It was a pleasant surprise when Matthew Milia, singer and multi-instrumentalist of Michigan band Frontier Ruckus, took the stage and played a wonderfully contemplative solo set, only an acoustic guitar and harmonica to accompany his mournful vocals.

“I was nervous,” Milia said after the show. “I’m used to having everyone else on stage around me.”

The rest of Frontier Ruckus stayed back in Michigan while Milia traveled alongside fellow band Southeast Engine, a short string of shows marking their trip to SXSW. The audience at Greener Grounds didn’t seem to feel any trepidation about the lack of a full band, however. Those that attended (there were less than twenty, which was too bad) watched in rapt attention, a boisterous round of clapping rising to meet the end of each song.

It became immediately apparent that there was some strange and beautiful mojo at work while Milia played. I couldn’t help but think of comparisons to Nebraska-era Bruce Springsteen and solo Neil Young. While conventional wisdom dictates this type of songwriting falls under a country-tinged indie-folk umbrella, I find that such labeling isn’t a favor to anyone. It is best to approach Frontier Ruckus’s influences and sound in terms of imagery. While Springsteen sings to the burned-out neon of Asbury Park and Young to the dilapidated heart of the rust belt, Milia uses a decidedly wintery pallet. His songs form a place where every road is a dead end, and the only thing that brightens the snowy night is the fluorescent glow of a strip mall. It is a frozen suburban wilderness juxtaposed against lake country, a place where the faded memories of summers past hover like ghosts.

Haunted is an appropriate word to describe the Frontier Ruckus experience. The “Sounds Like” section of their myspace page has the following Huckleberry Finn passage: “…and there was them kind of faint dronings of bugs and flies in the air that makes it seem so lonesome and like everyone’s dead and gone.” Dreary, yes, but pleasantly so. Twain’s words take on a new life in the songs, developing into folk music that retains the theme of faded Americana without sounding anachronistic.
While Milia is more than capable of holding an audience in sway by himself, the real power of Frontier Ruckus lies in the full band. Their latest release, The Orion Songbook, is beautifully arranged. Classic combinations such as banjo, dobro, harmonica, and pedal steel guitar all augment the harmonies provided by Anna Burch, which sound as lush as something from Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris. Untraditional instrumentation such as the addition of brass, melodica, and organ all help to flesh out the songs.

What is most interesting is the use of singing-saw. That’s right: a hand saw played with a bow. Sonically, it fills places usually reserved for the pedal steel and adds an ethereal quality to passages. “A lot of people think that it’s a theremin,” Milia said. “It adds that spooky kind of sound.”

Beyond what connotations the record and the live set evoke lies the true heart of Frontier Ruckus. After the show Milia and I talked for a moment, and the vibe of the whole evening struck me: it was like the beginning of a really good road song playing out in real time. Frontier Ruckus is a young band, just now making their bones. Even with a strong record to promote, most bands still toil for years playing shows just like the one at Greener Grounds. It seems as though a band has to act as a collector, gathering together thousands of these tiny concerts to make even the slightest mark, only a vision of what could be driving them on.

The road is an enigmatic symbol in American culture, a place where both dreams and demons dwell. With the draw of opportunity comes the hard-won knowledge that serves as the basis for a thousand train songs and murder ballads. The Orion Songbook documents the mythic landscape of Michigan unlike any other record I’ve heard, and I can only guess as to what the future might hold for a band with such a commanding live show. The dream Frontier Ruckus holds is as eerie as a dilapidated barn caught in moonlight and fog, but it is a strong dream, one that could sustain them out there on the pavement for a long time.