tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34908272459061601752024-03-05T11:07:53.329-05:00The Inky JukeboxKick-ass country music reviews and commentaryInky Jukeboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05423482072130609234noreply@blogger.comBlogger167125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-6242710171213771282017-09-11T19:42:00.001-04:002017-09-11T19:43:22.857-04:00Dustin The Wind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBaDi_4fgSvT3yEYwAeilLrWhGUBGPVW64-U6t2egX6lheK_IQiohKkChjugR13PI7U4NyD9D6OJbHM1qIl94Ytp1qPZjg1-Q9lXcpTyzDlP7DiSDy_0Vh7BFExO0ypCK1WNcshs4RCw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-09-11+at+7.20.34+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="398" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBaDi_4fgSvT3yEYwAeilLrWhGUBGPVW64-U6t2egX6lheK_IQiohKkChjugR13PI7U4NyD9D6OJbHM1qIl94Ytp1qPZjg1-Q9lXcpTyzDlP7DiSDy_0Vh7BFExO0ypCK1WNcshs4RCw/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-09-11+at+7.20.34+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is a picture of Dustin Lynch. He’s a handsome man. Handsomer than most, I venture to say. </div>
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He’s the type of guy who could probably get by on his looks alone. He doesn’t have to, however; he’s been blessed with a great voice too. And he’s a singer! Dustin Lynch has made good life choices. </div>
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His first album was pretty darn good. It had some hits on it. He toured and became popular. His music could be characterized as good ole boy country music. His first album was titled <i>Dustin Lynch</i>.</div>
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His second album was OK. His popularity continued to grow. His music was considerably more pop-oriented. His second album’s title came from the biggest hit off it: <i>Where’ It’s At</i>.</div>
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Hi third album just came out. He’s a pertty popular dude. The music on his new album is best described as synth pop. Its title is <i>Current Mood</i>.</div>
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Dear Dustin Lynch: you need to re-evaluate your life choices. Specifically, your management, record company, and everyone associated with the decision to use this album title and this photo, of all the photos of you on the planet Earth, as the big pic on iTunes:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBU94IPL39mXM39xruuOUaz-cpE7eVYxO_96cI1wcJO_gaS1cSL4fIvxk5o3GKRw-5xNg3yNKA3a6GSQiM5ZypQMKMWK5pycrL_16QN5zqrg1zRS8sNfi53HuxnoiaA0X6cpv6OxP9Ndc/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-09-11+at+7.20.51+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="253" data-original-width="401" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBU94IPL39mXM39xruuOUaz-cpE7eVYxO_96cI1wcJO_gaS1cSL4fIvxk5o3GKRw-5xNg3yNKA3a6GSQiM5ZypQMKMWK5pycrL_16QN5zqrg1zRS8sNfi53HuxnoiaA0X6cpv6OxP9Ndc/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-09-11+at+7.20.51+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Seriously? Let’s not mention the weird, ghoulish green underlighting. Let’s not mention the context-free blank grey background. Let’s not mention the soulless blank gaze into a middle distance away from the camera. No. On second thoughts, let’s mention it. </div>
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Someone who presumably receives a salary decided that the best possible image to accompany an album titled <i>Current Mood</i> was this picture. Oh dear. Dustin Lynch’s current mood appears to be desperately fed-up. Perhaps this look was the result of being told this would be the photo used on iTunes to sell his album. The blank gaze suggests a young man all out of ideas, battered by forces beyond his control, who just wants it all to go away. </div>
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The title <i>Current Mood</i> clearly references social media, and is designed to appeal to young women who live on for it. Perhaps young women also like their singers to look like sad sadfaces.</div>
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Nah, they don’t. </div>
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Dustin Lynch: a suggestion. Have your people go with the photo at the top of this page. And ditch the synthesizers. Trust <i>The Inky Jukebox</i> on this. </div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-15268069147646800832014-10-12T15:36:00.000-04:002014-10-12T15:36:14.253-04:00That’s Damn Rock & Roll<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Eric Church in Pittsburgh</span></div>
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When musicians and their team sit down to start planning a
new tour, one of three things will result: either the show they stage will be
basically the same show they’ve run before using the same stage set-up and
basic set list to reduce everyone’s time, money and stress (think Tim McGraw);
the show will employ the same technology and set-up that has become the
standard for such tours (big back screen, big amps, some kind of multi-level
stage arrangement) (think Rascal Flatts); or they will completely go out on a
limb and reinvent how an audience can see the show (think Brad Paisley). In
recent years the difference between acts who invest thought into their lighting
and screen imagery and those who don’t has become clear; the latter use random
geometric patterns or old video footage to play alongside the live action,
while the former design and incorporate the screens for a more encompassing and
tightly synched audio-visual entertainment. This can be especially big issue if
a band returns to the same audience pool year after year with the same old show
— it looks and feels tired. </div>
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When Eric Church sat down to design this tour, someone must
have said something along these lines: instead of erecting our set behind a big
curtain while the crowd waits after the opening act leaves the stage, and then
turning the house lights out when the band goes on for a splashy POW moment,
why don’t we just clear off the opening act’s equipment and leave a completely
empty stage? The crowd will be puzzled at first, and then grow massively
excited trying to figure out how on earth the band will get on stage! </div>
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And then someone else must have said: OK, let’s do it. </div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i>
is here to say it worked. Church and his axe men strode out to mics, while the
drum kit and drummer lowered from the roof of the arena to a pretzel-type stage
set amidst the audience at one end of the floor. What this set-up allowed was
for a dazzling array of lighting effects to go into effect – both from the
stage itself and from above, in a series of lights that were raised and lowered
like giant cage bars made of translucent color. The screen, such as it was, and
speakers sat above the stage, small and four-sided, so everyone could get a
view. </div>
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The result was a dynamic and exciting set. The only drawback
was for the fans seated in the arena’s upper decks, for whom the small screens
were mostly obscured, resulting in our not being able to see any of the
performers in any detail at all — they remained tiny figures for the entire
show. At least big screens can let those fans see a singer’s face once in a
while. And while we’re at it, the multi-direction speakers delivered a lot of
muffled sound that appeared to pick up and incorporate echoes due to its
central location; anything less than very clear enunciation got lost. While
this aspect wasn’t so bad for Church himself, it was a disaster for Dwight
Yoakam, whose style didn’t lend itself to this set-up at all. Mostly he sounded
like someone who doesn’t know the lyrics making speech-like sounds in their
place, which is surely not the case. </div>
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About Church’s show: suffice it to say that it was, as he
promised, “the shit.” Church is practiced enough of a performer to deliver a
tight, loud, musical, crowd-pleasing entertainment package as anyone you will
ever see. The addition of Joanna Cotten to provide her inimitable backing
vocals and duet services is a delight (girl can wail). </div>
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Also: Church played “Carolina,” a song <i>The Inky Jukebox</i> never thought she’d hear him sing and had all but given up on. SCORE!<br />
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<i>The Inky Jukebox</i> has just a few observations, this being her
fifth Church show. </div>
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1) Church played all the usual suspects form his back
catalogue EXCEPT “Love Your Love The Most,” which is also conspicuously missing
from his live album. What gives? </div>
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2) It would have been great to hear some songs from The
Outsiders which are possibly AMAZING live, such as: “Roller Coaster Ride,”
“Like A Wrecking Ball,” and “The Joint.” What gives? <br />
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3) While it is cute and possibly dangerous to commit to play
a song an audience member picks, it can backfire spectacularly, and not in the
way you might expect: sure, you could forget the words or someone could pick a
lesser-known song from the Caldwell County EP — or someone could pick their own
personal favorite song, which also happens to be a song you’ve played a ZILLION
times at every show. The crowd, which has the possibility of a delightful
surprise ahead of them (what will he play? Something obscure? Something he
doesn’t usually play and which I’ve never heard him do live?) can grow
disgruntled if it seems like a wasted opportunity (as it was in Pittsburgh last
night). What gives?</div>
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4) Encores. Audiences expect them. Towards the end of a
show, the audience will start thinking about what song(s) they are going to be
treated to as an encore. Sure, ending with “Springsteen” makes for a good
show-ender (it was what he ended the last tour with), but with no especially
