'Old Crow' medicine cures what ails the 9:30

The Old Crow Medicine Show, a bluegrass six-piece band based out of New York City, knows how to put on a show. In the years before they were signed to a record label, the band traveled the country as street performers. They cut their teeth the way they were meant to cut: On the hard life of modern-day minstrels. During this time, the band honed their driving bluegrass style, becoming incredibly tight and exciting performers. The band didn't hold back at their show last Wednesday at the 9:30 club. During their two 45-minute sets, they kept the intensity up with smoking tunes like "Fall on My Knees" and "Hard to Love," and didn't lose a soul in the room when they showed their slower side, with ballads like the touching "We're All in This Together" and crowd favorite "Wagon Wheel." The stage was wonderfully crowded and busy with the six member band, armed with a rotating cast of acoustic instruments, including banjos, dobros, guitars, upright bass, fiddle and harmonica. Between some songs, the members switched instruments, which always makes a show interesting. Main guitarist and singer Willie Watson added to the stage antics when he broke a couple of strings, quickly re-stringing his guitar mid-song. Fiddler, harmonica player and singer Ketch Secor's mock slime-ball salesman banter got the crowd fired up throughout the show, dubbing his band mate "The Fastest String Changer this side of the Chesapeake Bay." Secor's fiddle is a major driving force of the band. He plays with great intensity, probably going through multiple bows per night after shredding the hairs to bits during each song. The whole band plays with an admirable intensity. Bassist Morgan Jahnig, banjo and dobro player (whose ballads "Big Time in the Jungle and "Take 'Em Away" were other highlights of the show), Critter Fuqua, gitjo (a six-string banjo tuned like a guitar) player Kevin Hayes, and a guest banjo and dobro player kept the driving rhythms so crucial to bluegrass. They didn't talk much, opting to blend in and let the more vocal Secor and Watson do the talking, but they did very well, contributing to both the mystique and energy of the show. It's easy to picture the OCMS as a street band. Secor's between-song banter was reminiscent of old showmen, keeping the audience's attention focused and energetic. In some respects, the band would probably have been more at home on some street corner or carnival rather than in the cavernous 9:30 club. The 1,200-occupancy club has a tendency to suck up the sound of more intimate acts. The Old Crows played with all acoustic instruments, opting for a more natural sound. It was a good idea, but unfortunately because of that some of the sound was lost. Also notable at the show was the lack of dancing. While there were a fair number of mid-week drinkers, no one got down as much as the music insists. But this may be more due to the venue than to the band's performance. If the show was in a smaller room with sound more conducive to picking up un-amplified instruments, everyone in the crowd would be have been letting it all hang out like they all knew they wanted to. The Old Crow Medicine Show proved that the fire of bluegrass is still burning in the hearts of a younger generation. After they cleared the stage, the band left nothing but true believers and a large pile of bow hair.