POP MUSIC REVIEW : California Doesn’t Let the Bluegrass Grow Under Its Feet

When a band is founded on instrumental expertise, there is a danger that it will proudly rev its engine while forgetting to make sure the tires are in solid enough shape to carry it through the race.

The bluegrass band California packs plenty of string-driven horsepower into a small chassis, with fiddle dynamo Byron Berline serving as the chief piston. Fortunately, the four-piece group also tended to its tires in its early show Friday night at Shade Tree Stringed Instruments. Undergirding the concert was a strong foundation of expressive songs, sharp singing, and easy-flowing humor, ensuring that the show didn’t drift into a mere technocratic display of flashy instrumental technique.

In addition to fiddling so rich and free that one didn’t so much listen to it as bask in it, California’s show revolved around a strong singer-songwriter presence, bassist Steve Spurgin. The former Orange resident, now based in his home state of Texas, showed a sentimental streak as a songwriter, but he complemented it with a vocal approach that was sturdy, direct and tuneful, and therefore free of melodrama and sappiness.

Spurgin excelled during a ballad segment early in the show. “Kodak 1955” was a sweetly melancholy tune about sifting through old snapshots that conjure memories of lost loved ones and vanished small town ways. Instead of bringing a sob to it, the apple-cheeked singer carried it off with an even voice and a sparkle in his eyes that reflected the pleasure of memory along with the pain of loss.

“A Walk in the Irish Rain,” one of several new songs culled from an as-yet-unreleased album, brought a Celtic glow into the cozy Shade Tree. With a nice mixture of sentimentality and gaiety, Spurgin sang the role of a sailor whose voyages are ended, reuniting him with his lover for good.

Berline also sang a few bluegrass chestnuts in his homespun voice, and guitarist John Moore contributed some original songs, including “California Cooler,” a wry tune about an inveterate slacker living the idle life of a beach bum. It was fairly obvious stuff and a bit awkward for recessionary times. But some good laugh lines, some pliant use of his thickly mustachioed visage, and a chunky, mock-rock beat helped Moore put the song over.

Berline, Spurgin and Moore were a well-matched harmony trio, singing flawless unisons on several up-tempo numbers.

For the most part, California concentrated on keeping things light. Songs with heartbroken themes, including “Speak Softly (You’re Talking to My Heart),” a 1982 Gene Watson hit co-written by Spurgin, subdued the pain with pumping rhythms and sprightly solos. There was plenty of easy banter between band members, with the prominent shape of Moore’s Adam’s apple emerging as a running visual joke.

While levity was in keeping with the group’s collective personality--the jibes all seemed natural--it would have made for a better-rounded evening had California briefly dipped into some darker, bleaker moods.

A version of the country weeper, “Faded Love,” was more sweet than sorrowful (it featured singing and Dobro soloing from Skip Conover, a member of Berline’s ‘70s band, Country Gazette. He sat in for the second of the show’s two 45-minute sets, mainly providing low-key embellishments).

Berline brought an infectious sense of fun to his fiddling. Like the fiddle played by the protagonist of “Uncle Pen,” a Bill Monroe oldie included in the show, “you could hear it talk, you could hear it sing.”

And you could luxuriate in the exceptionally rich hues Berline’s playing produced. He offered sweetness, swirling playfulness and kinetic attack--sometimes all three at once. Not one to hold in his pleasures, Berline would let out whoops and do little jig steps as he played.

His longtime banjo partner, John Hickman, served as a laconic foil to the boisterous Berline. Hickman mainly supplied reliable, churning rhythms. But when he and Berline stepped out on a couple of racing duets, he matched the fiddler’s nimbleness and speed.

Guitarist Moore’s solos favored rapid, glistening rainwater runs that displayed a consistently light touch. Actually, that lightness was too consistent. Some heftier guitar textures could have filled out the sound and challenged the dominant fiddle presence. In that sense, California missed fifth member Dan Crary, the brilliant Fullerton-based guitarist who was absent (with leave) while on a solo tour.