I went to see the Avett Brothers last night. During the show I got kind of bored with the obviously theatrical set-play posturing of the “punk bluegrass” thematic elements, but over all and in retrospect, I really dug what they were doing. Pretty good musicians, above-average songwriters. I’m quite unclear on the addition of the cello to the band, though. That should be a fiddle there, doing those parts. Unnecessarily extravagant and distracting.

However, as The Wife notes here, I couldn’t help but be impressed by the size and the enthusiasm of the crowd in Dallas at a show by relative unknowns who’ve never appeared on the teevee or have any kind of Jessishliegh Simpson connection. There were an untoward number of jam-band potheads from Plano sporting ridiculous dreadlocks and completely unnecessary bandanas, but I’ve got to give them their due respect — they were out on a schoolnight supporting good, original music. That’s a step in the right direction.

The Bad News: I can’t tell you how many crosseyed looks I got trying to explain the appeal of the Avetts to normal American Idol people over the last two weeks. That bugs me, but I accept it. It’s taken me 47 years to realize that my cup of tea isn’t everybody’s cup of tea, but I still must insist that the world would be a far better place if it were.

Added to note that this young father joined us for the show, and was thoroughly enjoyable. We talked some serious hockey talk, which is always good for a flatland Southwesterner like me. I’m looking forward to his review of the clambake.