Gilmore’s Substantial Worth

Jimmie Dale Gilmore has built a substantial reputation in the roots-music world by singing about such literally insubstantial things as spiritual aspirations and philosophic quests.

But that was some pretty substantial stuff the skinny, 51-year-old Texan and his robust young band laid down Wednesday night at the Coach House--as in chunky, solid, meaty music with a palpable, rocking kick.

Best of all, the hefty numbers didn’t intrude upon Gilmore’s famous ethereal loveliness. This is a man whose parables can flutter toward the great beyond in a voice that’s like a cross between Willie Nelson and a seraph.

In a well-balanced show that included every song from his customarily strong latest album, “Braver Newer World,” the surprisingly earthy heft of the rockers complemented songs that distilled moments of contemplative beauty and quiet yearning.

Gilmore is noted for having studied under the guru Maharaj Ji before belatedly launching a career as part of the accomplished guild of Texas folk-rock-country troubadours that includes his boyhood buddies Joe Ely and Butch Hancock.

An extremely likable and sweet-natured host, he clearly enjoyed playing to that Zen cowboy image. Introducing a crunching version of Townes Van Zandt’s “Buckskin Stallion Blues”--a song he recorded with the heavy-rocking Seattle band Mudhoney in one of the stranger cross-genre pairings in recent memory--guru Jimmie Dale G. gave a wry little lesson to an audience of some 200 enthralled grasshoppers.

“This is a blues song and a rock song and a country song and a folk song and a grunge song,” Gilmore explained with sunny gentleness. “It’s every song in one. It’s mainly a beautiful song. Now it’s a loud song. But you can hear the silence in it if you listen real closely.”

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Mainly what we heard was the musical equivalent of kung fu initiates chopping boards, as the band hit with a brawny, countrified throb. Gilmore’s interest in muscle was apparent from the opening number, “Headed for a Fall,” and, soon after, in a romping blues-boogie run through his memorable oldie, “Dallas.”

That high-energy approach surfaced periodically, peaking at the end with “Outside the Lines.” On the new album, it’s a Sir Douglas Quintet throwback complete with beeping Vox organ; on stage, the number was a vibrant rocker, with Rob Gjersoe’s slide-guitar wailing complemented by Mary Cutrefello’s bright, slashing chordal guitar licks.

Through it all, Gilmore sang the song’s proud declaration of no-borders individuality, showing, as he did at several points in the concert, that, ethereal crooner though he may be, he also can deliver a song in sharp, tensile tones backed with plenty of force.

“Braver Newer World” is a departure for Gilmore, as producer T-Bone Burnett set aside typical roots-music measures in favor of an experimental approach that brought in such garage-rock and Beatles baroque touches as fuzz-tone guitars and old-fashioned Chamberlin and Mellotron synthesizers.

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Operating without keyboards or synthesizers, Gilmore and band evoked some of the album’s spacious textures by using sparse tambourine and sand-shaker rhythms on some of the quieter songs.

The record’s spirit of sonic surprise was captured in such numbers as “There She Goes,” in which the sound from Cutrefello’s distorted guitar splattered wildly, like spume from storm waves hitting the breakers, while Gilmore sang of an enchanting woman, using an almost vaudevillian croon.

The gorgeous “Come Fly Away” was much stronger live than on record, where it nearly suffocates in a wrapping of aural gauze. On stage, “Come Fly Away,” with its high-lonesome lap-steel guitar and Gilmore’s near yodel, captured a lovely stillness, one of those moments of contemplative yearning and aspiration that will always be Gilmore’s signature.

The derby-clad Gjersoe played most of the guitar leads, including those expert lap-steel sighs, well-suited to some of Gilmore’s evocations of quests through high plains and open spaces.

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But Cutrefello, an Austin blues-band leader who is moonlighting in Gilmore’s touring lineup, made a strong impression in her own right. Given a song in the spotlight, she proved that, even though she has the look of a dreadlocked, bushy-haired Tracy Chapman or Joan Armatrading, she has the roots-rocking flair of a Joe Ely.

Her song, “Dreamers Walk Alone,” was a mixture of wafting Drifters-go-to-Mexico R&B; and pop-aware blues. Cutrefello, a willing trouper who yodeled and growled to get her song across, built it up to a strong climax, leading the way with her own steely toned soloing.

The highlight of the encore was Gilmore’s solo rendition of “Sally,” a luminous ode to honesty and self-reliance. On a night when Gilmore marshaled his capable young troops to give his music a fine kick while also doing justice to its loveliness, the only thing missing was a full, satisfying helping of his art in its simplest, distilled form.

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We’d praise second-billed Alejandro Escovedo at length, but we already did that in May when he headlined at the Coach House. Raised in Huntington Beach but long based in Austin, Escovedo, with the aid of his band, once more offered a distinctive, accomplished interweaving of chamber music (a prominent cello and violin) and rumbling, Rolling Stones-style rock on songs that speak of loss and regret. His two most recent albums, “Thirteen Years” and “With These Hands,” are both excellent.

Shadowhawk, an Orange County folk duo, opened. Jeff Beauvais’ baritone voice and dark-hued, traditionally grounded melodies held promise, but neither he nor his laid-back partner, Jim Reeves, who leaned toward Jim Croce-style folk-pop ballads, was able to project the songs well enough to establish a strong presence and draw in an audience.