different treatment than any other big hit, and no indication that this would
be the last song, it is a bit confusing when the house lights go on signaling,
unexpectedly, the end. No band introductions? No particular thank you to the
crowd? No take-a-bow? What gives? </div>
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All of this being said, Eric Church is an artist at the top
of his game, and puts on a hell of a show. See him at all costs. </div>
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<b>SET LIST (In no particular order)</b></div>
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<u>Sinners Like Me</u></div>
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Sinners Like Me</div>
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Pledge Allegiance to ht Hag</div>
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Before She Does</div>
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These Boots</div>
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Guys Like Me</div>
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<u>Carolina</u></div>
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Carolina</div>
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Lotta Boot Left To Fill</div>
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Smoke a Little Smoke</div>
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<u>Chief</u></div>
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Country Music Jesus</div>
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Jack Daniels</div>
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Springsteen</div>
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I’m Getting Stoned</div>
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Homeboy</div>
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Drink in my Hand</div>
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Creepin’</div>
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Over When It’s Over</div>
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<u>The Outsiders</u></div>
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The Outsiders</div>
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That’s Damn Rock and Roll</div>
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Dark Side</div>
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Devil Devil</div>
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Give me Back my Hometown</div>
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Talladega</div>
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Cold One</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-64790322228848380882014-09-07T10:19:00.000-04:002014-09-07T10:19:33.431-04:00Sheryl Crow Rocks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The breakout star of last night’s Rascal Flatts show at
Burgettstown turns out to be someone who’s already had, in her own words, “a
long career.” While the Flatts put on their usual slickly produced modern
country / aw shucks revival spectacle, it was Ms. Crow’s opening hour-long set
which made the price of admission seem cheap. By the time she came onstage, the
sun’s last glow had all but dropped from the sky, and the massive crowd was in
place, tailgating having wrapped up early due to the drizzle. If Crow thought
“this is a perfect opportunity to blow the lid off this joint,” she was right.
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It is no secret that Sheryl Crow has given up the pretense
of being anything other than a country singer in recent years. Perhaps this is
because country music has expanded to include her kind of sound in its
ever-widening definition of the genre. Listening to her deliver classics from
deep in her catalogue last night made <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Inky Jukebox</i> hear them in a new light, where they sounded fresh and
relevant — the sing of a good song if ever there was one. In particular was an exquisite
version of “Redemption Day,” which likely only those as old as Crow in the
audience will recall from her early work, but which was recorded by Johnny Cash
late in his life and only recently released. His vocal made an appearance for a
verse, and it didn’t seem at all forced or sentimental. It was during this song
that Crow also demonstrated one of what would be many subtle examples of her
experience and professionalism as a performer, when she gentled the song down
to whisper-level, the crowd completely rapt, before ramping it up with emotion
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It was this display of utter confidence as an entertainer
that impressed and surprised <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky
Jukebox</i> the most. Crow treads the stage with aplomb, and lets her astounding
range and vocal acuity free to improvise the way good singers know they can,
the band completely behind her. She plays a mean guitar, but a meaner
harmonica. Oh Lordy, can she wield that thing like a blues master — at one
point breaking “Best of Times" down into one long rollicking harmonica-driven train ride
hurtling the song and the crowd down tracks to who knows where; no-one cared;
it was great.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/7kObuw1AHPs" width="560"></iframe>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Crow appeared to really be having fun up there, and the
crowd was on its feet dancing and applauding loudly after each song. She looked
in fine form physically and stylistically too; many a younger female singer
could take a page from her book. When she re-appeared later on to perform two
songs with Rascal Flatts, she added a bit of much-needed sexy spark to what
always feels a bit over-rehearsed when it comes to their “ad-lib” sections.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/0v1MH2MPBoA" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you have the chance to go see her, do. She’s better in
person that on record, which is saying something. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-22077521810857748922014-07-28T23:00:00.000-04:002014-07-29T12:49:06.437-04:00The Grabby Problem (and Mr. Velvet Hands)<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiucepI6OXKBConaLca4a4xAIVAvBgNuzdvQ7BxZUVWvoQ2Ghfd5DRYoxsTpTuxjFKqohtkkIXLcocUyT9d4Vsh61IBzL1HBXHxbI55z70zWURjxcAs8RconnA0e6OqMVl7L3FxYsjIqw0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-07-28+at+10.33.42+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiucepI6OXKBConaLca4a4xAIVAvBgNuzdvQ7BxZUVWvoQ2Ghfd5DRYoxsTpTuxjFKqohtkkIXLcocUyT9d4Vsh61IBzL1HBXHxbI55z70zWURjxcAs8RconnA0e6OqMVl7L3FxYsjIqw0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-07-28+at+10.33.42+PM.png" height="400" width="308" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fan grabbing some ass. Looks like she’s married too. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So you spend a small fortune on a concert ticket in the pit
next to the stage — why? You won’t be far enough from the stage to get a good
look at it; your entire view will be of the legs of the performers, and a
severely telescoped look at their heads. Your view will be impeded by a forest
of hands holding up phones. The sound will not be engineered to resonate well
at this distance. You will not be able to sit down. You will be squashed. You
do it for proximity: the opportunity to make physical contact with the star.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Everyone on the economic end of the concert experience knows
this; it’s why the star will devote considerable time during the show to
slapping hands with those in the front rows. Some will even sit down on the
edge of the stage to sing a song or two, legs dangling perilously among the
fans. Stages are designed to facilitate this, with their promontories
stretching out in configurations allowing for maximum front-row exposure. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And if you weren’t quite close enough to shake hands during
the show, or just missed by an inch? Then if you hang around afterwards,
chances are the star will too, staying to sign autographs as the house lights
come up and the crowd files out. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s one of the big perks of the ticket price. But has the
expectation of physical contact become so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">de
rigueur</i> that it seems a right to those who pay for the privilege? If you’re
an excited, perhaps tipsy lady with a powerful crush on the star, where do you
draw the line between being satisfied with the momentary hand touch and a
full-on grope? What if you have the opportunity, and could reach the denim-clad
crown jewels, say — the bull’s-eye — would you? And if you’re the star, how
close do you let the ladies get to your wedding tackle? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> has seen phone footage of the crotches of singers
so close to the lens that surely, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">surely</i>,
such an opportunistic grope would have been not only possible, but possibly
invited. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some entertainers have reached a point in their careers
where this sort of thing — the grabby problem — is a known issue. Tim McGraw,
for example. There was the famous incident in which his wife, Faith Hill,
freaked out on a grabby fan after she groped him onstage. There was a mixed
reaction: on the one hand, folks thought Faith was being a tad Mama Bear in
going after the fan; on the other, folks wondered why Tim himself didn’t
respond in the same way.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/eSDJe4I8h0A" width="420"></iframe>
</div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Skip forward a few years, and here we are again: some woman
makes a grab for McGraw’s well-muscled leg (and more?) — but this time, his
wife isn’t around to kick ass, so he swats the offending<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>intrusion away. The trouble is, he
makes contact with the woman’s face instead of her hand. And all hell breaks
loose. Did he intend to slap a bitch? Of course not. He’s in the middle of a
song. Did he do what he felt was immediately necessary to extricate himself?
