Although Minnesota has been an occasional Billy Strings destination, it had been a long time since the band had played anywhere outside Minneapolis-St. Paul. You’d have to go back to September 2018 when the then four-piece played the little town of Winona about two hours southeast of Minneapolis. So, it was with some eagerness that locals and travelers alike anticipated the stop in Moorhead at a tiny little prairie flower of a venue called Bluestem Amphitheater, just a few short miles from the Minnesota/North Dakota line.

Bluestem sits nestled along the Red River of the North on grounds shared with the Trollwood Performing Arts School. The surrounding acreage is mostly grassy meadows divided sparingly by stone paths and dotted with small outbuildings – all bordered by long, towering tree lines. There are a few houses in the area but none of John Hartford’s Tall Buildings visible on the skyline in any direction. The campus is managed by the Fargo Public Schools system, despite its location in Minnesota. And the locals treat it like a park of sorts – hiking the fielded areas and walking their dogs. The performing arts focus and public administration are apparent in the management of the venue. The grounds are clean and well-tended to. Venue staff present as friendly stewards of the property rather than enforcers – proactively connecting with concertgoers, offering advice, answering questions and seeming genuinely excited and proud to share their facility with us. All in all, that provided for a unique and charmingly disarming pre-show experience at the second-most northern stop on the tour.

The venue architecture was unique, too. At a capacity of only 3,000, Bluestem is larger than Iroquois Park Amphitheater in Louisville, KY (2,348) – a previous, similarly-intimate stop this summer tour. However, Bluestem feels even smaller than Iroquois. The reserved pavilion area is wide and not deep – wrapping around the stage in a bowl with a gentle upward grade affording clear sightlines. Perched behind the pavilion are ten or so rows of well-elevated, general admission bench seats. Small wedges of lawn with well-manicured grass bracket both sides of the stage and creep all the way up to the rail – one of the more interesting layouts you’ll see in an outdoor venue. The seating area is completely uncovered and thus unencumbered by all the strange reflections a roof produces and that make sound engineering challenging in the typical summer sheds. Only the stage has a covering:  a long, arching wood bridge-like structure with supporting struts. The architecture remains open on both the sides and in the back. The effect is both contemporary and rustic; and there is a very organic feel to how the venue settles in amongst the surrounding grounds. Frank Lloyd Wright would dig it here.

Time and budget can be short on the road. So, decent and affordable venue concessions are always appreciated. And while most venues offer low-grade, overpriced, processed food fit for the captive audience of an airport food court, not so at Bluestem. Instead, we were treated to baked, while-you-wait wood fired pizzas ($10), Walleye sandwiches ($12) and Bell’s Two Hearted Ale tallboys ($8). That’s the kind of fare (and pricing) you’re more likely to encounter at a farmer’s market or county fair. All of this boded very well.  Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about predicting how a show is going to go, it’s that good environments, good staff and good crowds make for good shows. So, our stage was set, if you will.

At a hair past 7:30 local the band hit the stage and we got our opener in Red Daisy. It felt right. This seemed like just the kind of place a gentleman might find (and perhaps lose) his red daisy high on a hill near Fargo. Granted, we were a far cry away from Clinch Mountain, the literal and figural home of the Stanley Brothers, the catalog of which Jarrod Walker drew on for inspiration writing this one.

A very nice banjo run from Mr. Failing got us rolling. Billy’s first guitar solo quickened the pace and Jarrod’s chop kept up accordingly. Some beautiful fiddle fills by Alex with a nice swoop down into the lower register followed. Then a fast, perfectly placed mandolin run took us to the inevitable heartbreaking plucking.

What better way to follow a Stanley Brothers inspired song than with an actual Stanley Brothers tune? Next up: A Robin Built a Nest on Daddy’s Grave, the poetry and imagery of the title alone being like a whole song in and of itself. Again, we get some fine banjo picking here. More great old time fiddling from Alex. And the harmony vocals were tight as they were most of the night.  Lots of concentration on vocal delivery by Billy, especially at the end of lines. One perfectly placed high pitched yelp. And a nice little mando run with tremolo from Jarrod Walker.

After two traditionally delivered bluegrass numbers, Watch It Fall was up next. At times searingly accusatory, this night’s interpretation seemed more contemplatively existential. Perhaps, it was the setting far from the Big Apple and California’s city lights where we romantically imagine life moving at a more measured pace which softened the edges.

It’s nice to hear how the live arrangements of these songs change with the addition of Alex. And the early close accompaniment of fiddle with guitar does make the arrangement of Watch It Fall a little trickier live now. But it worked well. In particular, I appreciated Billy’s understated vocal delivery on this version. We also got a very deft and delicate first solo from Jarrod. And once again exceptional vocals all around. Everything works better when the vocals are tight.

