The way things are going, Del McCoury just might end up being the world’s first 70-year-old rock star.
Never mind the fact that he plays bluegrass, or the fact that he stands on stage in a dapper suit, flatpicking and singing in a high, nasally tenor about blue-collar hardships – he’s still getting flashed by more girls than John Mayer.
McCoury is a giant in bluegrass circles, having toured the world since the 1950s alongside folks like Bill Monroe, the “father of bluegrass.” Over the last five decades, the York native has released over 20 albums and picked up 31 International Bluegrass Music Association awards, including nine for Entertainer of the Year. In February of this year, he added the first Grammy to his mantel for 2005’s The Company We Keep.
At the age of 67, McCoury continues to push forward. In June, he released the first gospel album of his career, The Promised Land, which was met with widespread acclaim. And “widespread” is no overstatement: since being embraced by the jam scene a few years ago, the Del McCoury Band has amassed one of the most bizarrely eclectic fan bases around.
Tours with jam-band heavies like Phish and the String Cheese Incident gained McCoury a new generation of fans, mostly of the tie-dye-wearing, granola-eating variety. These self-dubbed “Del-Heads” have made McCoury and his band (which includes his sons, Ronnie and Rob) arguably the hottest ticket in bluegrass today. And you thought York’s biggest export was Harley-Davidson …
The Del McCoury Band will make a homecoming later this month for a show at the Strand-Capitol. Fly Magazine caught up with the silver-haired singer to talk about his late-career renaissance and why he’ll take Earl Scruggs over Elvis any day of the week.

Fly Magazine: I read that when you were first getting started, you used to drive 40 miles to play for $7.
Del McCoury: Yeah, that was back in the late ’50s. Probably the three best towns were Baltimore and Cincinnati and Detroit. Isn’t that funny for bluegrass?
I got a job playing banjo in Baltimore. I would go down there and make $7 a night! But at the same time, you could buy gas for 20-some cents per gallon.

FM:    It’s funny how much things change, because this year alone you ended up turning down something like half a million dollars’ worth of work.
DM:    Yeah, it’s crazy. Things are really going good for us. A lot of times, I think, “What is this?” I can’t figure it out. But, I’ll tell you, we’ve got a lot of fans.

FM:    I think a lot of that is because of way the jam band scene has suddenly embraced you. It’s such a strange phenomenon. Why do you think that’s happened?
DM:    The only thing I can figure is that those guys used to come to my shows, especially in Colorado. String Cheese Incident and Leftover Salmon – all of those guys used to come to my shows. And once they got in a band of their own, then they wanted me to come and play their gigs with them. They were fans to start with. That way, we gained a lot of new fans too.
I used to play up in New England a lot, and Phish, the guys in that band, they came to my shows. And they recorded one of my songs then later on, Phish did. And then after they did that, they wondered if we’d come and play their festival up there in New York. So we went up there and played, and there was like 70,000 kids there!

FM:    I read a quote from your manager that said, “Del’s getting flashed at Irving Plaza and getting his butt pinched at Bonnaroo!”
DM:    It’s crazy, and I can’t understand it, really.

FM:    Do you pay any attention to that kind of stuff?
DM:    Well, you do pay attention to some of it! [laughs]

FM:    Yeah, I guess you kind of have to!
DM:    But yeah, at any rate, it’s rewarding to be in this position. It is. In the beginning I just wanted to play and sing. I never thought about popularity or anything like that. I was just so into the music. And I still enjoy performing for people and talking to them onstage. I’ll tell you, they entertain me! Whether they realize it or not, they entertain me more than I entertain them.

FM:    You’ve referred to your love of music like a curse that’s followed you around.
DM:    Yeah, that’s probably true. I went to Spring Grove High School. I remember all the kids then, they were listening to Elvis Presley. He was a big thing in the middle ’50s. That’s what the cats were listening to, was that new rock and roll. But before that, I heard Earl Scruggs, and I didn’t pay no attention to anything else.
I can see now why kids took to Elvis. He was like Earl was to me. A lot of music before that was real slow and dragging. And when Earl Scruggs come along with that fast banjo and Elvis Presley come along with all those songs he was doing, I can see where kids would take to that.

FM:    What Elvis was doing to rock and roll, Earl was doing to bluegrass – making it raw and exciting and rebellious.
DM:    That’s what got me into that. And Earl Scruggs worked for Bill Monroe – that’s where he got his start. So once I got a chance to play with Bill, I thought I’d better take it! He’s the father of bluegrass music. It’s true. He was it.
I learned later that those early rock and roll guitar players were getting their licks from Bill Monroe’s mandolin. Like the guy that did “Johnny B. Goode,” his guitar licks are straight from Bill Monroe’s mandolin. They said when Elvis would hear Bill Monroe come on the radio in the car, he’d make them stop the car so he could hear it, because Bill Monroe was his idol.

FM:    Throughout most of your career, you had to take odd jobs in construction and logging to pay the bills between shows. Now you’ve finally done the unimaginable, which is to make a decent living playing bluegrass.
DM:    That’s right. See, all the time the kids were growing up, I had a day job. And of course, while I was doing the day job, music was what I was thinking about! [laughs] But I’d travel a thousand miles to play a bluegrass festival out in the Midwest or somewhere. You can do that when you’re young. You can lose sleep and still go. But I never gave up.
I think it takes a certain person to be a road musician. I really didn’t get all that much recognition. It’s not like now. I just played music because I liked to do it.

FM:    What’s it been like sharing this experience with your sons?
DM:    It’s really great. Back in the ’70s, when I looked at my kids, I never thought about them playing music, because they were just small! [laughs] But they took an interest. I thought, “Well, they’ll play for a while, then they’ll take an interest in something else. Maybe they’ll want to be a baseball player or something like that.” But you know, once they did start, they never really laid them down, those instruments. They probably had the same desire that I had when I was their age to play music.

FM:    You’re coming back home to York for a New Year’s Eve show this year …
DM:    That’s right. I was born in Jackson Township there in York County, and I grew up there. And I still have a house there in Glenville, which is close to Glen Rock.
It’s good to come back there. But you know, it’s probably more relaxing for me when I play some other town! If I go back home, I know so many people that you really don’t get a chance to rest much. You have to talk to them all because you know them. [laughs] And I’ll get hoarse quicker talking than I will singing. I can sing all night.

FM:    Well, we’ll try to take it easy on you this time.
DM:    Oh, don’t worry about it!