Yes. Case closed. The woman, however, is gunning for revenge (or an apology and
cash), for the humiliation. Let’s get this clear: she reached for him, first,
not the other way around. Case closed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/XhhZM83_GpI" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tim McGraw is a veteran performer; he never fails to tell
the audience this, as if anyone in the crowd didn’t already know. He is fully
aware of what the ladies want. They want to touch his crotch. They want a “Real
Good Man.” They do not want “Truck Yeah” or “Mexicoma” to make a set list ever again.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i>
has witnessed McGraw interrupt a show to ask fans to remove their beers from
the stage. He cited safety reasons. The fans at McGraw shows are humped so
close to the stage upon which he struts that there is nowhere else for them to
rest their beers. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Does this mean Tim McGraw must now push his stage back to
create distance between him and his fans? Does it mean no more hand-slapping
during shows? Or does it mean that people need to respect the basic social
boundaries that prevent us from grabbing at what we want whether we're in the
front row of a show or at the supermarket? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes, an iPhone crotch-cam close-up has to be enough to
satisfy. Gentlemen: take heed. Except Luke Bryan. Dude already has that angle
covered.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/YsB_FCJ_YSk" width="420"></iframe>
</div>
<br />
(And Justin Moore: don’t stop. OK, you play bigger venues now, and have three kids. But still.)<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIeujNDi2Zz3MuRiW32QhRPF3y27ACOMAsHJrVTxTxOuE-yDQlV4RsmHk_JmOeZ3QgtMgBk2chsV9eHw3CP-2ShvQAUdfHYtGzgwMnnz-Mkt3NyzpQKYOjITajVjwbSNk8W5-YusF7ic/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-07-28+at+10.35.20+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIeujNDi2Zz3MuRiW32QhRPF3y27ACOMAsHJrVTxTxOuE-yDQlV4RsmHk_JmOeZ3QgtMgBk2chsV9eHw3CP-2ShvQAUdfHYtGzgwMnnz-Mkt3NyzpQKYOjITajVjwbSNk8W5-YusF7ic/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-07-28+at+10.35.20+PM.png" height="267" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whoa, lady! What you grabbin’ at? (Picture cropped.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-782544905633108762014-07-17T18:18:00.000-04:002014-07-17T18:25:52.310-04:00Rascal Flatts (A Little Too Fabulous!)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZYSSYWgd5iPERCONB9obvJAl_nlo1ChQazwZ3NnhvGXYO7WuC5XJBczAMCgQWLJTUQ85UhM_Or6srp6ugr5RJ0kkY5rzeePVaJXKzRlv_NmZ83AJqUvrrNWeYbJGd5wNEsQ6TxbnSfVE/s1600/1400261877.36166.RF3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZYSSYWgd5iPERCONB9obvJAl_nlo1ChQazwZ3NnhvGXYO7WuC5XJBczAMCgQWLJTUQ85UhM_Or6srp6ugr5RJ0kkY5rzeePVaJXKzRlv_NmZ83AJqUvrrNWeYbJGd5wNEsQ6TxbnSfVE/s1600/1400261877.36166.RF3.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Come hither. Moody. Smoldering. Cock your pinkie. Forget the camera’s there. Or not. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rascal Flatts are known for making crisp, impeccably
arranged country pop songs of a squeaky clean nature. The trio can play and can
sing. They are consummate musicians. Every now and then a song of theirs will
hit every single target on a made-for-radio cheat sheet: melody, lyric,
composition, emotion, catchiness, punching the money notes, and their secret
weapon: Gary Le Vox’s ability to skewer the sweet note right in the gonads at
just the right moment so that it rings in your ears and brain like a temple
bell. These are not notes a normal mortal person can hit; nor are they merely
notes on a scale. They are the note plus the right timbre. What Rascal Flatts
doesn’t need is studio tweaking (even though their recordings sound as polished
as glass).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And yet someone thinks that what the group lacks in musical
polish they need to make up for in visual buffing. Case in point: the liner
notes for <i>Rewind</i>. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitEIJr_r_jAYGmGfLPcIzx-D-bnJEAaq9_w71WMe2n7HoMsYysK7a1LeQomBMYTsKm1lU7wWzIkY-WLPZyjAyYyLEADdG5LTEkMrZglx28cgC68oIDavQxal2NPTRevj0HcfZ65lkp13I/s1600/1400261866.16695.RF2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitEIJr_r_jAYGmGfLPcIzx-D-bnJEAaq9_w71WMe2n7HoMsYysK7a1LeQomBMYTsKm1lU7wWzIkY-WLPZyjAyYyLEADdG5LTEkMrZglx28cgC68oIDavQxal2NPTRevj0HcfZ65lkp13I/s1600/1400261866.16695.RF2.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We’re just casually sitting here, legs akimbo, pondering this shotoshoot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The album is liberally decorated with artfully arranged
shots of all three men assuming poses that would not be out of place in a 1970s
swimwear catalogue. If there’s a chummy male smoldering look they haven’t gone
for, it doesn’t exist.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihm2hPBFhbl4kClF3vaoIlFFMo3NkEf2WN9iCXkc2bC5m2yYY07WKRsW_g3c4WI2Got84sEyhGFQVwsNfIAXkD5D4fHTzRz2_QqiorErY0IHIB9i5uQb7Qj_nj1wZq99RFB4sSAMDXFYQ/s1600/max1401696489-back-cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihm2hPBFhbl4kClF3vaoIlFFMo3NkEf2WN9iCXkc2bC5m2yYY07WKRsW_g3c4WI2Got84sEyhGFQVwsNfIAXkD5D4fHTzRz2_QqiorErY0IHIB9i5uQb7Qj_nj1wZq99RFB4sSAMDXFYQ/s1600/max1401696489-back-cover.jpg" height="313" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three beefcheeses on a leather sofa on a riser just hanging out the way men do. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dudes don’t usually adopt these stances, and when they do —
on a dare, say — and the results captured on camera and then shown to other
people, they die of embarrassment. Gary, Joe Don and Jay all vie for the
cringeworthy crown — with Joe Don leading the field due to his hair game,
meticulously and impossibly coiffed and highlighted in such a way that his chin
bristle struggles to remind us he’s a man. Don’t even mention the teefs. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ShyO8PoLYP7NhGN7kNOl5Fmr3gKnqMnF0zQONAEbQupcEjEnrmDMHceHdXBFRQk3icm-aM6IAgt9WwPfr7_OgP3wLWE8xxLu5otiRUhxGBoyO68vXgM6xnaMjWoHSxdmUZwG2dOKlTI/s1600/Rascal_Flatts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ShyO8PoLYP7NhGN7kNOl5Fmr3gKnqMnF0zQONAEbQupcEjEnrmDMHceHdXBFRQk3icm-aM6IAgt9WwPfr7_OgP3wLWE8xxLu5otiRUhxGBoyO68vXgM6xnaMjWoHSxdmUZwG2dOKlTI/s1600/Rascal_Flatts.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wonders of Photoshoppe made this “group” shot possible! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Look: <i>The Inky Jukebox</i>
loves the Flatts — they are essential when it comes to singing along loudly in
your car — but Good Lord, Big Machine: lay off the Photoshoppe (misspelling
intended), and hire a less flamboyant Art Director will ya? (Even if that means
firing your wife.)<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/n3Jg5BDggpg" width="560"></iframe></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-4169906628589361802014-06-23T17:53:00.000-04:002014-06-24T12:01:52.407-04:00Luke Bryan’s Great Show Overshadowed by Trashtalk<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Trashgate 2014: Oh, the Humanity! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgghqNMAXZBuAK0RDr4tMQ3ezNElOoYpo1yilTHWD94f_2YJCkAIptvC2CWclB4NUu5PbE8-U2aiqmgstxUr3tnVPlJlhqVtKXt0GF2-WIzttSd5a_3F2J91Xf3q0wv5T_58PAN5nYzX5I/s1600/IMG_1716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgghqNMAXZBuAK0RDr4tMQ3ezNElOoYpo1yilTHWD94f_2YJCkAIptvC2CWclB4NUu5PbE8-U2aiqmgstxUr3tnVPlJlhqVtKXt0GF2-WIzttSd5a_3F2J91Xf3q0wv5T_58PAN5nYzX5I/s1600/IMG_1716.JPG" height="181" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what the stadium looked like BEFORE the tailgaters filled the stadium</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
