Bright Northern Lights

If we were to fib and say that the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and the Roches were teaming up for a show next month at the Coach House, with guest star Bruce Hornsby sitting in on piano, chances are that a couple of packed houses’ worth of would-be ticket buyers would soon be a little peeved at our little hoax.

Instead, we’ll offer one of the straightest, soundest tips that fans of versatile, rootsy song styles, delicious harmonies and gleaming keyboard prowess could ever receive: The next time an Orange County club advertises a concert by the Rankin Family, don’t even think of hesitating.

Triumphant in Canada, where they sweep national music awards while reaping hit-level sales (but still grasping for a commercial foothold across the border), the Rankin Family is built around five siblings from Nova Scotia, plus a four-man accompanying band.

Tuesday night at the Coach House, they put on a fiery and winsome, delicate and soaring, country and Celtic concert that made 100 minutes go by in seemingly half the time. All this for a less than half-capacity but fully enthralled house of established fans and instant converts, who will surely tell their friends the next time ‘round.

The Rankins’ tremendously varied talent arsenal made possible the shifting, fast-flowing pacing that made time fly.

Jimmy Rankin, the band’s most prolific songwriter, was the point man for the Dirt Band approximations, stepping forward to sing in a clear, sturdy tenor on songs that were a sharp blend of folk, country and rock.

John Morris Rankin supplied the glistening, free-rolling piano currents that called Hornsby to mind.

And then there were the sisters, Cookie, Raylene and Heather Rankin. Their close-harmony soprano blend couldn’t match the full tonal palette that has put Maggie, Terre and Suzzy Roche in the singin’ siblings’ hall of fame, but it nevertheless provided enchanting swells of sweetness and splendid bursts of vitality. (Sometimes as individuals, however, the sisters had trouble enunciating lyrics above the band’s full-bodied instrumental sound.)

Besides all of this shining musical currency, the Rankins brought out the family jewels--the traditional music of their Celtic ancestry. It provided a rollicking counterweight to their modern folk-pop and country-rock.

Playing the ancestral card from the start, the Rankin Family opened with a lilting solo-piano air, which grew into a hard-charging traditional song, “As I Roved Out.”

The band’s country and folk-pop sides were established with the next few songs, but the Rankins dipped into tradition again to turn a promising set into a completely involving one.

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A highlight of this deep-roots segment was “Padstow,” a sprightly pastoral song about spring that climaxed with rich, six-part, a cappella harmony. Then came a burning twin-fiddle workout, with John Morris Rankin out from behind his piano and teaming with Howie MacDonald for fiddling so hellbent with acceleration that it reminded one why they call those fast Celtic dances “reels.”

Later, when the time came for a set-closing barn-burner, Jimmy Rankin’s “You Feel the Same Way Too” showed how much energy the Rankin Family could generate with a more up-to-date rocking country tune. Another peak song, “North Country,” brought the band’s Celtic antecedents and pop outlook together with surging effect.

The band’s original material, given mainly to evocations of rural scenes and troubled romances, along with statements of idealistic aspiration, was solid but not exceptional.

But the Rankins proved far more vibrant live than on their two U.S. albums (which are nevertheless both worthwhile, especially the new “Endless Seasons,” which avoids some of the too-polished production touches of “North Country”).

In concert, the material served mainly as a platform for the performances, with expansive melodies showcasing Jimmy Rankin’s appealing tenor and his sisters’ tremendous knack for high-range exploits.

On certain high-wire passages, Cookie, Raylene and Heather’s closely matched voices approached Alvin & the Chipmunks’ range yet never sounded gimmicky or anything less than wonderfully musical.

There were subtle differences: Cookie had a slightly tawny vocal hue (she announced she was getting over laryngitis, but she showed no noticeable ill effects). Heather’s voice had a sharp, piping tone quality. Raylene made a first impression of Nanci Griffith-like fragility but soon showed surprising reserves of full-bodied power. Her lead vocal on the closing hymn of affirmation, “Rise Again,” rose indeed, to an angelic high soprano that seemed to send notes arcing above the stage’s lighting rig.

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None of the Rankins are natural hams like the Roches, whose oddball stage banter is half the fun. But the sisters did loosen up over the course of the show, whooping and stomping through the fiery Celtic songs, shimmying while they sang, and getting in some dry-humored quips and flippant, slightly naughty asides.

Clearly, they try to distinguish themselves by their varying dress: Cookie was downscale Bohemian with her close-cropped hair, jeans and T-shirt. Heather was a more upscale artiste in her short satin dress, and Raylene, hair piled high and leotard worn tight, came off as a sexy country charmer.

But the most important image the group projected was one of uncalculating and infectious delight in the pleasures of singing and playing.

In one of the odder stylistic pairings of a local opening act with a touring headliner, the Coach House offered Blue Highway. The name hinted at rural excursions, but the band was all about jazz-fusion freeway jams.

Most of the short set was creaky and forced, but the music began to flow better on a concluding song that found the guitar-led band meshing with a combination of sprightly melodic content and buoyant South African rhythmic influences.

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As the opening act, Scott Meldrum, a coffeehouse singer from Long Beach, displayed solid ability and good influences such as Stevie Wonder and Lyle Lovett in an acoustic set of R&B-tinged; folk-pop music.

The material wasn’t striking, however, and Meldrum’s guitar accompanist, Mark Smith, went overboard in trying to supply rhythmic thrust. His strumming was far too prominent in the mix and too reliant on harsh, percussive chords. Smith did show a lighter touch on a ballad, “Flesh and Bone,” but his guitar was so horribly out of tune that his signs of dexterity hardly mattered.