip to the porch for a refill, followed by his own sadly-sweet take on things.
“We’re warmed up now,” Douglas deadpanned to the crowd’s cheers. “It takes us that long … we don’t practice.”
The title track off the new album commenced with a Celtic-sounding intro by Parks and Bulla. Douglas wove in on top and established the melody, then handed things off to Guthrie Trapp, who kept things gentle. All hands joined in at the end and the song – well – Glided to a finish.
A tribute to the troops was next: Route Irish, named for a road that runs from Baghdad Airport to the Green Zone – referred to by some who have driven it as “the most dangerous stretch of highway on earth.” Douglas’ lead was beautiful, but there was an air of constant tension beneath it. The song wound its way into a progression reminiscent of the Allman Brothers’ “Whipping Post” with Trapp’s Tele chasing Douglas up the neck to the road’s end. There was actually a momentary silence as the last notes faded … a lot of thinking and feeling in the hall.
The mood swung to that bluegrass thing that we talked about earlier, as Luke Bulla took the mike to sing lead (and lay down some classic fiddle) on an old Bill Monroe song, “Sweetheart Of Mine, Can’t You Hear Me Calling.” Trapp chicken-picked his way through a lead after the first verse, with Bulla and Douglas raving it up after the second –and Trapp darting back in for one more rip.
Typical of the night, we quickly went from Kentucky to Turkey with a trip “From Ankara To Izmir,” Douglas’ ode to a goat-filled bus trip. Midway through the mountains, drummer Melton let loose on a wild break, followed by a savage plucked bass solo by Todd Parks. Douglas stood to one side, smiling, shaking his head, and adding little accents to Parks’ runs up and down the fretless neck.
Where does a song title like “Emphysema Two-Step” come from? Well, the sound that a Cajun accordion player’s instrument made at the end of the night when it went into its case – a wheezing gasp – was referred to by said player as the “Emphysema Waltz.” “I ripped him off – took advantage of him,” admitted Douglas to the Strand audience, his head hung, trying not to grin. “I stole his idea and put a tempo and a melody to it … and called it the ‘Emphysema Two-Step’.” There was a slight pause. “Nice talkin’ to ya.” Off they went, rolling and tumbling over each other – with that original accordion wheeze tucked away in the middle of the rollicking tune.
From there it was a natural segue into “a tune by that famous bluegrass band, Weather Report,” quipped Douglas. “I think Bill Monroe would’ve liked Weather Report if he’d ever listened to them … I doubt that he did, though … he and they played a lot of the same notes – just not in the same sequence.” In a solid display of versatility, the band eased into “A Remark You Made”, a piece off Heavy Weather written by saxophonist Wayne Shorter. A great moment: following a violin solo by Bulla, the song took a breath – then Douglas and bassist Parks returned to the main theme … gently building it back up as the rest of the band folded into the mix and took the song to its conclusion.
James Taylor handled the vocal chores when “The Suit” closed Douglas’ album Lookout For Hope; on this night at the Strand Luke Bulla did a great job of telling the tale of the Nebraskan farmer who needed a suit to be buried in. Douglass wove around the lyrics with his dobro, Bulla’s violin joining him for a few moments toward the end of the song.
“Pushed Too Far” is a tune familiar to those who have followed the JDB’s live shows, but hadn’t been recorded in the studio until the Glide sessions. Douglas introduced it as a song he wrote with guitarist Russ Barenberg for a contest – which they lost, by the way. Tonight, though, “Pushed” was a winner: exploding out of the chute with a flurry of dobro, the song sounded like a theme to something grand. Douglas handed the lead momentarily to Trapp and Bulla, but, for the most part, the tune was a primer in what makes Douglas the king of the resonator guitar. Though he’d let fly with rippling runs, it was just enough notes to tell the tale – taste never sacrificed for speed. (The sound at the Strand was exceptional, by the way – the acoustic instruments never lost their character, even on the more powerful numbers.)
From 1998’s Strength In Numbers album (a one-time super session with Sam Bush, Bela Fleck, Mark O’Connor, and Edgar Meyer) came “No Apologies.” “Edgar Meyer and I wrote this together after losing arguments with our wives,” Douglas noted, shaking his head. “Great – we recorded it … it’s there forever.” A mix of slow, sad, sway and acoustic white-boy-funkiness, “No Apologies” didn’t come across as the work of bitter men at all – with a different title, it could have been presented as a love song just as well.