On June 21, Luke Bryan, Dierks Bentley, Lee Brice and Cole
Swindell rolled into town looking to party —and party they did, delivering a
rippingly entertaining evening of music to a record-breaking crowd of happy
fans. This was Bryan’s first stadium show as a headliner, and as such promised
to be something memorable: what would he do, given the enormity of the venue
and occasion? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOjY7-cuPdC3AvJFtL42Cp_0GGCSkRu7HZZxDXvHdClnDWQBqOoxomGrkcX0Q188NHpPtbogURfa_K0CGxTtAFioOKbGW6mvKHlXdKQea1_emM2Zf3hGlavN-1WX6gPV5NeIdQuUcRQeY/s1600/IMG_1844.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOjY7-cuPdC3AvJFtL42Cp_0GGCSkRu7HZZxDXvHdClnDWQBqOoxomGrkcX0Q188NHpPtbogURfa_K0CGxTtAFioOKbGW6mvKHlXdKQea1_emM2Zf3hGlavN-1WX6gPV5NeIdQuUcRQeY/s1600/IMG_1844.jpg" height="400" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luke Bryan with rally cap on</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rise up out of the ground astride a stuck? Punctuate hit
songs with fire works? Invite each one of his opening acts onstage for a
special duet? Yes to all of the above. As far as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> is concerned, pretty much every one of the 53,000
fans had an awesome time. Did a few get drunk? Why yes they did. Had many been
holding their own parking lot parties all day? Why yes they had. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNlj0qd-4TrER2lImsdfbLM7iMvuBNP9vWwpfTYNw7oEKkX2fiyvudgk76vrqtqyC2u7NROWaE8i3w8GH-XBunl1MEO-1Eerr_oY1L_hPJhKkMzgRDvd-f9L4yaWYV7BlFnTqlySc9-Jo/s1600/IMG_1797.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNlj0qd-4TrER2lImsdfbLM7iMvuBNP9vWwpfTYNw7oEKkX2fiyvudgk76vrqtqyC2u7NROWaE8i3w8GH-XBunl1MEO-1Eerr_oY1L_hPJhKkMzgRDvd-f9L4yaWYV7BlFnTqlySc9-Jo/s1600/IMG_1797.jpg" height="400" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luke Bryan doing a little drinking of his own</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The only thing you’ll hear or read about the concert is the furor
generated by the trash left in the pre-paid lots in a city still reeling,
apparently, with high dudgeon over last year’s Kenny Chesney show. The trash,
however, is not what should be causing outrage here: it’s the complete loss of journalistic
integrity and ignorant bandwagon-jumping by people who ought to know better and
who weren’t there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJiMfuUDWPqXQxrew8HkrSgKwdc4Iim-HJimM-obciqYcpEKi3UKJV1TqfI5aQ0fz2B-48p90hRlOfrve5uUAzWmvpZJjS_zxNzsZxzs5oEYdRGdnVcdfJAK1hdp_1X-HeNtRw-VmFwo/s1600/IMG_1502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJiMfuUDWPqXQxrew8HkrSgKwdc4Iim-HJimM-obciqYcpEKi3UKJV1TqfI5aQ0fz2B-48p90hRlOfrve5uUAzWmvpZJjS_zxNzsZxzs5oEYdRGdnVcdfJAK1hdp_1X-HeNtRw-VmFwo/s1600/IMG_1502.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lee Brice, Mr. "Parking Lot Party"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i>
is appalled to find that some of her fellow Pittsburghers and online friends of
friends have gone so far (into their own sense of moral outrage) to call for a
ban on drinking and concerts in the city, a special tax on anyone entering the
city, and for country music fans to leave town. Can you HEAR yourselves, y’all?
Seriously? The only shit that needs to stop RIGHT NOW is this nonsense. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXW2cpcR5k5vmmeeVgAV10z_tCQ3VxLf-hhvZ6LMnI9IHuclKmoG8iHvudonDLMSETTMVSiV3GPw74E-2R1_YY42Ql46oXKGx4o0KsEBw4K7bhezhTHz59Bb1kH9ae53_OKEYwtI0Zxw/s1600/IMG_1704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUXW2cpcR5k5vmmeeVgAV10z_tCQ3VxLf-hhvZ6LMnI9IHuclKmoG8iHvudonDLMSETTMVSiV3GPw74E-2R1_YY42Ql46oXKGx4o0KsEBw4K7bhezhTHz59Bb1kH9ae53_OKEYwtI0Zxw/s1600/IMG_1704.jpg" height="400" width="257" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dierks Bentley, Mr. "Drunk on a Plane"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here is a list of considerations the Trash-Talkers have
failed to educate themselves about concerning this concert. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The notion that plenty
of concerts are held at Heinz Field (home of the Steelers), and only country
music fans desecrate the parking lots. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Actually, Heinz Field has only seen five concerts in the
past three years: Kenny Chesney (twice); Taylor Swift (twice); and Luke Bryan.
As far as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> can tell,
all of these acts are Country. I don't recall people complaining about Taylor Swift tailgaters. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Only people not from
Pittsburgh attend these shows. Only people from Pittsburgh attend these shows.
No Steelers fans attend these shows. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All three are dead wrong. The summer shows at Heinz Field
attract an enormous fan base for country music that stretches from Philadelphia
to Columbus, Cleveland and down to West Virginia. Not all stadium acts perform
at other venues. The crowd consists of people who have driven a LONG way to be
here; sailed up and down river to be here, and include a large proportion of
Steelers fans. Many of these fans appreciated the tribute to the late Chuck
Noll that Bryan thoughtfully included in his show. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This was a
run-of-the-mill show. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No it wasn’t: it’s the only show at Heinz field this year
(Chesney and Swift aren’t touring, and it was the biggest-ever crowd Heinz
Field has EVER had for a concert. It was also Luke Bryan’s first EVER stadium
show, and therefore of some historic significance that drew an unusually large
crowd from far afield. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">All the parking lots
in downtown Pittsburgh and which service the stadium were completely trashed by
reckless, irresponsible rednecks. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not so. Only the PRE-PAID stadium lots had a trash problem;
they were the lots designated for TAILGATING, a great American tradition
engaged in not only by country fans, but by concert-goers and sports fans
EVERYWHERE, including STEELERS FANS AND PANTHER FANS AT HEINZ FIELD IN THE
FOOTBALL SEASON. In order to manage the inflow of traffic from 53,000 people in
a city with Pittsburgh’s topography, it makes sense to designate parking lots
for those who are coming from afar and who pay for the privilege of parking in
advance with their ticket. These lots open at 9AM, and come with rules which
fans are made aware of. They include directions about trash collection, and
specifically close in time to allow workers to begin trash clean-up during the
show. Parkers are not only invited and expected to tailgate, but they are told
that the parking lot authorities will be cleaning up. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Concert-goers have no
idea what to do with their trash, so, not caring, they leave it everywhere. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pre-paid Lot parkers are given two garbage bags when they
enter the Lot: one for recyclables, and one for garbage. These they leave by
their vehicle when they enter the show, so that the crew can take them away.
