The Steve Miller Band passed through town a couple of weeks ago, playing to an enthusiastic crowd of people who fondly remember his mid-'70s heyday.

Most Miller fans, I'd wager, own no more than an album or two of his, "Fly Like An Eagle" or "Book of Dreams," or the "Greatest Hits" anthology culled from those two (with the slightly earlier favorite tune "The Joker" thrown in for good measure).

Of course, that's hardly all there is to the Steve Miller story.

I remember hearing when "Fly Like An Eagle" was released in 1976 that it was Miller's 10th album. That seemed amazing, considering all I'd heard before was "The Joker." But his band's output started in 1968 and was extremely prolific before its leader was sidelined for a good while following an auto accident.

Fans familiar with the synthesizers and slick harmonies of Miller's AOR-friendly compositions might be surprised to learn his group once was called the Steve Miller Blues Band, and that plenty of his early material draws considerably from that particular genre. That's not to say Miller (and Boz Scaggs, who played on the first two albums) stuck to the good ol' 12 bars. They liked to experiment, which usually is a good thing.

Some very early Miller can be heard on the boxed set from the Monterey Pop Festival (June 1967), with a performance of "Mercury Blues" that sounds far removed from the more popular "Fly Like An Eagle" version nine years later.

The band's first album, "Children of the Future," is somewhat of a product of the times (one track is called "Psychedelic B.B."), but is very listenable with good production values for that day and age.

Miller really hit his stride with the next two, "Sailor" and "Brave New World," which I'd rank as his best work, the platinum-selling '70s stuff notwithstanding. A couple of tunes from each - "Living in the USA" on the former, "Space Cowboy" on the latter - still get some play as indicative of Steve's early days.

But there's plenty of other worthwhile material: "Quicksilver Girl" (written about the girlfriend of Quicksilver Messenger Service bassist David Freiberg, who actually went by "Girl"), "Lucky Man" (a very catchy 12-bar"), Skaggs' energetic "Overdrive," the harp-driven "Got Love 'Cause You Need It" and "My Dark Hour," featuring the same riff that captured the world's attention on the "Fly Like An Eagle" title track (and featuring a guy called Paul Ramone playing drums, who actually turns out to be none other than J. Paul McCartney).

The Steve Miller Band released two more albums through 1970 to wrap up an exceptionally productive period: "Your Saving Grace" and "Number 5." Check out the legendary Nicky Hopkins' piano playing on "Baby's House" on the former and the sociopolitical commentary of "Jackson-Kent Blues" and "Industrial-Military Complex Hex" on the latter.

That is, if you can find those CDs. I guarantee you, they won't be in the Steve Miller bin at your local retailer. Your best bet there probably is a Capitol Records anthology covering 1968-73, which can serve as a good introduction to the (almost) lost work of a long-serving and prolific American artist.

Ask anyone about his or her all-time favorite album, and there's usually a long pause.

How do you pinpoint just one? That's what "desert island disc" lists are for, so that you have some wiggle room.

I've switched gears on my "favorite" over the years, from stuff like Grand Funk's "Shinin' On" in the very, very early days (haven't heard that one in decades) to Jefferson Airplane's "Bless Its Pointed Little Head" to the Mothers of Invention's "We're Only In It for the Money."

More recently, I've come to the conclusion that Miles Davis' "Kind of Blue" is the best album ever recorded, especially considering that something so listenable and well-played is basically a series of largely improvisational first or second takes.

Favorite, though? I keep coming back to an album I first heard around 1977, when I was exploring as far as I could beyond the crap they were playing on the radio then.

At first glance, this particular album doesn't seem like much: two extended covers of Bo Diddley tunes that segue into a couple of instrumentals, culminating in the first verse of a Roy Rogers & Dale Evans song (that's the only verse the guys in the band could remember when they recorded it).

But Quicksilver Messenger Service's "Happy Trails" is one heck of a ride, from John Cipollina's screaming guitar notes to open the 25-minute version of "Who Do You Love" to the dissonant whistling that gives the whole recording a great touch of audio verite as the title track fades into the sunset.

