Do you remember the Coen Brothers' film O Brother, Where Art Thou? (Sorry, Awix didn't have a review.) If you enjoyed this Mississippi version of the Odyssey, and you liked the music, you'll love what we have for you: Down from the Mountain, a documentary film that records the 2000 concert given by the soundtrack performers, at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, Tennessee.

Me, I love Coen Brothers films. They're like Forrest's box of chocolates: you never know what you're going to get. People often wonder about a film set in a particular time and place, 'Would the natives feel offended?" Are you kidding? My dad and stepmom, not film buffs, adored O Brother, Where Art Thou? My late mother was a native of Mississippi, and whenever I see this film, I keep nodding my head. Yep, that's it, all right. My dad got a laugh out of Dapper Dan 'hair treatment'. He remembered the adult men using it when he was a kid.

The first time we saw this film, we were in a cinema in Philadelphia. There were two older ladies in front of us. I could tell they were from Mississippi by the things they laughed at. After the showing, we introduced ourselves – sho' 'nuff, they were from the Delta, and had loved the flick. Not a bad accomplishment for boys from Minnesota.

The film here is short on documentary, long on performance and fun. In other words, you get to listen to the likes of Johnny Hartford, Alison Krauss, Emmylou Harris, Ralph Stanley, and Gillian Walsh. For FREE. You can't beat that with a stick, as they say in Tennessee.

I grew up listening to country music, especially of the 'old time' variety, as is performed here. Saturday evenings in Memphis, we'd wash the supper dishes, get out the Sunday School books to study, and sit down to watch all the half-hour country shows, like 'Flatt and Scruggs'. Mr Flatt grew up about two miles from my grandparents' house, and he played guitar while his partner, Mr Scruggs, did amazing things to a banjo. It sounded like this.

After they'd entertained the TV audience (and done their own commercials), they were off to the Opry – the Grand Ole Opry, which performed every Saturday night in the Ryman Auditorium. It could be heard on the radio – in fact, since my grandfather had the first radio in Lost Creek, back in the 30s, people used to congregate at his house to hear it. (No, they didn't have electricity. They had a batt'ry – a BIG batt'ry.)

A long time ago, these people were the Big Stars in my neck of the woods. They were as popular as that Brad Pitt feller. This generation of musicologists and performers, like T-Bone Walker, who produced the record, and Emmylou Harris, who sings like a hillbilly nightingale, and Alison Krauss, who restores your faith in the violin, all learned from these folks. They were enthusiastic about reproducing the sound – even to the point of fishing out all those old-style microphones to get it just right.

Dr Ralph Stanley (they always mention his title, because they love him) won the 2002 Grammy for Best Male Country Vocal Performance for 'O Death', thus branching out at an advanced age. He sings the song here. If the hairs on the back of your neck don't stand up when you hear that song, I don't know what's wrong with you. You're probably a Vulcan.