However, the crew have nowhere to put them, because dumpsters – or enough
dumpsters - have not been provided. Therefore, they pile up near the exits.
When cars leave, they run over bags, splitting them, and scattering trash. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Concert-goers are riotous
drunken rednecks who should not be allowed near a civilized city. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tailgaters are there to party. They grill food; they drink
beers; they play games. They listen to music. They have fun. This is what
tailgaters of every stripe do. The tailgaters at Luke Bryan’s show (and Kenny
Chesney’s shows) have been there since 9AM when the Lots open, partying. By the
time they have to leave the Lot at 8PM, they have been at it for 11 straight
hours. People generate a lot of trash in confined spaces over 11 hours. They
drink a lot of beer. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Country music fans
urinate everywhere like pigs. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you have been drinking beer for 11 hours, wouldn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> have to pee? Even if you’d only had
one beer, or a glass of lemonade, or even water — over the course of 11 hours,
wouldn’t you have to pee? No matter how old you were, wouldn’t you have to pee?
And where would you go? The Lot authorities didn’t provide enough port-a-johns
to service 53,000 people. That’s a fact. Lines were long and the average wait
was 45 minutes. Hold it for 45 minutes and tell me you wouldn’t pee wherever
you could. Ten arrests were made for public urination. Only ten!!!! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Drunken country music
fans got fisty. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
True, several fans got into fights. Hey; they’d been
drinking. The same can be said of any football game on any given weekend. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why didn’t these
hooligans transport their own trash home with them?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is no room in the trunk for bags of trash after you’ve
put the folding table and chairs in your trunk, and the cooler and the grill.
Leaving sticky bags of liquid and food garbage in your locked car for several
hours in the midsummer heat won’t make your car smell nice when you drive home.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Surely there is room
in an RV for trash. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
RVs weren’t allowed in the lots. Only passenger cars. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Police were there
to help. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a huge Police presence at the show. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> spent an hour after it
ended watching them stand around doing nothing to assist a horrible traffic
situation caused by people trying to exit lots into the highway entrance lanes,
causing gridlock. This caused people in trucks to circumvent the exits and
drive over trash bags in the dark. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOAmRMR02fOX3hPXKRlpEVPxFYg8HMqCCPOzf-nqRZuri0HUYIpjfW2FepjlimtbWV4rNTFGC_y232WXlnElF0xVPjzYO8qPhAwrDkZJwa4sIFCIby2aodw7bP5Ap8SFjYR-P4nZkZrIE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-06-22+at+3.59.13+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOAmRMR02fOX3hPXKRlpEVPxFYg8HMqCCPOzf-nqRZuri0HUYIpjfW2FepjlimtbWV4rNTFGC_y232WXlnElF0xVPjzYO8qPhAwrDkZJwa4sIFCIby2aodw7bP5Ap8SFjYR-P4nZkZrIE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-06-22+at+3.59.13+PM.png" height="135" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It was Luke Bryan’s
fault. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Get real. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWK_Pm5Q-D8fJxMmLenQziPLNBF6EqGfyL3AcpoKHuMMjg9tXHqA7xyzcHtkUUTu7W2QCg1TMDHTze9YzIoTTsE-ULMlETgt6r_52rtWS3bOpyANHstNITdEG8709l6tWWqI5YMZzcXPk/s1600/IMG_1616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWK_Pm5Q-D8fJxMmLenQziPLNBF6EqGfyL3AcpoKHuMMjg9tXHqA7xyzcHtkUUTu7W2QCg1TMDHTze9YzIoTTsE-ULMlETgt6r_52rtWS3bOpyANHstNITdEG8709l6tWWqI5YMZzcXPk/s1600/IMG_1616.jpg" height="400" width="316" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dierks expresses how we all feel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Also bear in mind that, as the Mayor admitted, all of the
lots were cleaned “spotless” by 10AM the next morning, by workers paid to do
so. The stadium lots are not themselves in residential neighborhoods; who was
inconvenienced? I am sure the tax-paying city workers who earned overtime were
glad to make a bit of cash. I am sure the City itself was glad of the fee it
charged the promoter to host the concert. I am sure Heinz Field vendors made
bank. I am certain the bars and restaurants in the area all did smashing
business. The Pittsburgh Parking Authority cashed in on all that downtown
parking. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know that no-one to whom this post is aimed will likely
read it, but someone has to offer a counterpoint to the crazy-ass blown-out-of-proportion
incendiary and utterly biased reporting (and posting, and re-posting) that’s
going on out there. Get it together, Pittsburgh. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The End. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-62477901772175012952014-02-11T19:50:00.001-05:002014-02-11T19:50:15.871-05:00Eric Church: The Outsider Who Came in From The Cold<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH1Cu8XAnWhcKTNOFoeB5W53cnAkY2hvQmDEhQPF7R90Ge5FNZsyVRUWxdo1RgP0Ziq9bM-75VYLDedZijqwwUb0Sb78Y4vc8OvxWrh8RJopFRj837fSH3J7w3_dEp4clagfY9duNo2iE/s1600/outsiders.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH1Cu8XAnWhcKTNOFoeB5W53cnAkY2hvQmDEhQPF7R90Ge5FNZsyVRUWxdo1RgP0Ziq9bM-75VYLDedZijqwwUb0Sb78Y4vc8OvxWrh8RJopFRj837fSH3J7w3_dEp4clagfY9duNo2iE/s1600/outsiders.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At exactly the one-minute mark of the song “Broke Record,”
perceptive listeners will notice Eric Church’s inside joke — the record skips.