Those making the trip up after a stop in Minneapolis had a sneaking suspicion that the drunkard’s lament, Way Downtown, might stumble in soon. It was sound checked the night prior at Surly Brewing but not played. A traditional number of unknown authorship, Uncle Dave Macon first recorded it in 1926. However, this is clearly the Doc Watson arrangement and the band nailed the pacing and vocals. We got some appropriate Doc-style callouts from Billy to Alex and Jarrod before their solos. And Billy’s solo was fast, clean, effortless and seemed to channel Doc and Merle simultaneously. Impressive in that although father and son were different stylistically, they were sometimes so in sync as to be indistinguishable. It was good to hear this one again. Way Downtown was last played in the tweener duo acoustic set with Bryan Sutton back at night one at the Ryman in May.

Familiar lilting chords announced the arrival of Must Be Seven at near midpoint of the set. It took a little while for this one to get going. Vocals were a bit flat in the first verse and Billy’s first solo was a touch less sure footed than usual. But the band was patient and found a nice groove after Jarrod got things back “on track” just prior to the burial ground verse. At the four-minute mark, the structure dissolved and drifted into a trancey free form jam that, with a little imagination, got into some Birdsong and Dark Star like spaces. Momentum built slowly.  Billy popped out the other side with some speedy runs and then out came the pedals for full on shredding from the 9:30 mark into the setup for transition to the next song, Ole Slewfoot. There were some bright moments and passages in this Must Be Seven. Billy tried to get it there by sheer determination. But it was not the most successful song of the night.

I think a few of the local uninitiated got a bit scared when the Billy crowd erupted at the sighting of those first bear tracks. A small group of older couples near me reacted first with surprise at the crowd response, subsequently with bemusement and then finally joined the chase up the gulley with the band in hot pursuit of Ole Slewfoot. A rousing sing along, this one came on quick and ended as fast.

We needed a little breather after that Must Be Seven extended jam and bear chase. The band took a moment of pause to interact with the crowd and then dropped into the infrequently played A Good Woman’s Love. Written by Cy Coben and first released by Hank Locklin in 1956, it’s more of the New Grass Revival arrangement we get here. Ain’t nobody belts this one out like the fabulous Johnny C. But this was nice to hear in a small venue with an attentive crowd. Some fine mandolin work by Jarrod, too.

It was a desolate drive from Minneapolis up to Moorhead. And late nights and early morning starts on the road can leave one a bit bleary. So, the opening strains of Highway Hypnosis brought a knowing nod and smile for its appropriateness. This has been a very interesting song lately. Always in heavy rotation, the middle sections have become more and more exploratory and, best of all, unpredictable. Bela Fleck once said to me, “you can improvise every night and still improvise the same thing.” That’s the danger with a hard touring band: how do you steer clear of the ruts? The point of departure in this song where the driver starts to detach is where the real unexpected fun starts for me. In this particular version, we get a very interesting passage starting at 4:10 that I’ve never heard before. It sounds almost like the birth of a completely new song.  When your ensemble improv can start doing that instead of just space outs and hot licks, you’re getting somewhere entirely different as a band. As part of that effort, we got some creative and very different on-the-fly vocal effects that I’m assuming were courtesy of Andy Lytle. Exciting stuff.

Always managing set dynamics, the band notches it down a bit here with a sensitive and focused presentation of Love and Regret. We get a big coyote howl on this one. I think everyone was wondering how much of the crowd was Billy fans vs. casual concertgoers. Crowd response (or lack thereof) to the coyote howl line seems to be one of Billy’s litmus tests for indexing fan familiarity in the audience (see Lollapalooza stage comments). Tonight’s response brought a slight grin to his face. In particular this night, I noticed how much Alex’s fiddle playing adds nuance and emotion to this piece.

Another song in heavy rotation this summer has been the Steven Brines and former Bluegrass Boy, Jim Smoak written, This Heart of Mine, first released by New Grass Revival in 1975 and a staple of their live sets. The harmonies were a little loose in places on this version but we get a sizzling lead break from Billy. It’s always good to hear newer bands play NGR – who were among those who trailblazed the progressive bluegrass/newgrass space in the 70s and 80s.

To close out the set we got a nice surprise in Pink Floyd’s Brain Damage, only played eight times including its debut at the 2021 Asheville Halloween shows. The arrangement for this one has really settled in nicely. Propulsively driven. Pure bluegrass harmonies while the melody remains unmistakably Floyd. And that fiddle! This was a good one. Perhaps not quite the near-perfect rendition in Louisville two weeks prior. But why split hairs when you can have both?

Slated for set one and presumably preemptively cut for time considerations was Home. Would have loved to hear it floating in the air of this tiny little space with an attentive crowd. Such a good song to hear when the mix and acoustics are good. And Andy had things dialed in. But alas it was not to be.

