D D Wood

In the aggressive 1990s, one of the rarest delicacies in pop music is delicacy itself. The Innocence Mission from Lancaster, Pa., is a rock band out of its time. Its music does not explode with impulsive bursts of feeling, sinewy declarations of purpose or raw cries of alienation. No, the Innocence Mission, which plays tonight at the Coach House, is almost always meditative and deliberate.

Robbie Allen and D.D. Wood have been pushing forward with their separate rock careers, but Monday night they paused and hit the rewind button for a fond look back. For sentimental reasons, and to do a bit of loose, unpretentious rocking, the two singer-songwriters re-formed their old band Gypsy Trash for the first time since 1989. The 40-minute performance at the Blue Cafe showed that some things do get better with age.

It's hard not to be disappointed when a blue-chip performer like Emmylou Harris releases her best album in years, then rolls into town and gives it short shrift in concert. Then again, it's hard not to be completely taken with a concert by a blue-chip performer who, as Harris did Tuesday at the Coach House, arrives in high spirits, displays an easy sense of humor and fun, and gives a generous and satisfying accounting of her talent.

There wasn't a hint of slickness in the Texas Tornados' show Tuesday night, except maybe Doug Sahm's shiny brown gambler's suit. The music and presentation were nothing but earthy and unpretentious as the veteran all-star foursome of Tex-Mex musicians opened a three-night run at the Coach House that winds up tonight.

Willie Nelson is so craggy and furrowed and trail-bitten under his trademark bandanna that you might think he once rode with Kit Carson or Buffalo Bill. Leon Russell's thick mane and beard of white are now of patriarchal proportions. He looks like a good candidate to be cast as Methuselah in a biblical epic.

A couple of things to keep in mind regarding these lists of my favorite things of '93: First, I didn't hear every worthwhile album or concert. Listed are the best I happened to come across. Second, my own pleasure is the sole criterion I use in compiling lists of favorites. I don't care what music was deemed "important" by the rest of the pop cognoscenti. I don't give extra credit for music merely because it serves as a document of its times or defines an influential trend.

To have and have not was the theme of two recent local-band showcases at the county's two flagship concert clubs. In Orange County rock, the haves and haves-in-waiting almost all play some variant of punk rock, metal, ska or post-Nirvana hard rock. That company includes the Offspring, Korn, No Doubt, Sublime and several other bands that have record deals or big grass-roots followings, and therefore a reasonable belief that the rock 'n' roll dream might be within reach.

It's looking as though Paul McCartney will bypass San Diego on his upcoming U.S. tour, which is scheduled to begin in mid-April. McCartney will tour in support of his new album, "Off the Ground," scheduled for a January release.

Who, at this time a year ago, could have predicted that: * The Soviet Union would be as dead as Elvis? * The general public would come to understand "Kurds" as something other than a word appearing in the same rhyme as Muffet and tuffet? * Enraged Guns N' Roses fans would almost re-create the last scene of "The Day of the Locust" in a St. Louis amphitheater? * An unglamorous band named Nirvana would be promoted to rock 'n' roll Valhalla (or at least the Top 5)?

As 1993 arrived, the Orange County music scene showed signs of coming into full bloom at last. Instead, it turned into a disastrous year for most local venues. The final, and worst blow--the early December closing of Bogart's in Long Beach--leaves the grass-roots music scene foundering without a focal point. As we approach a new year, O.C.