Deliberately. Of course, it isn’t a record and cannot skip; the glitch has been
built in digitally. But look at the song’s title — perfect. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s just this sort of smart musicianship that makes <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Outsiders</i>, his wildly adventurous
latest album, a mind-blower that rewards both those fans who have followed his
particular brand of musical expression since the beginning, as well as those
persuaded to check him out because he’s become <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rolling Stone’s</i> country darling. </div>
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If there’s anything that even a first listen of this album
will tell you is that it’s not business as usual. It transcends genre, for one
thing. Sure, Church is unabashedly a country artist — but the independence he’s
insisted on during his career has paid off in having the cajones to release a
record who pays dues to no-one. Notice is given immediately in the opening
title track, which rattles with metal guitar riffs and overlays, soaring after
a particularly sexy guitar rip that practically says “we ain’t done yet, no
sir.” </div>
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“Wrecking Ball” delivers heat through a vocal track high on
reverb, complete with a Hammond C-3 accompaniment which strongly recalls Procol
Harem’s “White Shade of Pale.” <br />
<br />
"Roller Coaster Ride" includes pure synth touches and ugly low-key piano before lifting us up on a rise that pops your stomach the way a real roller coaster does. </div>
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<br /></div>
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There’s a spoken word intro to “Devil Devil,” a cautionary
tale, which was recorded in a parking lot on a phone. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Any song titled “That’s Damn Rock & Roll” requires a
kick-ass female voice wailing in the background, and this one has it in Joanna
Cotton’s gutsy vocal. The Rock & Roll featured here is reminiscent of glam
rock in the best possible way. </div>
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<br /></div>
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“A Man Who Was Gonna Die Young,” “Dark Side,” and Talladega”
are all classic acoustic Eric Church songs whose storytelling and exquisite
guitar playing are beautiful. </div>
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<br /></div>
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“Give Me Back My Hometown” is an obvious single which seems
to pay homage to U2’s big anthemic sound. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The last track, “The Joint” is about as close as you can get
to David Essex’s iconic 1973 hit “Rock On” as it’s possible to get without
paying royalties. This album goes beyond Chief’s “Smoke A Little Smoke” / “Jack
Daniels” ethos by actually taking us into that woozy cloud. The way-slow reggae
trombone is a touch of genius. Listen on headphones. </div>
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One of the best compliments <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> can pay this album is that it sounds like no
other. It forges completely new ground. It is transcendent. </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-90451581578559430862014-01-27T18:55:00.002-05:002014-01-27T18:55:10.421-05:00Grammys 21014 Recap<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Grammys 2014</span></div>
<br />
The <i>Grammys</i> can be a mixed bag when it comes to live performances: with such a large stage, some acts really go all-out and create unforgettable and even career-building moments, while others aim a little too high and crash and burn. Complicating the mix is the production, which might cut your performance short or juxtapose you with an entirely unrelated genre.<br />
<br />
Last night's <i>Grammys</i> were no different. The great performances were great; the awful performances were awful; and in-between there were real duds performed by surviving Beatles who really ought to demur and gracefully turn down the self-indulgent airtime. McCartney is no longer writing good music. Let it be, eh, Paul?<br />
<br />
First, the duds: Lorde looked ghoulish and her herky-jerky dance style made it look like she was always on the verge of tossing her cookies. Ringo sang the extremely tired "Photograph" while doing what looked like a circulation-stimulation shuffle at the Old People's Home. It's Ringo, people. And Madonna looked like a hobbling cautionary tale all gaudied up in her suits and hats and pimp cane. What happened to British Madge? Wigger Madge ate her. Shiver.<br />
<br />
Now the stars: Because this is the <i>Inky Jukebox</i>, we'll focus on the way Country represented, and boy, did they. Keith Urban showed all the haters why it's good to have real musicians who know about music as <i>American Idol</i> judges. Now, all he has to do is work on his sad hair situation, pronto.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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</div>
<br />
Hunter Hayes showed the young'uns what a genuine talent is — including stage presence — and he didn't even pick up a guitar! <i>Rolling Stone</i> dissed him for the trite quotations that loomed large in the background, but that might not have been his idea, y'know?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
And we don't care how much people make fun of Taylor Swift — girlfriend can deliver a performance like this in a ballgown and heels, y'all. Apart from winning the Red Carpet in her sparkly gown, she also reminded us that this is a concert, and got up and danced. Ain't no lip-synching here (Beyonce).<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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</div>
<br />
Kacey Musgraves was cute as a button in her throwback rockahillbilly outfit and neon cacti, but we wonder who was still watching as her spot fell hard upon Imagine Dragons's supersonic set. Congrats, by the way, on that whole Album of the Year thing. A very Grammy idea of country music.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/WJ_rej6idrQ" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The Willie / Merle / Kris / Blake quartet was quite lovely too — even if it rolled out the same old tired notion that a genre named "Country & Western" still exists and is populated by old men in cowboy hats and bolero ties called "Highwaymen."Eric Church — wherefore wert thou? </div>
<br />
Finally - can we persuade John Legend to try Nashville?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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</div>
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-43113114756010719332014-01-21T21:07:00.003-05:002014-01-21T21:07:53.105-05:00Dustin Lynch - The Hurricane Cometh<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6eojcZAf9sGblz5H_eyd8h1njQDpsD7x3ByD-OlBQxAlkw7jwmM_CJb0zEFgtc80kDrOX7lddIAc6Lf7lJ-RLCA3fEbS9CdlcEaiCMWWDsGZ6iY8E2Wp_LvbnApvPcD2_NDL_L5k-F0/s1600/Dustin+Lynch+dustinlynchmain.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6eojcZAf9sGblz5H_eyd8h1njQDpsD7x3ByD-OlBQxAlkw7jwmM_CJb0zEFgtc80kDrOX7lddIAc6Lf7lJ-RLCA3fEbS9CdlcEaiCMWWDsGZ6iY8E2Wp_LvbnApvPcD2_NDL_L5k-F0/s1600/Dustin+Lynch+dustinlynchmain.png" height="320" width="310" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well hello there</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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When the video for “Cowboys and Angels” first came on the radio,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox’</i>s ears pricked up;
here was a very nice tune sung well. The general theme was a bit clichéd, but
oh well. Then, when the video appeared, The Inky Jukebox sighed: here was just
another pretty boy giving it the good old Nashville go. Seemingly too
good-looking to be genuine, Dustin Lynch might be the only singer in history actually
hampered by handsomeness. <br />
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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This became apparent when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> relented and got Lynch’s self-titled debut album —
late to the game, as it was released in 2012, but six months later, it still
hasn’t left the car, having been on pretty constant rotation ever since. Damn,
but it’s a good record. </div>
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<br /></div>
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While “Cowboys and Angels” is clearly a made for radio
record, Lynch has been underserved by Broken Bow, who put out the lead track “She
Cranks My Tractor” as a follow-up. It’s a raucous double-entendre up-tempo
romp, nothing like “Cowboys” but obviously an attempt to showcase another side
of this versatile singer-songwriter. Then they went with “Wild In Your Smile,”
which is just too retro for today’s charts. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Instead, they should have gone with two other tracks which
really stand out. “Hurricane” is an anthem they clearly ignored because it’s another
ballad — stupid move. It’s great. It’s even better live, where the band gives
it a real long, thundery intro before the hook spills over. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then they should have released “Last Lap,” a lazy hip-hop
number that is so laid-back it grooves in your ears long afterwards. (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IwkWmg5ZPWY">Listen to album track here</a>.)<br />
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i>
is a fan. We’ll even forgive him his cuteness. </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-64165549538506775672014-01-10T20:56:00.002-05:002014-01-10T20:56:26.600-05:00Acoustic Swift<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Red</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/WBHTj-Gsoy8" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
<br />
Say what you like about Taylor Swift, this kind of live performance is pretty damn sweet. Add Alison Krauss and Vince Gill for pure class.<br />
<br />
From this year's CMAs.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-21769121858824411222013-12-07T11:00:00.000-05:002013-12-07T11:00:35.045-05:00On The Beaten Path?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Get Your Ass Back Here, Justin Moore</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhovYsoiIPkjTv_3zqxOhUFEJz7oXcV5nARUPnPchvvniREabSz0NEyvZuC3ywbBDfSXdthj0MccoszN7BrNEE8ZsmiQpgnLTRaxTJPT2GXKG6DbS4MDR9qUTcyf1ack1pECAd7vzaJMg4/s1600/Justin+Moore3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhovYsoiIPkjTv_3zqxOhUFEJz7oXcV5nARUPnPchvvniREabSz0NEyvZuC3ywbBDfSXdthj0MccoszN7BrNEE8ZsmiQpgnLTRaxTJPT2GXKG6DbS4MDR9qUTcyf1ack1pECAd7vzaJMg4/s400/Justin+Moore3.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
The title of Justin Moore’s third album, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Off The Beaten Path</i>, suggests that he is
taking his music away from the well-traveled road that artists take by the time
they make their third album. Rather, on this album, Moore turns away from that
backwoods path and veers strongly onto the interstate.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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The overall impression is that this album was given a
massive infusion of money in the form of studio time and additional musicians,
making for a slicker, more highly produced sound. Headphones will confirm that
backing vocals lend weight to choruses, and that high-end guitar soloing tips
each song into a complex audio experience. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The other thing any Moore fan will notice is that this album
leans heavily on ballads and girl-friendly songs. Sure, there is a smattering
of good ole boy in there, but it feels very tame compared to the kind of
material Moore was using to identify himself on his first album.</div>
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The obvious singles — “Point At You,” “Lettin’ The Night
Roll,” and “One Dirt Road” — are buoyed by a great duet with Miranda Lambert
(“Old Habits”) which sounds like an old country classic. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> would like to see “This Kind of Town” highlighted.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i>
went for the Deluxe version (and who wouldn’t?), which features two songs which
ought to be on any non-deluxe version: “Big Ass Headache,” and the Charlie
Daniels duet, “For Some Ol’ Redneck Reason,” but “Field Fulla Hillbillies” is
the weakest Moore song we’ve heard, certainly in terms of its lyricism.<br />
<br /></div>
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The low point on this album comes in the form of a song
which really should have been an extra — preferably a non-numbered final track.
