It wasn’t until I started reading about Crooked Still that I realized how boundary-pushing the band’s music was. Up to that point, all I knew was that I liked it. A lot.

I would characterize the band as bluegrass, but the elements that made it resonate more than typical bluegrass are the things that make it so forward thinking, blending the discipline and flow of chamber music with the fire and precision of bluegrass. Has the term “chamber-grass” been coined yet?

The group’s fourth album, Some Strange Country is  a revelation. I have listened to a bit of bluegrass, but certainly am no expert. Hearing the album, I was struck by the notion that this was the successor to Alison Krauss and Union Station. There’s the jaw-dropping instrumental prowess, the reverence mixed with adventurousness, and, of course, that voice. If anything, Aoife O’Donovan’s vocal instrument is more impressive that Krauss’; it is certainly its equal.

What sets the group apart is its instrumentation. There is Gregory Liszt’s banjo instead of a mandolin,  the cello of Tristan Clarridge instead of a guitar, as well as the more traditional bass from Corey DiMario and fiddle of Brittany Hass. The banjo gives the songs a sense of urgency, as on the surging “The Golden Vanity,” while the cello lends a mournful quality to songs like the stellar cover of the Rolling Stones’ “You Got the Silver.”

All of this combines to create music that is traditional and fresh at the same time. The virtuosic performances will captivate, and the spirit will keep you coming back. If the rest of Crooked Still’s catalog is this solid, I have a lot of catching up to do.

You would think I’d have learned by now that making assumptions without further investigation can keep one from experiencing the sweeter things in life. Another example of my musical myopia can be found in the person of Carrie Rodriguez.

When her new disc, Love & Circumstance, showed up in the mailbox, I (foolishly, it seems) let it quickly work its way to the bottom of the to-be-listened-to pile. I mean, she was the eye candy side player to Chip Taylor, a marginal folk singer with the 40-year-old hit “Wild Thing” under his belt, right? What could she offer?

I’m glad this disc finally fought it’s way to the top of that pile. It’s the most pleasant surprise of this short year to date. This is a collection of very good songs performed very well.  That might sound like damning praise, but it’s not meant to be; how many albums can boast as much? Rodriguez is known as a fiddle playing singer, but she plays the instrument on only two of the 12 tracks here, clearly focusing on her singing this time out. I can’t vouch for what might have been lost, but it seems like a wise choice. Her dusky voice is a nice complement to Lee Townsend’s atmospheric production and the tastefully airy arrangements.

Let’s get back to the first part of that earlier description: very good songs. I’m a huge Nick Lowe fan, so I’ve fully absorbed his back catalog, including the lone disappointing disc from Little Village, his “supergroup” with John Hiatt, Jim Keltner and Ry Cooder. So, I was surprised that Rodriguez’s cover of that album’s “Big Love” was nearly over before I recognized it. She had slowed it down and injected a bit of longing that was missing from the original. Finding the lost gem in a middling song is a talent, and Rodriguez has it.

She also has an ear for quality songs that fit her style. Tunes by David Rawlings and Gillian Welch, Richard Thompson,  Lucinda Williams and Townes Van Zandt all are standouts here. It doesn’t hurt that she is occasionally backed by the likes of Greg Leisz, Buddy Miller and Bill Frisell, but her regular backing group isn’t content to take the back seat, offering sympathetic performances that ground the songs and allow Rodriguez’s vocals to fit comfortably in the arrangement while offering a clear focal point.

The quality of this disc makes it clear that I now must go back and listen to Rodriguez’s two previous solo albums. And given how wrong my assumptions were on this count, I probably need to go check out Taylor, too.

If you popped into the concert from Loudon Wainwright and Richard Thompson for just a moment Tuesday night at the Englert Theatre in Iowa City, you could be forgiven for thinking these were two very depressed, dour old men. Or, alternately, that they were playful, wickedly funny guys whose energy betrays their age. The true view, of course, is that they are both and more, qualities that made the concert as satisfying as anyone familiar with their bodies of work would expect.

Wainwright led off this “Loud & Rich” show (itself a funny and sad name, for neither man is loud and, sadly neither is rich) with one of a handful of songs from his recent album, High, Wide and Handsome: The Charlie Poole Project. It’s a melancholy tune that led well into his relatively new original, “Dead Man,” in which Wainwright sings (and not for the last time this evening) of the impact of his father’s death.

Sensing the dour turn the set was taking from the outset, he moved to a “happy-go-lucky song about the afterlife,” that cataloged the fun to be had in heaven. That levity quickly gave way to more depression, in this case literally, as he sang a couple of songs from his latest project, 10 Songs for the New Depression. “I intend to cash in on these hard times,” he quipped.

