Emmylou Harris' name was written in the big letters on the marquee, but it was Buddy Miller's show Wednesday night at The Auditorium Theatre. It isn't just the fact that I root for the underdog, spin the B-side, constantly look below the radar, and thrive on music traveling the airways less traveled. It's because my goose bumps are in limited supply. When the cheese-grater flesh does make the scene it's due to a Molotov cocktail of factors --- incendiary and mostly elusive, as most music I like tends to be.

Miller strapped on a guitar and strode out in the pointiest cowboy boots I'd ever seen. You could have lanced a boil with those pig-stickers. His voice was rich and ragged as he opened with the somber "How I Got To Memphis" --- a tune he penned for King Solomon Burke, who in turned recorded it on his last album in Miller's living room. The goose bumps showed up and stayed up when Miller copped an electric guitar just slithering in slinky tremolo for "Does My Ring Burn Your Finger." Harris' bass player showed up for this one; his solid 2/4 on the doghouse helped put the song in gear and point it hip-ward. It was all lovely dovely and mysterious with an ominous undertone. In fact, ominous is like hot sauce; you take any song of any topic, any mood, any groove, and you splash on a little ominous...it'll burn ya, baby.

God, she's beautiful. Harris' voice is almost as luxuriously silver as her tresses. She sang in a voice that sounded a fraction of her 62 years. She floated like a butterfly and stung like, well, a butterfly. It was a mid-tempo honky-tonk lullaby that hovered just beneath the clouds, but I'd already spent my awe on Miller. Harris was still mesmerizing --- especially when she and Miller tag-teamed on the Nazareth classic "Love Hurts."

Just kidding, I know it's actually a Roy Orbison tune. Gotcha again; I know it's Gramm Parsons. Suckers. I thought I'd fuck with the wiz kids that read this column who freak out and roast me when I get something wrong. I get it right most of the time; give a brother a break. Besides, I know you like the Nazareth version the best. I think I do, too.