A short break by the band afforded us the same with time to mill about and do our thing. Lots of smiles in the aisles and reasonably short lines for amenities and necessities continued the all-around good vibes of the night.

Coming out of the set break, we all hopped on the Slow Train. I’ve seen some voice surprise that this is a Billy original. There’s something timeless and classic about it. Perhaps train songs are just embedded in our collective psyche. Really nice rolling banjo break and tightrope mando solo on this one. And that high-pitched, elevated vocal by Billy in the “cares for me line” took the tops off our heads. Great second set opener.

Typically played about once a month, the defiantly unapologetic and self-deterministic On the Line has been making it onstage more frequently this summer. It brings a different kind of energy to sets and depending upon its delivery can alternately sound like a self-assured celebration of independence or the musical equivalent of the middle finger. We got more of the former here to my ears. But you see it your way. I see it mine (and I’ll be fine). The first fiddle break by Alex is flawlessly on point. Towards the close, Billy drops in a short, repetitive, dissonant ring-the-bell lead that is just oddly perfect. This one pulls into the finish line still steaming.

In a genre rife with iconic prison songs, While I’m Waiting Here is a rather fine piece of writing that I feel is perhaps sometimes overlooked.

“If I could get a word with you, I’d be just fine

or any envelope with both your name and mine

would be enough to keep me going in a world where I’m left knowing

there’s something more to live for just outside.”

That’s some impressive, expanded syntax, internal rhyme, cadence and resolution right there. After being somewhat lesser played following last summer, this one seems to be a more frequent set selection this tour.

Thunder. Oh yes, Thunder. Thunder is an intriguing proposition of a song. Take some relatively unknown lyrics from one of the most celebrated and scrutinized lyricists of all time…who wrote for one of the most listened to, iconic, polarizing and recorded bands of all time. Now set it to music….AFTER his death.  By the way, it’s already been set to music once before by the guy who gave it to you.  NO pressure… 

I love this song. And in my opinion, Billy’s arrangement is far more successful than the original treatment Billy (K) and the Kids gave it many years ago. The phrasing also sounds more like what I imagine Hunter would have done with it based on listening to his solo releases. Kreutzmann must have wanted more from it, too, considering he gave it to Billy after already putting a different arrangement of it on stage years prior.

Thunder has come a long way since its debut performance in May of 21 at Louisville’s Waterfront Park, which clocked in at about ten minutes. This one runs 18:30. We get a full four minutes of intro before the verses and Billy is already peaking out by the 3:30 mark. The words are presented with conviction. And the deftly applied vocal delay makes Billy’s growling delivery sound larger than life, like an admonition coming down from the mountain. The band builds this one up and breaks it down multiple times over 18+ minutes. There’s some interesting guitar strum work around the 7:00 mark that almost sounds like nylon strings. And for a full five minutes from 7:20 to 11:30 we get a gentle, calm before the storm, drifting jam featuring crying fiddle runs that float ethereally over the top. Lightning quick Billy acoustic runs soon emerge and by 14:10 the pedals and effects are kicking in and its full-on shredding until the verses return at 16:40. A slight, forgivable vocal flub follows and then a booming laugh after the “shatter like a jaw” line. From there, it’s a race to the close. A great version of this song alongside many other great versions in the short history since its rebirth.

I always find mid-set placements of Dust in a Baggie interesting. Billy announced this version as a crowd request, which I’m sure it was. But it also happened to be on the setlist in this position. Perhaps someone down front was repeatedly pleading their case. Personally, I prefer this one as an opener or closer rather than mid set. It’s a great song and it continues to be a gateway for people to discover Billy’s music. How many of us first happened along the now famous party video or the Grand Ol’ Opry performance as our first exposure to this music? It’s deserving of its reverence. That said, Dust in a Baggie has been labeled as the “popular” Billy Strings song by some and as such is not the first choice on some people’s set wish lists. That shouldn’t take away from what a nice piece of writing it is. I personally find it more meaningful and affecting since Billy revealed in Louisville that the character in the song is the recently passed, close family friend Brad Lasko. There’s a particularly nice fiddle solo toward the end of this rendition.

Up next is the Jarrod Walker penned, Show Me the Door. Billy always takes his time with this beautiful melody. And this was a particularly patient and poignant performance with some very pretty guitar picking.  Billy’s main lead break here is often Garcia-esque – reminiscent of Jerry’s acoustic playing at the 1980 Radio City Music Hall and Warfield shows documented on the album, Reckoning (also released as For the Faithful).  That’s true this night as well.  Some really nice ascends and descends with lots of color, accents, enunciation and emotion in the solo. Momentum builds to a particularly emphatic delivery of the “born to fall and built to rust” line in this version. This is about as good as they play this one. A fine performance.