The rest of his set was a nice balance of humor and misery. A tale about winning a Grammy for the Poole album led to the old chuckle-inducing “Grammy Song,” while one of the most poignant songs of the night was “White Winos,” which deals with his mother’s dependence on the grape.

Some of the funniest moments came during his between-song banter. Hearing a cell phone in the audience, he made up one side of the conversation (offering himself glowing praise), and in one of many pitches for audience members to buy his merchandise after the show, he pulled a Sharpie marker from his shirt pocket and said, “Yes, I have my Sharpie. Yes, we can talk, briefly. Yes, you can take a picture of me with your cellphone.”

Thompson joined Wainwright for two songs toward the close of his set, the Poole song “Don’t Let Your Deal Go Down,” and Wainwright’s own “Flypaper.” He closed with two newer songs, including the very funny “Durango,” about the airline worker who wouldn’t own up to breaking the singer’s Martin guitar.

The Wainwright set would have been entertainment enough for the night, but hearing Thompson’s fiery guitar leads during his two songs on stage whet the appetite for more of RT’s music.

He opened his half of the show with “When the Spell is Broken” and “Turning of the Tide,” two older songs that found him needing no time to warm up. That was followed by “Cold Kisses” from the oft-overlooked album you? me? us? That set the format for the rest of the set, with beloved classics mingling with newer and lesser-known tracks. That meant a couple of new songs slated for a forthcoming live band album — “extraordinary work,” Thompson deadpanned. “Not extraordinarily good, just extraordinary” — including “Money Shuffle,” a scathing tune about Wall Street greed.

Highlights included the always chill-inducing “Vincent Black Lightning 1952″ and “Crawl Back (Under My Stone),” a rave-up during which Thompson coaxed an initially hesitant crowd to offer backing vocals. It was also nice to hear “Persuasion,” a song Thompson wrote with Split Enz’s Tim Finn, and “Sunset Song,” a gorgeous track from Thompson’s last album, Sweet Warrior.

Like Wainwright, Thompson was nearly as entertaining between songs as in performance, his witty asides keeping the audience perpetually grinning. He thanked the audience for its indulgence in allowing him to play new songs, equating it to audiences from the ’60s, who also were indulgent. “But that was drugs,” he said. “You could play anything… for hours… and we did.” He also told an amusing tale about the lyrics printed on the sleeve for “I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight,” which misspelled “nights” in the line “a couple of drunken nights rolling on the floor” as “knights,” thus significantly changing the meaning. “My career was over,” he said, adding that this allows him to play modest places like Iowa City while his contemporaries fly over it.

He returned for an encore with Wainwright in tow. Though it was still Thompson’s set, Wainwright seemed to take the lead. They performed Thompson’s “Down Where the Drunkards Roll,” then launched into a gorgeous reading of Bob Dylan’s “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere” (modeled on the Byrds’ jangly version). Wainwright sang lead while Thompson chimed in on the chorus, adding typically tasteful guitar fills throughout. They closed with the Leiber-Stoller classic “Smokey Joe’s Cafe,” a strange but no-less captivating choice.

Before his set, Thompson said that the two long-time friends were having a lot of fun performing together, and that was evident in their brief time together on stage. “The fun we have backstage, you couldn’t believe,” he joked. “It took me an hour to find my trousers.” If the thought of these 60-something grandfathers playing such pranks is a bit beyond belief, the idea that they enjoy one another’s company and music — and the competitive drive derived from both — certainly is not. The result was a fantastic two-and-a-half hours that blended darkness and light, comedy and tragedy, all with some amazing guitar.

Loudon Wainwright
Moving Day
Dead Man Heaven
Times Is Hard On to Victory, Mr. Roosevelt
The Grammy Song
Didn’t He Ramble
The Letter That Never Came
Between
Surviving Twin
New song about being a grandpa
Drinking Song
White Winos
Don’t Let Your Deal Go Down (w/Thompson)
Flypaper (w/Thompson)
I Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere
Durango

Richard Thompson
When the Spell is Broken
Turning of the Tide
Cold Kisses
Money Shuffle
Sidney Wells
Uninhabited Man
I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight
Devonside
Vincent Black Lightning 1952
Sunset Song
Crawl Back (Under My Stone)
Persuasion
Down Where the Drunkards Roll (w/Wainwright)
You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere (w/Wainwright)
Smokey Joe’s Cafe (w/Wainwright)

Listening to St. Vincent perform Tuesday night in Iowa City, I couldn’t help but think of Taylor Swift. Both are young women in the music business, but the comparison stops there. Annie Clark, who performs as St. Vincent, is wildly talented, with an angelic voice, serious guitar chops and considerable songwriting skills. In contrast, Swift, if reports are to be believed, can’t carry a tune, but has handlers who are able to cloak those deficiencies in pleasing arrangements of powerful pop songs (I haven’t knowingly heard a note of her music, so I’ll take the critics’ word on that one).

