Saturday, 11 January 2003 | Bluegrass

The last evening with my new English friends was spent listening to bluegrass at an Irish pub near NYU. They had never heard of bluegrass. When I suggested the plan to Phil, he asked me to clarify: blueGRASS or blueGLASS? "BlueGRASS," I answered. "Like they have in Florida" "Um...it's music."

It was incredibly informal; we were clustered at a table with our chairs turned out to face the band, which was scattered around the table next to us, and within arm's reach. Within the three hours that we were there, something like 25 people had drifted in and out of the band; at one point I counted 13 people playing at once, and I'm pretty sure the band fattened up after I stopped counting.

From their appearances, it looked as if the band members only had their appreciation for bluegrass in common. A woman in her 40s, with long, stringy hair and a flowing skirt; a young, college-y guy with neatly trimmed hair and a nice voice; an old hefty black man who wore a hat and shades, remained sitting, and appeared somewhat comatose until he broke out in an impressive solo on his banjo; a middle-aged Asian man in a suit and serious hair; a neatly groomed, overdressed woman in her 20s who played the flute; an old man wearing a cowboy hat and a sheriff's star, who played his guitar like Jeff Healey. Every time I looked up, there seemed to be a new member, and one of the others had disappeared, stepping out in the middle of a song to get a drink or to take part in a conversation. They were all singers, and they all seemed to know their respective instruments like body parts.

BlueGRASS. They said they liked it.