As far as I know, Capitol Records still offers the title on CD, albeit with the mastering job from back in '88. Come on, guys! Let's work the digital magic on those tapes and come up with a pristine new version for the 21st century!

So, what was the deal with the extended soundcheck?

It took a little while to get the room prepared for the double bill of the Social Coyotes and Doodis at Cozumel in Shadyside the other night. That was no big deal, once the music started. And it all paid off about midway through the show.

Let's start with the opener. I missed the Social Coyotes' set at LumberJam II and looked forward to going on what the band describes as a "sonic journey full of powerful lyrics, catchy medodies, and danceable rhythms." Yeah, that was pretty much the case. Driven by Jeff Radosevich's five-string Warwick bass, the Coyotes launched into groove after groove, with Matt Enos and Shane Lieberman trading some smoking guitar riffs. (Shane was a guest, actually, in town from Boulder, Colo. Great job of filling in. I'll have to check out a show with regular guitarist Pat Heavens.)

After a spell, Doodis guitarist Jesse Cronce and Aaron Bennett, who plays keyboards for Patchwork Blu, climbed onto the stage for a long jam with Matt singin' about partyin' up a storm. Then they went into a wrapup jam, and after a while, Doodis bass player Jason Mitchell plugged in to take Jeff's place. Then Doodis drummer Shane McGraw hopped up to seamlessly slide into the drummer's chair, supplanting Chad Friedman. And no one lost a beat in the process.

So, that explained the lengthy soundcheck! They had to prepare for the ol' Switcheroo.

Once in place, Doodis played with a bit of a heavier sound than last I'd seen them and concentrated more fully on original material, including a tune called "New Tune," featuring a catchy, harmony-laden chorus.

Aaron sat in with the guys from the start, and Shane (Lieberman, that is) jumped up onstage after a while, and I suspect the rest of the Social Coyotes got into the act again by the end of the night. (It was getting past my bedtime.)

Just goes to show the cooperative spirit that exists in Pittsburgh's jamband community.

PHOTOS

1) Jeff and Matt of the Social Coyotes

2) Mitch and Jesse of Doodis

3) Shane keeps the beat

4) The other Shane flashes his chops

Thanks to good friends and/or deals I can't pass up, I've managed to beef up my CD collection substantially this summer.

I'll pass on some of the artists and titles, as recommendations in case you're looking for some listening material that's a little bit off the beaten path:

Yo La Tengo: This band has been around for 20 years. The first 15 or so, I'd never heard of them. Then someone lent me a CD called "And Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out." Very intriguing music. Just as intriguing is a recent acquisition, "I Can Hear the Heart Beating As One," parts of which combine ethereal vocals with layers of distorted guitars and catchy bass lines, something of a cross between the Velvet Underground and My Bloody Valentine. Other tunes are more straightforward, like the acoustic-based "Stockholm Syndrome." (Also worth checking out is Jerry Joseph?Äôs band of that same name.) And also worth checking out is Yo La Tengo's recently released anthology, "Prisoners of Love: A Smattering of Scintillating Senescent Songs."

The Black Keys: You've heard of the White Stripes. The The Black Keys happen to have a similar approach: a duo of guitar and bass, with the guitarists often firing up hyperamplified riffs to compensate for the lack of other instruments. (Only the The Black Keys' drummer is a guy, instead of someone's sister.) The concept works well on what I've heard of the The Black Keys' first and third albums, "The Big Come Up" and "Rubber Factory."

The Groundhogs: OK, I'll admit I always end up going back three or four decades when it comes to this stuff. Members of the Groundhogs were among the British boys who discovered the blues in the mid-'60s and ran with it. (Some of their brethren were Savoy Brown, Chicken Shack, Climax Blues Band and any number of spinoffs from John Mayall's Bluesbreakers, including the original Fleetwood Mac.) Anyway, lead Groundhog Tony (T.S.) McPhee steered the band somewhat away from the 12-bar format in the early '70s, with some U.K. top-10 albums as a result. A nice imported package puts together the Groundhogs' first four albums, from 1968-71: "Scratching the Surface," "Blues Obituary," "Thank Christ for the Bomb" and "Split." The third one, as you might expect from its title, stoked some controversy, but its message is as pertinent today as ever.

