HOLLYWOOD, Calif. — At an under-publicized show

Friday at the House of Blues,

COLOR="#003163">Chris Hillman,

COLOR="#003163">Joe Ely,

COLOR="#003163">Flaco Jimenez,

COLOR="#003163">Charles Musselwhite and

Bill and

COLOR="#003163">Bonnie Hearne reprised

material from the recently released album The I-10

Chronicles.

The disc celebrates the varied cultures and musical spirits that

have evolved along the geographic fields divided by Interstate 10,

which starts in Southern California and ends in Florida.

The "celebration" aspect of the album translated smoothly to the

stage — in spite of some technical glitches.

Backed by a versatile five-piece band that included album co-

producer/guitarist Randy

Jacobs and percussionist

COLOR="#003163">Lenny Castro, Bill and Bonnie

Hearne gave a robust reading of the album's opener,

COLOR="#003163">Guy Clark's "L.A. Freeway"

— a guaranteed crowd-pleaser in this town.

Bill Hearne then told the audience, "I've been in this crazy

business for 30 years listening to these guys, and now we're

gonna play with 'em."

Playing With The Guys

"These guys" turned out to be the well-tanned, mandolin-toting

former Byrd Hillman;

his Desert Rose

bandmate Herb

Pedersen, whose own musical roots include an early

stint performing with bluegrass innovators

COLOR="#003163">Lester Flatt and

COLOR="#003163">Earl Scruggs, pedal steel player

par excellence J.D.

Maness, who also played on the Byrds'

Sweetheart of the Rodeo, and Texas accordion legend

Jimenez.

Artists on the album but absent from the show included

Willie Nelson,

Emmylou Harris,

Los Lobos'

David Hidalgo,

Counting Crows

vocalist Adam

Duritz and Buena

Vista Social Club member

COLOR="#003163">Eliades Ochoa.

Buoyed by the Dobro-playing Pedersen's pure-toned harmonies,

the onstage crew delivered a shimmering version of "New Mexico

Rain," which Hearne dedicated to the recently fire-scorched

Southwest.

The respectful affection the crowd felt for the music and the

players was almost palpable.

Technical And Other Difficulties

Unfortunately, Bonnie Hearne's lovely voice was drowned out by

the band — and the sound mix only got worse.

It wasn't as much of a problem for braided-ponytailed singer

Sarah Nicole, who

received simple support from Pedersen; singing "He Don't Care

About Me" (

XXXXXX/0251250_0105_00_0002.ra">RealAudio excerpt) in a

bold honky-tonk voice, she sounded even more effective than on

the I-10 record.

The brief but soulful set by much-idolized blues harmonica master

Musselwhite was marked by minimum vocals and maximum

grooves. But when he and Jimenez matched each other lick for

lick during an extended instrumental jam on

COLOR="#003163">Santana's "Black Magic

Woman," it was as frustrating as it was fun. Jimenez's accordion

was largely lost until the end — at which point he exclaimed

"Wow-ee" into Musselwhite's mic.

Sultry vocalist Meredith

Marshall, after singing backup for Musselwhite,

stepped forward to sing "Across the Borderline" accompanied by

Jimenez, Castro and a mandolin-playing Hillman. She had stage

presence to burn and a commanding, well-controlled voice, but the

poor mix muddied her rich lower tones. Nonetheless, it was one of

the more affecting moments of the evening, as the deliberate

arrangement and Marshall's emotionally focused performance

magnified the song's power.

Maybe it was their formidable bluegrass chops or maybe it was

just hometown advantage, but Southern California boys Hillman

and Pedersen's performances were the tightest and most

inspired, and their exciting, three-song set was the only one to

shine through the sound murk.

Night Of Celebration

Maness' pedal steel cut sharp and sweet and Jimenez and

Maness swapped riffs as Pedersen sang lead on a conjunto-

flavored swing through "Save the Last Dance for Me." The

supportive audience cheered when Hillman, by way of introducing

"Ashes of Love," said, "We used to have a band called the Desert

Rose Band."

His fine harmony blend with Pedersen was a clean, tightly wrapped

weave. Even more appealing was the feeling that the players

found joy in the material, which they cheerfully transmitted to the

responsive crowd.

The main dance floor immediately began filling up when Joe Ely hit

the stage, clad in black jeans and a western shirt with a red

bandanna around his neck and strumming a black cutaway

acoustic guitar. Ely's good humor and warm, rough-hewn growl

were comfortably suited to "Smack Dab in the Middle," "Saint

Valentine" (

XXXXXX/0251250_0104_00_0002.ra">RealAudio excerpt) and

"Are You Listenin' Lucky."

Jimenez's melodious accordion imbued the songs with earthy

spirit, and the audience ate up Musselwhite's fat, extended solo

on "Smack Dab." Clearly enjoying themselves, the players dug

into the rhythms and made the songs rock much more than they

do on I-10. Ely gave guitarist Jacobs room to take a loud,

showy solo that spiked the energy of band and audience alike.

Unfortunately, there were a few local artists added to the bill

whose talent didn't compensate for the awkward fact that they

seemed to be performing for an entirely different show. Only

singer-songwriter Garrison

Starr registered with any real conviction.

And then, abruptly, it was over. Expectations were high for more

— much more, at least another half-hour — but when the

band left the stage a voice came over the house loudspeakers

advising everyone to vacate the main floor so the club could set

up for the late show. Filing past the rubber-suit and cell-phone

crowd lining up outside, the devoted fans who'd just been

delighted by some of the truest guardians of the roots-music

flame were clearly flummoxed to find they were being cleared out

of the House of Blues for some sort of dance rave.