Krauss makes corny jokes, sublime music

"Thanks for comin' out tonight, when you could have been home watching 'Matlock,' " Alison Krauss told her Marymoor Park audience Saturday.

Yeah, sure, Alison. Like we'd watch schlock TV reruns over hearing the most celebrated singer in modern bluegrass, outdoors on a balmy night.

In recent years, Krauss has achieved crossover stardom, won a bushel of Grammys, and received a bland-to-blond makeover.

But since emerging 20 years ago as a 14-year-old fiddle champ from Champaign, Ill., she's been a zany jokester at heart as well as an angelic singer — and strong supporter of other, rootsworthy acts (like Nickel Creek).

Krauss surely looked purty in Redmond, wearing a lacy white top, her ash-blond hair stylishly coiffed.

As for the band — makeover, shmakeover. Why mess with perfection?

Primo bluegrass veterans all, Union Station and Krauss came on without fanfare, waved hello and launched a filling two-hour set that began with one their tangy, twangy weepies, "Every Time You Say Goodbye," and closed with a heart-rending hymn, "A Living Prayer."

Between hit ballads like "Ghost in This House," "When You Say Nothing at All" and uptempo winners like "Atlanta," Krauss was still the tomboy kid sister needling her big brothers.

She teased frequent Union Station guest Jerry Douglas for his legendary prowess on dobro guitar. (His sensational, near-symphonic dobro solo number made it official: Douglas is the Keith Jarrett of the dobro.)

Krauss ribbed bassist Barry Bales, mock-chided banjo wizard Ron Block, and she joshed with the central pillar of Union Station, all-round bluegrass hand Dan Tyminski, who sang his famed version of "Man of Constant Sorrow" (which he dubbed for George Clooney in the film "O Brother, Where Art Thou?).

On this tour, the band also has a drummer and keyboard player, neither essential (and in the drummer's case, way overamplified).

When Krauss sings, that sweet-cream voice needs no thumping backbeat. When she sings, the joking stops, and music redolent of honeysuckle and moonshine and heartbreak and faith, takes over.

Misha Berson: mberson@seattletimes.com.