The Flatlanders: A legend at work

At Saturday's sold-out show at World Cafe Live, the Flatlanders showed they are both a great band and a legend at work.

Joe Ely, Butch Hancock, and Jimmie Dale Gilmore shone as an ensemble and individually, a superb demonstration of why they are so revered.

Throughout the 1970s, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, and Kris Kristofferson - Texans all - eschewed country music's satin twang and Nudie suits to craft something bold. It was a stripped-down outlaw vibe of weary lyricism topped with whiskey, dope, woe, and social issues that transcended mere romance gone wrong. Country was forever changed.

Across the state in Lubbock, however, rose an alternative to their alternative - something equally heady but literate, lilting, rootsy, and also cosmic: The Flatlanders. Or as they called themselves in 1973, when they released an eponymous 8-track, Jimmie Dale and the Flatlanders.

Unlike Waylon and his outlaw pals, the Lubbock trio, named for the cotton-growing region of the panhandle, went nowhere during its inception. But Hancock (homespun, Dylanesque), Ely (dark rebel hillbilly), and Gilmore (high-warbling, lonesome tenor) found growing respect as their myth grew. That's how their first official release, 1990's More a Legend than a Band, got its name.

As Saturday night's performance showed, this legend is a band, this band is a legend. Ensemble tunes ranged from the punchy ("Borderless Love") to sweet-and-sour harmony (a swishy "Julia"). Each man grabbed a vocal lick during the others' leads. Each crooned the others' ruminative songs. They turned their bridges into two-man conversations.

Hancock's nasal voice took nicely to country-blue road tales. Even better were Ely's gritty baritone and Gilmore's fluttering swoon and the stories they told. With guitarist Robbie Gjersoe sliding nimbly behind, "Wavin' My Heart Goodbye" and "Wheels of Fortune" were dustily elegant showcases for Gilmore. At first, Ely's swinging rockabilly and hillside ballads seemed preachy - until "Homeland Refugee." With twitches of Dylan's "Tangled up in Blue" in its Tex-Mex sway, Ely's bruised baritone found connections between 2009 and the Great Depression, making them sparkle sadly with casino gold and desert loneliness.