Endless possibilities for interpretations of Dylan songs abound with this band. I remember when Drifter’s Escape debuted in Cincinnati and being pleasantly surprised at the choice. Drifter’s was played for the fourth time at Bluestem and it just might be the best version yet. Billy delivers the verses with the urgency and authority of a town crier. The fiddle provides interesting color to the narrative and there are nimble guitar runs a plenty. Coming out of the last verse the band was in perfect ensemble sync – and you could see the satisfaction on Billy’s face as he turned back to face his bandmates and emphatically strummed the final chords.  

Lo and behold is Rank Stranger becoming a setlist staple? Bluestem marks the third playing in the last two weeks at the time of this writing. No complaints. The vulnerable, gospel strains of Billy Failing’s high falsetto are just perfect here – especially in the first instance in the song. Bill Monroe may have been the father of the high and lonesome sound. But it’s hard to get more high and lonesome than the Stanley Brothers’ plaintive Rank Stranger. Why do sad songs make us feel so good?

One of the great things about Billy Strings shows is the juxtaposition between the traditional..and the exploratory and psychedelic. So, after a respectful period of pause, we go from the timeless, traditional and universal Rank Stranger…to the highly personal, immersive and enigmatic ether of Long Forgotten Dream. Sometimes it’s hard to believe this is the same band. This version is wide-eyed, yet focused with a perfect vocal delivery and some nifty mando work.

The Herb and Nikki Pederson written, Old Train, was first released by The Seldom Scene in 1974. But it’s hard to think of a song this band plays that is more evocative of Tony Rice than this one (Hollow Heart, we’ll talk of you another time). I miss Tony. I miss his playing. I miss his voice. And I missed hearing Bela play bluegrass for 20 years because it hurt his heart to do it without the integral, driving force of Tony’s rhythm playing. This song is so close, familiar and comforting to me that it seems like it is played more often than it actually is – only 25 times since 2016 as far as we know (Thanks, BillyBase). This is an excellent rendition as they typically are.

As Old Train’s rusty wheels grind to a stop, we get a jump cut of a transition and are abruptly tossed into Turmoil and Tinfoil. This song moves around a lot in setlist position. But my favorite placement is right here toward the end of the second set. When it’s played in this slot, you just know it’s going to be a lengthy exploration that hurls headlong toward full on freak. Early on, we get some nice flanged out banjo work by Billy Failing from 2:30 to 4:45, his solo entering and coming out the other side of the chord changes. At mid-point, Jarrod slow walks out a spooky, wandering mandolin solo that grows increasingly frenetic, like someone awakened in the night and proceeding to search every corner of the house. Inspector Gadget teases surface as early as 9:40. And we’re in full on tumbling fury by the 12:00 mark. Inexplicably, Billy’s cascading breakneck solos don’t careen out of control. Emerging from the chaos, the good inspector finally arrives on the scene at 13:17, does his dawdlingly, droll dance and then slips back into the shadows. Then it’s a downhill run to the familiar mashed power chord that signals the return of the final chorus. A cathartic, playful, dark, riotous and spectacular version that I’ll revisit many times. A highlight in a night that had more than its share of highlights.

With the specter of the sound ordinance looming, Billy rushedly announces we have time for a quick one and out comes Uncle Pen. Good old Uncle Pen still ambling through the ages. Bill Monroe’s tribute to his uncle was first released in 1950 with the great Jimmy Martin on guitar. Porter Wagoner took it to #14 on the charts in 1956. A slower, loping version was covered by Goose Creek Symphony in 1971. Old and in the Way played it live and it finally made it on to releases of that material in the mid-90s after being excluded from the original 1975 album. Ricky Skaggs’ cover briefly hit #1 on the country charts in 1984. Phish has played it since 1990. And we’re not even going to talk about Goldie Hawn’s version. This Billy Strings arrangement sits closer to Monroe’s (although Bill continually changed arrangements) but with the energy and aggressiveness of Ricky Skaggs’ cover, without the 80s glitz, thankfully. The vocal harmonies are true to the original. And Alex is in his element assuming the role of Uncle Pen, nodding to Red Taylor while making it his own. But it’s Billy’s buoyant and dramatic articulation of the iconic guitar riff separating the end of the chorus from each verse that really makes this band’s version for me. This one will make you go build a barn just so you can have a barn dance.

As much as I would have liked to hear the listed but not played All Fall Down as an encore, it was not to be. And if we had to stop, I suppose this was as good a place to stop as any.

So, with the fading strains of Uncle Pen playing up on the hill, we began the process of reluctantly returning the Bluestem to its peaceful, quiet, natural state. There was a buzz as we exited into the cool night air. And the local fans, the local uninitiated and the touring regulars, which perhaps began the evening as rank strangers, now mixed in file somehow bonded by the experience. We left as we came but different – with brighter eyes and something new and exciting in common.