POP MUSIC REVIEW : Don Williams’ Concert Runs Still, Deep : Country Singer’s Sedate Performance at Crazy Horse Steak House Is Endorsement for Subtle Pleasures

To those who like their country music on the rough and rowdy side, a Don Williams concert might seem as exciting as watching grass grow. In his 70-minute early set at the Crazy Horse Steak House on Monday, Williams didn’t shout, tell jokes or even rise from his seat. He remained virtually motionless all evening as he segued from one trademark mellow hit into another.

However, just as an intricate, hidden world lies between the blades of grass, Williams’ placid love songs contain a multitude of subtle pleasures. First, there is the deeply satisfying way Williams’ rich baritone wraps around a lyric. Then, there are the lyrics themselves, which Williams sings with total conviction.

Because Williams personalizes everything he sings, all 16 songs in his show, from the opening “Good Ole Boys Like Me” to the closing version of “Louisiana Saturday Night,” were tied together by their celebration of simple country living and family ties. It became clear as Williams’ set unfolded, though, that beneath the outward simplicity and sameness of his material was surprising depth and innovation.

For example, Williams introduced a new song, “In the Family,” from his latest album, “Currents,” that had a rhythmic structure developed with the Bhundu Boys, the Afro-pop group from Zimbabwe who played on the album. “This may be the first country and African song,” Williams joked. In another vein, his recent hit, “Lord, Have Mercy on a Country Boy,” may be the most eloquent indictment yet recorded of the paving over of America.

Most of the numbers in Williams’ set were culled from his 20 years of country hits, but he did slip in a few surprises. He performed a touching reading of “Amanda,” a minor hit for him in 1973 that later became a No. 1 single for Waylon Jennings. He also did “I Recall a Gypsy Woman,” another song from his early years.

Williams talked little throughout his show, but he did stop now and then to poke fun at his ultra-mellow image. “Is the band too loud?” he asked the audience after his first two songs, in a speaking voice as rich and deep as his singing voice. “I don’t want anybody leaving here with bleeding ears or anything.”

Actually, although it hardly reached eardrum-splitting level, Williams’ five-man band was surprisingly overbearing on several numbers. On some of the faster songs, including “Heartbeat in the Darkness,” Williams was almost drowned out by Charles Cochran’s keyboards and Brian Barnett’s drums. Williams is a fine guitar picker, but you could hardly hear his acoustic guitar on most numbers. Bassist David Pomeroy, referred to by Williams as his “dance man,” did manage to keep the volume of his instrument under control, but his constant bouncing around the stage and other inappropriate theatrics were distracting. The band’s discordance with Williams’ subdued approach was particularly surprising because Cochran, Pomeroy and guitarist Billy Sanford have played with Williams for many years.

The most effective and satisfying numbers were the ones in which the band played with the simplicity and restraint that characterize Williams’ style. The band’s light touch on “You’re My Best Friend” helped to make it one of the most touching moments in the show. At one point, even Williams stopped singing and let the audience carry the lyrics.