And then things got a little weird: “I wrote this next song in Telluride,” remembered Douglas. “It was after the festival and I was sitting around with a bunch of my friends. This hat was being passed around with something in it and somebody said ‘Here – eat one of these things.’ So I did. It was kinda chewy – and I ate another one … that night, I had some really strange dreams.”
We were about to enter the world of “Cave Bop.”
The music that came next was the perfect soundtrack to Douglas’ nightime vision of Charlie Parker in a satin purple suit hanging out with a leopard-skin-clad Fred Flintstone: Melton and Parks laid down a classic bebop foundation while the band just took off. We left the Strand in Rockland, ME – hell, we left 2008: we were in a jazz club on 52nd Street in New York in the 40s … only a dobro, a violin, and a Telecaster replaced the horns. Luke Bulla peeled off a solo that Stephane Grappelli would applaud, followed by a warm-toned Tele tear by Guthrie Trapp. The beat backed off, got totally hip for a moment … you could almost see the thick two-in-the-morning cigarette smoke in the air as Todd Parks bopped a bass line (give that boy some dark glasses!) that was nothing but cool. Douglas, who had been laying back with little rhythm chops while the band tore things up, suddenly emerged from the haze with a quote from the Flintstones theme – and the moment was busted wide open into total goofiness and crazy jazz runs. Wham – crash – bang. The song ended as Jerry’s dream had – leaving the audience laughing, clapping, and wondering: “Did they just play what I thought they played?”
Another new song from Glide followed, “A Marriage Made In Hollywood” – a tale of a junkie’s fateful quest for his 15 seconds of fame. Luke Bulla handled the vocals once again while Douglas and Trapp pushed the song’s melodic tag line.
The set concluded with “Choctaw Hayride”, a chance for the band to revisit their bluegrass roots. The up-tempo foot stomper saw the lead tossed from dobro to fiddle to guitar and back to the dobro: Bulla played classic hoedown fiddle, while Trapp blazed through a jazzier-sounding lead; Douglas was, well, Jerry Douglas. At that point in the evening, he could’ve played anything he wanted and it would’ve been perfect.
The band left the stage to a standing ovation, but Douglas returned on his own in a minute or so. “Thank you very much. It’s very dark back there,” he said, pointing backstage, “and I’d rather take my chances out here with you.” Plugging his Beard back in, Douglass glanced over his shoulder: “I guess those guys didn’t come out with me, so I’ll play you a little solo tune.”
Launching into an unfamiliar piece (“This is something I wrote a long time ago – and there’s parts of it I don’t really like anymore … I’ll let you know when I get to ‘em”), Douglas came as close to showing off as he had all night – but not really. Hearing him switch gears as the solo changed tempos, intensity, and mood, you realized what a great bandleader Jerry Douglas is. While the man is capable of playing any style of music he wants on a six-string resonator guitar, he has built a team of musicians who all contribute to the package – rather than just a supporting cast to the star.
A glance over the shoulder was the cue: the band reemerged from backstage as Douglas began a raga-like riff; Bulla and Parks joined him with backing drone tones, things fell into place … and we slowly drifted into the Eastern-flavored melody of “Sir Aly B.” On this night, the album closer from Best Kept Secret was like a neat mental rubdown before sending us home.
The gentle ride of “Sir Aly” had hardly faded when Chad Melton started a steady, driving beat and – wham – Douglas slammed out the opening lick to “Patrick Meets The Brickbats.” The night wasn’t ending without a fight, for sure. Sticking pretty close to the arrangement from Lookout For Hope, the song featured blazing flatpicking from Guthrie Trapp and one more high lonesome fiddle solo from Bulla. Things spun back to Douglas and he took the song out with a blast of fingerpicking that made the front rows wince. One final spiral toward the ceiling and it was over – the Jerry Douglas Band had done the kind of thing they do best: plenty of ‘grassy moments between visits to the far corners of the world … not to mention a dream world where Charlie Parker and Fred Flintstone hang out.
It was a great trip.