Speaking of today, T.S. still tours with a 21st-century version of the Groundhogs. Long live blues-rock!

Thirty-six years today, the Woodstock Music and Art Fair opened.

At the time, organizers envisioned a festival along the lines of many that were occurring around the country. No one could have realized the event would become the foremost icon of Rock's Golden Age, one that still is synonymous with the youth culture of the late '60s.

Why did Woodstock stand out, while mega-festivals in places like Miami, Newport, Atlanta and the Isle of Wight largely were forgotten? I have a few theories:

1) Catchy name. There's just something about "Woodstock" that sounds cool. Charlie Schulz must've thought so when he finally came up with something to call Snoopy's little bird friend. (Matter of fact, that's where I first heard it.) Ironically, the festival was in Sullivan County, N.Y., near a town called Bethel, a long way from the originally planned site of Woodstock. I don't know that the Bethel Music and Art Fair would have had the same ring to it.

2) New York City factor. The crowd that gathered on Yasgur's Farm brought with it a whole lot of vehicles, VW microbuses and otherwise. They clogged up the New York Thruway, which, in turn, had a direct impact on the media capital of the planet. Instant publicity to the nth degree.

3) Michael Wadleigh. The filmmaker shot a groundbreaking, award-winning documentary that not only focuses on the music, but the affiliated lifestyle. The film drew rave reviews when released in 1970 and was a favorite at "midnight movie" houses right up into the home video era. I'd imagine it's sold well on videocassette and DVD, particularly with bunches of extra footage (including previously unreleased songs by Jefferson Airplane, with Grace Slick looking great in a buckskin-fringe outfit). Without the movie, Woodstock probably would have been just another festival.

4) Jimi. The festival had plenty of firepower without Hendrix's set (which added an extra morning to the "three days of peace, love & music"). But his transcendent rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner," as captured by Wadleigh's crew, really put an exclamation point on the proceedings.

5) Altamont. The Rolling Stones tried to replicate Woodstock a few months later in California, with deadly results. While the resulting documentary, "Gimme Shelter," makes for much more fascinating viewing than "Woodstock," it tells a story that most people (Mick & Keith at the top of the list) would rather forget. By comparison, the relative peace and tranquility in upstate New York makes for a very nice way to remember a unique era.

Hartwood Acres hosted a heck of a show on Sunday night.

Unfortunately, I was rather fried after sitting in the blazing sun that afternoon, suffering through another Pirates game. (They lost, of course.) So I didn't make the drive to see Robert Randolph and the Family Band.

I knew I'd be missing a good performance. Randolph plays a mean pedal-steel guitar, taking it to full throttle in contrast to the rather subdued, whiny tones of the instrument on your typical country-and-western song. I have some recordings of him with his own band and with an aggregation called The Word (with members of the North Mississippi Allstars and Medeski, Martin & Wood), and they make for listening, particularly when he tears up Hendrix's "Voodoo Child (Slight Return)."

Anyway, my fellow journalist, music aficianado and IUP graduate Alan Wallace made it a point to get there, and he said that, yes, I missed a good one:

"First time I've seen him and jeez, I'm majorly impressed. ... smokin' band, not much emphasis on vocals, lots of emphasis on jams, played beyond 10 p.m. (10:15 p.m.), which is rare for Hartwood (about 2 hrs, 23 min total) ... big, big crowd ... interesting covers, too: 'Jesus Is Just Alright,' 'Billie Jean" (yep, the Michael Jackson song, which I never would have thought anyone could make cool) and, in the encore, a healthy chunk of 'War Pigs' (Black Sabbath) ... the bass and drum players are his cousins, and during the encore, they all played each other's instruments ... really loud, really high-energy. Definitely worth checking out.

