I was very disappointed with this album...If you are looking for the more traditional bluegrass sounds with mandolin fiddle, banjo, this album sounded like an old bird that trys to make a litte comeback before it retires for good. It sounds like the Simon & Garfunkel of bluegrass..I would recommend that you attempt to try the Back Porch
album for a more traditional sound, and leave this one for the person that has the sound of contemporary country music in mind.
Make no mistake: This ain't your daddy's Dillards. "Let It Fly" is slicker than deer guts on a door knob, to borrow a phrase from Mitch Jayne. But in this case, that's a very good thing. Trumping Nashville's "hat acts" at their own game, the Dillards have put their unique stamp on a superb modern country album.
It's Old Home Week as the core Dillards - Rodney Dillard, Dean Webb and Mitch Jayne - are reunited with honorary Dillards Byron Berline and Herb Pedersen (who also produced) on what, for my bucks, is easily the group's best latter-day studio album.
Berline's rollicking fiddle punctuates "Darlin' Boys," a catchy ode to the Dillards' television alter egos. (The song earned the group their first Grammy nomination in 1990.) Pedersen lends his divine tenor to the gently chugging "Old Train" and to gorgeous harmonies with Rodney on nearly every track.
The musicianship is superb. Dean's mandolin playing, the most mellifluous in the business, shines on the sad sing-along "Missing You." Pedersen and Dillard-in-training Steve Cooley, both awful good on anything with strings, get to strut their chops on "Ozark Nights," a lively nod to the group's humble roots.
Rodney's robust lead vocals are a revelation. A completely guileless singer, he has always sounded like he means every single word he sings. On demanding songs like "Tears Won't Dry in the Rain," Dylan's "One Too Many Mornings" and the title track, his voice sounds heartbreakingly earnest. Rodney has matured into a great country singer who deserves his due.
The album ends with the downright strange and inventive "Wizard of Song." In his delightful rusty drawl, Mitch voices the role of a cynical Music Wiz tutoring a pesky songwriting wannabe. Rodney chimes in with a tongue-twisting rap that hilariously skewers country music cliches and even references TV sister Charlene, she of the famously sensitive tear ducts. Instead of making her cry, though, this one would make Charlene bust a gut laughing.
Let It Fly tells of how they were and how they all got back together.
I believe this album was the first of the reunion.
It reminds me of the live performances I enjoyed back in 19-mumblemumble.