“I’d Want It To Be Yours” is an ode to luscious buttocks, which is cute, but
only the first couple of times you hear it. Thereafter, it sounds like a
gimmick — something which is not helped by the big production it gets on the
record. When <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> first
heard it, it was delivered by Moore, standing alone with his guitar on a small
stage — and in that setting, it worked. But it’s a throwaway song that sounds
like it takes itself too seriously once all the instruments are added. It’s the
one song that immediately gets the FF treatment when it comes on. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i>
has a special place for Justin Moore, and has spent a lot of time with this
album, prior to writing this late review. There’s plenty to like about this
record. We’re glad that he is getting the recognition that he deserves — he
certainly works his ass off for it. But there remains a niggling fear that he’ll
get swept up in the mainstream and drown. Justin Moore can sing. He can really,
really sing. This is drowned out with a huge production that feels like every
note has been tweaked in a machine. </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Inky Jukebox</i> would like to thank the person who took and posted this photo. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Scale it back and simplify. Please. </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-47062655125159583682013-10-02T20:28:00.002-04:002013-10-02T20:28:34.717-04:00My Kind of Night: Luke Bryan Rocks Pittsburgh
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">If You're Not Here To Party — You're Stuck In Traffic</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMd9gqt1aiCbkpKycvZAh90VFykMehyphenhyphenQXNHh_wmvzcz6ebxGk_Yqprm_5KDDBLJTnvEkGZjtvudd9X39I569LBFywwO6TrW6IjMRlf5z5RMI1mHer3hB2L7fvJYtr7U6LXD9-ntFse9JU/s1600/IMG_5018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMd9gqt1aiCbkpKycvZAh90VFykMehyphenhyphenQXNHh_wmvzcz6ebxGk_Yqprm_5KDDBLJTnvEkGZjtvudd9X39I569LBFywwO6TrW6IjMRlf5z5RMI1mHer3hB2L7fvJYtr7U6LXD9-ntFse9JU/s320/IMG_5018.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sing it, Luke</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If Luke Bryan’s “Dirt Road Diary” read “want to grow up to
be the new Tim McGraw,” then his dreams have come true. Earlier this year, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> saw Mr. McGraw’s show
and came away with that sad feeling that she’d just seen a once-bright star
lose some of its twinkle. That’s OK; McGraw’s had his run.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOiMNhRN8bwQMHNhz6jVuGOZN-4GASG-qKUaEBe1CMcrAKCjiOVsU1PqgcbtkYshxGgzYcphXbbqhhyadEKDMD2TvaV-ui9cWBocZpMK5-l2wJRtjDJIJ85ALSQcxto2HcEnNFRb_FLng/s1600/IMG_5021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOiMNhRN8bwQMHNhz6jVuGOZN-4GASG-qKUaEBe1CMcrAKCjiOVsU1PqgcbtkYshxGgzYcphXbbqhhyadEKDMD2TvaV-ui9cWBocZpMK5-l2wJRtjDJIJ85ALSQcxto2HcEnNFRb_FLng/s320/IMG_5021.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p>But that left the stage open for some new handsome buck to
take his place and that man has arrived. His name is Luke “Shake It For Me”
Bryan. As if to prove <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox’s</i>
point, it has just been announced that Bryan’s latest album <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Crash My Party</i> has made the biggest
sales splash for a male artist since McGraw’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Live Like You Were Dying</i> in 2004.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4DyyHslLshByhvNDZqqdN3l_AqtqNjx0v2ecz3bpBZGNj8hf8RceAhzuT5isqYnGwitqeuQRVa7LkShv7f8oBkxI4fm6gY329gyyonBo1r3fPo7197zpkn0vgql03Pu-oCfTbIDKeil0/s1600/IMG_5016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4DyyHslLshByhvNDZqqdN3l_AqtqNjx0v2ecz3bpBZGNj8hf8RceAhzuT5isqYnGwitqeuQRVa7LkShv7f8oBkxI4fm6gY329gyyonBo1r3fPo7197zpkn0vgql03Pu-oCfTbIDKeil0/s320/IMG_5016.JPG" width="288" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who's #1? You are! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bryan slides very easily into that spotlight on his first
headlining tour, with a big ole stack of hits to make a fat set list from and
the moves and singing chops to back it up. In Pittsburgh on September 28<sup>th</sup>,
he proved why he’s the current ACM Entertainer of the Year and delivered some
whoop-ass to close out the concert season. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7qY0tZRqDewKl_8XagzPb5emmLeKrZpSnyHuzjCBC-wNhd3X4cCd9_Lz-g7QCE7hX9qIwr1BJNZOTjs5XzjVBU4cSr634-xtbCqVVa9xxzfIWXp_xz0QOK44m8B-BNTRTfthYyvGnED8/s1600/IMG_5006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7qY0tZRqDewKl_8XagzPb5emmLeKrZpSnyHuzjCBC-wNhd3X4cCd9_Lz-g7QCE7hX9qIwr1BJNZOTjs5XzjVBU4cSr634-xtbCqVVa9xxzfIWXp_xz0QOK44m8B-BNTRTfthYyvGnED8/s320/IMG_5006.JPG" width="245" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Impressive on the big screen. Just sayin'.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He noted that it wasn’t long ago
that this was the very venue of his first amphitheater-sized show (as opening
opener for Sugarland and Brooks & Dunn), and that he vowed that night to
sell this joint out one day. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky
Jukebox</i> can attest that he certainly did that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIRAIKIYpGrN8qrJNl71AyPHLSTUnnmWxjIUaoLCjG-K-56E6PSm5XNgu9vgBqJUx4QOPFB0GTOeQVPTOji5U65B_kuT7xe7DnD9QZKMjiAXamvGE1k9RByJgKY3tpJJ5ZFJfVjqc3pig/s1600/IMG_5052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIRAIKIYpGrN8qrJNl71AyPHLSTUnnmWxjIUaoLCjG-K-56E6PSm5XNgu9vgBqJUx4QOPFB0GTOeQVPTOji5U65B_kuT7xe7DnD9QZKMjiAXamvGE1k9RByJgKY3tpJJ5ZFJfVjqc3pig/s400/IMG_5052.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Close enough to touch, ladies!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were some tell-tale signs: first, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> drove past five (5) miles of cars waiting to get
off at the venue exit and only just made it into the parking area before it
closed. Based on past experience, all of those cars were directed to the
overflow parking in a field a mile away. Yet when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> entered the amphitheater and found her place on
the lawn just before Florida Georgia Line came on, the place looked packed to
capacity already. Now that it’s getting dark early, Thompson Square’s set
