INDIO — "Do you guys out here like the real, hard-core, traditional bluegrass music?" Jamie Dailey, of the fast-picking band Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver, inquired Sunday afternoon at the Stagecoach Festival here. Those gathered at his feet roared back: "Yes!"
The Appaloosa Tent was only half full, but the devotees absorbing this venerable group's gospel hymns and instrumental breakdowns acted like a multitude, as happy as the throngs yelling for Kenny Chesney, Brooks & Dunn and Sugarland on the main stage.
On the second day of this inaugural country music confab at the Empire Polo Field, a criticism had arisen in the media and among some fans: The big stars were obliterating everyone else. To see if that was true, I decided to spend the day elsewhere. (But I broke my rule to see Gary Allan, my favorite Top 10 country-rocker. He satisfied, kicking dust over everyone else who aspires to that role.)
I heard spine-tingling music, devoured by enthusiasts. Yes, most ticket-holders unfolded their lawn chairs and stayed put where Chesney would finally appear, but supportive contingents plunked down to enjoy a day of bluegrass, western music or "alternative" country.
If anything, the last category suffered most. John Doe, the punk elder statesman, played a strong set peppered with exciting new material in front of a crowd that would have been bigger at Coachella. Same for Neko Case the night before. Such artists don't adhere to any one line, and since country is often about choosing sides, they ended up in an unfortunate middle.
Others benefited from subcultural attachments. The singer and banjo player Abigail Washburn, who just might be the next Alison Krauss, led a crack quartet that included the banjo great Bela Fleck, connecting bluegrass to Chinese folk music, gospel, hot jazz and blues. The Flatlanders, the all-star band from Austin, Texas, gallivanted through some mighty honky-tonk art-rock.
Being an \o7eminence grise \f7helped. Kris Kristofferson, alone with his guitar and his worn-leather voice, melted hearts delivering classics such as "Sunday Morning Coming Down." He also sang an antiwar song, perhaps the most overt political statement of the festival, making his point without any bravado.
Emmylou Harris followed Kristofferson with a hushed set occasionally drowned out by a boot-scootin' Brooks & Dunn. Beautifully rendering signature songs such as "Goin' Back to Harlan," Harris was a modest royal, unfazed by the noise of commerce nearby.
