Ralph Stanley dresses like he’s going to church, and sings like he’s whispering in God’s ear. Chances are if any earthly voice could get the big guy’s attention, Stanley might have the inside track–if only for the timeless bluegrass records he cut with his brother Carter in the 1950s.
At Schubas on Sunday, the 72-year-old legend–dapper as usual in a tie and cowboy hat–led the latest incarnation of his Clinch Mountain Boys through a gently intense hour of music that suggested the distance between heaven and hell is a lot shorter than anyone might think.
In Stanley Brothers songs, children die tragically, men die like dogs, and dogs howl at the blue moon. Carter and Ralph Stanley were Appalachian mountain boys who were already harmonizing with eerie poignance when they first heard the driving bluegrass of Bill Monroe.
They never looked back, and the Stanley Brothers’ recordings still resound with a haunted beauty–even while in the thrall of some earthly pleasure, the brothers’ voices suggested they knew it was only temporary.
Indeed, Carter Stanley died at age 41 in 1966. Ralph Stanley has continued to tour and record, and his Clinch Mountain band–named after the area in Virginia where the brothers grew up–remains an incubator for top-tier talents such as Ricky Skaggs and the late Keith Whitley. But it’s never been quite been the same without Carter, and the weight of his years seemed to hang heavily on Ralph, who looked frail in the second of two concerts Sunday, deferring to his band for most of the show.
With James Price on fiddle and James Shelton on lead guitar, the Mountain Boys zipped through a mix of solid, if unremarkable, originals that served primarily as vehicles for the eight-bar instrumental breaks that are bluegrass’ lifeblood. There were also passable stabs at “Orange Blossom Special” and Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues.”
Jim Lauderdale, a superb Nashville-based songwriter and the opening act, sat in on one tune, but his presence would have been welcome on a few more numbers, given the excellence of his recent recorded collaboration with Stanley, “I Feel Like Singing Today.”
Still, the soulfulness remains. Though his three-fingered banjo playing was relatively muted, Stanley still possesses a tenor that could gently tear out any listener’s heart.
With son Ralph Stanley II taking most of the baritone leads, the elder Stanley swooped over the top or answered his son with plaintive cries, particularly on the timeless “Rank Stranger.” And sometimes his mere presence was enough to send chills, as when his son took on “Mary, Merry Christmas,” a deathbed farewell written by Carter Stanley to his wife.
“You’re young enough to start anew,” sang Ralph, while his father silently watched, surrounded by friends and fans, yet very much alone.