"During the fourth song, they let about 50 girls up to dance onstage while the band played; they brought some kid up from the audience to play a guitar solo on another song; and they let some other kid try to sing on 'Billie Jean' ... let's just say he ought to keep his day job if he ever manages to land one ... but that's hardly something to criticize the band for. These guys know how to rock the house, HARD ... I get chills just thinking of what this band would have been like at Graffiti, had they been around while that venue still existed."

Well, I guess I'd better clear my calendar next time Robert Randolph comes to town.

I'll admit to sort of being stuck in a time warp when it comes to my musical preferences. (Hey, you get over 40, that stuff happens.) But I still try to keep up on what's being played nowadays. Just not as much as I'd like.

The other night I was walking by the TV set during the tail end of Jay Leno's show and saw a band with a distinctive lineup: mandolin, violin, acoustic guitar and standup bass. That caught my eye. But what really grabbed my attention was the sound: fluid, intense, a bit haunting.

"Hey, this is pretty cool," I said to my son. "Who is it?"

He didn't know, but quickly looked it up.

The band is Nickel Creek, a name that sounded vaguely familiar. (Turns out to be a Grammy winner. Shows you how much I pay attention to that kind of thing.)

The first thing the next morning, I searched for the band on the Internet. Only I typed in "Nickelback." Oops ... that ain't them. Try again.

Anyway, I see where Nickel Creek has released three albums and been involved in some side projects, and I look forward to hearing more than just the one song on Leno.

I guess it pays to watch late-night television occasionally.

On the way home from the movies Sunday night, the conversation on sports talk radio veered toward the National Basketball Association, which immediately prompts me to switch to another station.

"Try FM," my son suggested.

"I wonder which Led Zeppelin song they'll be in the middle of," I countered. We'd been playing this game for years, where you switch to a Pittsburgh "classic rock" station and guess how many songs you'll hear before Page, Plant and the boys come on the air. My son has tried it with his friends, and they get a kick out of it, too. I think the maximum anyone has gotten to is 3 songs.

Anyway, I switched to FM and heard the Beatles playing "Dear Prudence." I was impressed. That's a relatively obscure offering from the Fab Four.

As "Prudence" faded out, the first few chords to the next song started, sounding vaguely familiar. All of a sudden, I started shouting, "That's Moby Grape! 'Motorcycle Irene'! One of the songs Skip Spence wrote before he freaked out and took an ax to the hotel room door!

"Wow!" (Which happens to be the name of the Moby Grape album on which "Irene" appears.)

I realized we must have bee listening to "Little Steven's Underground Garage," a program hosted by guitarist Steve Van Zandt featuring the great music of the mid- to late '60s. Sure enough, after the two-plus minutes of "Irene," Steve took to the microphone, telling us all about the songs he'd just played.

I'd read about the show when it was introduced last year, but had no idea it was on in Pittsburgh (Little Steven probably doesn't play that much Led Zeppelin). But here it is, listed as airing from 10 p.m. to midnight every Sunday on 96.9, WRRK-FM.

Now I know exactly what to listen to when I'm dozing off the night before the start of the work week. That's a good way to go!

This information arrived in my e-mailbox today, if anyone can help:

Vern from Black Crash had his gear stolen from his car while parked on the south side last night after a
gig at Club Cafe. Keep an eye out and if anybody sees or hears of any of this stuff coming or going please e-mail me and I'll pass the info along.

Gretsch Country Classic hollowbody electric guitar; Serial Number: 02912262-1275; Model No.: G6122-1962 (has a card with initials and birthdate under the protective padding on the back of the guitar)

PedalTrain Case containing: DC powerbrick (Velcro on the bottom); Possible serial number: AA51S513

Boss Floor Tuner; Digitech Phaser (Velcro on the bottom); Full Tone - Full Drive 2 (Velcro on the bottom); Visual Sound H2O (Velcro on the bottom); Boss Delay; Audix Microphone