Who is Alison Krauss

The musical collaboration of the decade, Raising Sand is the sound of two iconic figures stepping out of their respective comfort zones and letting their instincts lead them across a brave new sonic landscape. Despite hailing from distinctly different backgrounds, Alison Krauss and Robert Plant share a maverick spirit and willingness to extend the boundaries of their respective genres. This spirit, expertly honed by producer T Bone Burnett, has resulted in an album pitched three steps beyond some cosmic collision of early urban blues, spacious West Texas country, and the untapped potential of the folk-rock revolution. Supported by the unparalleled musicianship of Marc Ribot, Dennis Crouch, Mike Seeger, Jay Bellerose, Norman Blake, Greg Leisz, Patrick Warren, and Riley Baugus, Plant and Krauss -- as both solo and harmony vocalists -- tackle an intriguing selection of songs from such tunesmiths as Tom Waits, Gene Clark, Sam Phillips, Townes Van Zandt, The Everly Broth! ers, and Mel Tillis. Raising Sand finds Robert Plant and Alison Krauss exploring popular music's elemental roots while still sounding effortlessly, breath-takingly contemporary.

This two-CD, 25-song set, recorded in Louisville on two nights in the spring of 2002, finds bluegrass's most celebrated crossover band at the top of its game. Krauss's warm, feathery vocals, capable of conveying complex emotions in a single note, appear more full-bodied than in studio recordings, yet lose none of their sensual appeal or dramatic tension. She's perfect, for example, as the melancholy temptress on "Let Me Touch You for Awhile," coming across as both savior and seductress, while Jerry Douglas's Dobro echoes the searing strains of passion and pain. With banjoist-guitarist Ron Block, bassist Barry Bales, and guest drummer Larry Atamanuik anchoring the rhythm, the ensemble deftly blends bluegrass with jazz, rock, and folk, combining lightning speed (though rushing through "Forget About It") with sophisticated chops, tangible emotion, and thrilling vocal blends. The crowd, more spellbound with every note, doesn't even breathe on "Ghost in This House" and nearly tears the place down on Dan Tyminski's voice-of-George Clooney showcase, "I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow." But who could blame them? It's only one highlight on an album of uncommon artistry, a moving testament to how good live music can be in the hands of world-class players. --Alanna Nash