It may only be February, but it seems safe to say we've already seen the most successful tour of 2002 to be headlined by a septuagenarian. That would be ''Down from the Mountain,'' the mobile version of the smash ''O Brother, Where Art Thou?'' soundtrack, which has been playing to sellout crowds in hick-town halls like Radio City Music Hall and, this week, L.A.'s Universal Amphitheatre.
Each night, the multi-artist bill is climaxed by a mini-set from 75-year-old bluegrass king Ralph Stanley. He may be a golden oldie, but in the world of hillbilly music, of course, everything is relative: Introducing ''Girl from the Green Briar Shore'' at Universal, Stanley offhandedly mentioned that the tune originated ''before my time,'' and he wasn't even trying to be ironic.
Most of the music performed over the course of the three-hour show was in fact written by dead people, but a sizable audience looking for an alternative to today's inherently ageist, teen-centric pop doesn't seem to mind heading that far in the opposite direction. The ''O Brother'' soundtrack has been certified four-times platinum by the RIAA and listed as one of the 10 bestselling albums of 2001 by SoundScan.
The phenomenon has not escaped the notice of Grammy voters: While ''O Brother'' itself has four nominations (for Album of the Year, plus in three country categories), its sequel, the live album ''Down from the Mountain,'' is up for best contemporary folk recording; instigator T Bone Burnett is seen as a likely winner for Producer of the Year; and several artists associated with the endeavor are nominated for their own projects. With that in mind, it was easy to view this Universal Amphitheatre show as the unofficial opening party of the L.A. Grammy season, and certainly the pre-awards bash most proudly open to gray-hairs, on and off stage.
There were enough contemporary references in the patter, if not the music itself, to establish that no one was exactly trying to party like it's 1929. Alison Krauss enthused about her trip to Universal's theme park earlier in the day, especially singling out her excitement at meeting Spiderman, who, she said, is ''stacked.'' Emmylou Harris remembered ''the place when it didn't have a roof on it'' (that is, prior to the '80s) ''and in keeping with that, I'm gonna sing a song I recorded when I was still a brunette.''
Host Bob Neuwirth, the folkie who introduced all the acts and sat in a comfy love seat at stage right while they played, interjected the occasional topical note, introducing Norman Blake's version of ''You Are My Sunshine'' as including ''the rarely heard fourth verse that cements its reputation as the world's greatest codependency anthem.''
But a lot of the show's vintage songs showed that the old-timers had little time for codependency when they were so fixed on heaven and hell. There were a couple of murder ballads, including Stanley's take on ''Pretty Polly,'' a bloody ditty that established long before Nirvana that girls named Polly just are not destined to fare well in the popular songbook.
And, of course, there was gospel up the wazoo. The preteen Peasall sisters reprised ''In the Highways,'' the sprightly spiritual the diminutive threesome performed in the movie. ''Angel Band,'' an old Stanley Brothers version of which is heard in the film, got a group-sing here, with Emmylou Harris, who once recorded an all-gospel album of that name, joining in. Stanley led a call-and-response version of ''Amazing Grace'' at evening's end.
It was Stanley's climactic appearance that really reinforced how doggone fleeting his and everyone else's appearance seemed. We'll soon get more of his ragged-but-right Americana, as Burnett has just finished producing a Stanley solo album. If you live in a major city, you may soon get more of the whole lot of 'em, as the tour is reportedly set to resume on the amphitheatre circuit this summer.
You can hardly blame anyone involved for wanting to milk the moment, before bluegrass and pre-Nashville country inevitably lose their sexy ''O Brother'' sheen and return to the status of marginalia. The audience was in a celebratory mood, sharing in the incredibly unlikely triumph of having this music burning up the charts, but there was a valedictory undercurrent, too, knowing the fluke won't likely be repeated, and that we shan't see Dr. Stanley's likes again... at least this side of ''O Death,'' to cite his new signature song. But -- oh, brother! -- is this underdog victory sweet, while it lasts.