So, why did I think of one while watching the other? It’s that tired music critic trope: “In a perfect world, artist X would be a star,” the laziest of reviews always begin. I don’t know that the world will need to be perfect for Clark to be a star; she seems on the cusp already, and has arrived there seemingly without compromise. Yes, her songs have just enough edge to keep the indie kids in perpetual swoon, and just enough polish and soft edges to keep the attention of the more adventurous soccer moms when they come on NPR in the minivan, but it never feels calculated.

When standing at Tuesday’s show, I thought the same thing of Clark that I’ve long thought about Neko Case: I wonder what would happen if she completely sold out for one album, went to Nashville (or in the case of Clark, Hollywood) and turned herself over to the hitmaking machine. Both are too talented, ambitious and feisty (no pun intended there, though that’s another, less likely example, one supposes) to ever do so, but the prospect is intriguing nonetheless.

Case has proven that following her own path is working, and Clark seems to be taking a similar, parallel journey. The show was good, at times great, as she injected a bit of drama into already solid songs from her latest album, Actor. The set-up made it clear that this would not be a typical indie rock show. While she held down the front of the stage on vocals and guitar, the musicians surrounding her played flute, saxophone, violin, cheesy 80s keyboards and electronic drums. The whole works on album, and did so here (despite my feeling at times like the manufactured nature of the music could stand an organic kick in the pants from more traditional instruments).

It’s probably demeaning to suggest that Clark’s appeal stems in part from the fact that she’s quite comely and, as evidenced by her stage banter, enchantingly charming. That seems to have gotten Swift’s shaky pipes to the top of the charts, but for Clark, it’s the bow on top of an already incredibly appealing package. Her songs, guitar playing and singing are what hook you, and while you might not mind gazing at her doe-eyed visage while spinning the disc, it won’t be the reason you picked it up in the first place.

The show proved that her albums are no fluke, which only made me pine more for what comes next. Actor and its predecessor, Marry Me, are awfully good. All evidence suggests the next one could be tremendous.

To see what the fuss is about, watch her appearance last week on KCRW’s “Morning Becomes Eclectic:”

I came to Ben Neill‘s Night Science disc with half the knowledge I probably needed to fully understand and appreciate it. I know plenty about jazz and the melding of that sound with electronica (mainly thanks to the groundbreaking work of others through Thirsty Ear’s Blue Series), but knew nothing about dubstep. Night Science, however, blends these elements to create something the label describes as “a dubstep masterpiece, a jazz classic, and something altogether unfamiliar.”

I still don’t know anything about dubstep — though I can now at least identify the beat when I hear it, a stuttering, click clack that feels like a glitchy dancefloor call to arms — but I know that Neill blends electronic instrumentation, a jazz feel and that insistent beat to create songs that convey darkness and menace despite their sprightly tempos.

Neill accomplishes this with an instrument called the mutantrumpet, which melds a regular trumpet with electronics. “The new mutantrumpet uses technologies from (a previous version) as well as a new ergonomic design which now includes 8 continuous MIDI controllers and 8 momentary MIDI controllers in addition to the acoustic note and volume control from the instrument’s natural sound. The instrument connects directly to the computer via USB.” While I’m a huge fan of acoustic jazz, performers who experiment with electronic instruments and textures within the framework of jazz have long caught my ear.

With Night Science, Neill does just that, perhaps even more organically than most. The ability to alter his electronics with the touch of a finger while playing an admittedly greatly altered instrument allows him to subtly shift the sound in the moment. If there is a knock against electronic-driven jazz, it is its pre-programmed, static nature. Neill avoids that trap here.

That said, I can’t point to any one song as say, “This is the one that will hook you.” The hooks are few and far between here. This is a mood piece, and while each of the 10 tracks is separate and distinct, it also would succeed as one long, uninterrupted track (in fact, it does when I put it on while at work, allowing it to seep into the subconscious).

So, is this the great “dubstep masterpiece” as advertised? Far be it from me to say. I can say it is a very worthy entry in Thirsty Ear’s fantastic Blue Series, a disc that will appeal to open-minded jazz fans and perhaps help pull at the boundaries of what they consider the genre to be.