opened in the dark, yet folks were still coming in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiklTEC7UxrAxcYW2F77qcpMLeqDig2NE0lJKC6FB9t02psOM4le2RK3gF7G-8QAVL4J93wFTUZkYvhcU6eROWweM5TiG3n8b_-V5yzERgyyKTkBhJf5NL6WNXGh8ok28UNIfZolf8wz48/s1600/IMG_5020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiklTEC7UxrAxcYW2F77qcpMLeqDig2NE0lJKC6FB9t02psOM4le2RK3gF7G-8QAVL4J93wFTUZkYvhcU6eROWweM5TiG3n8b_-V5yzERgyyKTkBhJf5NL6WNXGh8ok28UNIfZolf8wz48/s400/IMG_5020.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Acoustic set with Luke Bryan at piano</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Luke Bryan’s got that mix between country topics and a pop
look and sound; his latest single, “That’s My Kind of Night” features a
club-thump and rap-style lyric, and clearly ruffled a few feathers in traditional
circles. Zac Brown talked trash about it, but I don’t think Zac Brown shares
the same audience as Luke Bryan, Georgia boys though they both be. What Bryan
can do is play his instruments (guitar and piano), sing, — and dance. His
booty-shaking is a crowd-pleaser and he knows it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He genuinely looks like he’s having a blast on stage.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQR1BfIqRKABSjiXIraD0GWJHSp8zB8TZll03pRhMGoy9F2nqD76e1FtaaBWPfUfRBHrOqyMbly0OZ5AnSqyyty9KLiboTjb-9CTk0yWz0tMr0aQibQEeWk0WBVCLYkLYR267OhTg5SR0/s1600/IMG_5051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQR1BfIqRKABSjiXIraD0GWJHSp8zB8TZll03pRhMGoy9F2nqD76e1FtaaBWPfUfRBHrOqyMbly0OZ5AnSqyyty9KLiboTjb-9CTk0yWz0tMr0aQibQEeWk0WBVCLYkLYR267OhTg5SR0/s400/IMG_5051.JPG" width="301" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hardest working ass in country music</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd was mostly very young (high school / college) and
familiar with the urban hooks and rap that comprise the identity of Florida
Georgia Line, which really do cause <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Inky Jukebox</i> to wonder about the state of country music. For good measure,
Clay Cook has rubbished them by name too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnzwekHK3kga_cSkyD3R9uzQOMBn_uLRhDVmOqvqmVE6OWIXP3L3v-bBpBgZSBRywcZIFkpXsRP_GsmDcnx2tTlNO4flRzD4_LXoyFMaiNPH3u7cv15LOucrkVJqWjCTb7fP58Z-KI2Mg/s1600/IMG_4990.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnzwekHK3kga_cSkyD3R9uzQOMBn_uLRhDVmOqvqmVE6OWIXP3L3v-bBpBgZSBRywcZIFkpXsRP_GsmDcnx2tTlNO4flRzD4_LXoyFMaiNPH3u7cv15LOucrkVJqWjCTb7fP58Z-KI2Mg/s320/IMG_4990.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shawna Thompson is better than her band<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Thompson Square try hard, but like themselves more than the
crowd does. Keifer is not that good a singer, but Shawna is. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-16891075203670633002013-09-20T11:39:00.000-04:002013-09-20T11:54:19.422-04:00Keith Urban Lights A Fuse in Pittsburgh<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Urban Goes Rural! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHpiIH3f9YLu5gVGSig419fJn14PP_6CGJSrz4ZK8psfPP6pfj644WCMMkahwbqtWjAwWyVwrwW8nSvem8gBYpix-FlTyAbcrb09JYuknu3dnqQWnHxUmMmAbnkBYWpfT25n01-LqrhaU/s1600/IMG_4847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHpiIH3f9YLu5gVGSig419fJn14PP_6CGJSrz4ZK8psfPP6pfj644WCMMkahwbqtWjAwWyVwrwW8nSvem8gBYpix-FlTyAbcrb09JYuknu3dnqQWnHxUmMmAbnkBYWpfT25n01-LqrhaU/s400/IMG_4847.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keith Urban - five times better than you think!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i>
hung out in the parking lot before the Keith Urban show in Burgettstown, a
roving reporter from the local country radio station ambled by and interviewed
the older carload of fans nearby. He got them to cheer “Keith Urban Rocked!”
into his mic for after the show, and when they declared they were Urban
virgins, he said they were in for a treat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5axBkp-XptlMKD2dYmLhgzDRTBtXLd2rev02Chx7aHczggFBvmaRrgAX-046R23GkVQ2025wCfkVpAEi38vQiaVROeSWw247Cj5Mw7XO88QCcLdYcxzxJ8-A7efCruk_Tk9PnoZr8sIQ/s1600/IMG_4886.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5axBkp-XptlMKD2dYmLhgzDRTBtXLd2rev02Chx7aHczggFBvmaRrgAX-046R23GkVQ2025wCfkVpAEi38vQiaVROeSWw247Cj5Mw7XO88QCcLdYcxzxJ8-A7efCruk_Tk9PnoZr8sIQ/s400/IMG_4886.JPG" width="280" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was right. It’s been three years since Urban was in this
neck of the woods, and the locals were anxious to show him some love.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkdn9wViKKA0z5H-0VTmdcheBS6ixHB__P_Q1rgidDcUB92Y8083hQougfc9Py8i_6E8e3sSnm2OKb4mjiVyMoNnGEKtPPRTCof1SaEuCvNiHTGdDfmLBjO9WaVW9ncz2n2UUcnVKHIMM/s1600/IMG_4897.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkdn9wViKKA0z5H-0VTmdcheBS6ixHB__P_Q1rgidDcUB92Y8083hQougfc9Py8i_6E8e3sSnm2OKb4mjiVyMoNnGEKtPPRTCof1SaEuCvNiHTGdDfmLBjO9WaVW9ncz2n2UUcnVKHIMM/s400/IMG_4897.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i>
has to take a step back for a moment and say that it was a long time before she
could take Keith Urban seriously because he is so darn purdy-looking. But this
show made her throw her hat in the ring, because that reporter was right: he rocked
our asses off. For sheer professionalism, musicianship and fan appreciation,
his show was the best of the year.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why? </div>
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<br /></div>
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For a start, he opened his set by simply strolling out to
center stage with the lights full on and backdrop still up, picked up a banjo
and played an instrumental song. The crowd was caught unaware: usually the
lights go down and background music hits the amps nice and loud. Once that song
was done, the lights went down and when they came back on, the backdrop fell
away to reveal a pretty great set: very simple, with a big bank of vertical
screens. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNpd66Tecz7P6EqZuALFnpMtAo-Mq2KWE2mAL4nqhLvf7bSIrKls21tJk1iBkWbxpP751ynANnJ0QAEul57H6wxxmjEdi-xh8iEYOaRUhHcP4xgb7_oARa-4-kzWX2iSdWHGBMmZQYB4/s1600/IMG_4848.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNpd66Tecz7P6EqZuALFnpMtAo-Mq2KWE2mAL4nqhLvf7bSIrKls21tJk1iBkWbxpP751ynANnJ0QAEul57H6wxxmjEdi-xh8iEYOaRUhHcP4xgb7_oARa-4-kzWX2iSdWHGBMmZQYB4/s400/IMG_4848.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was in great form, delivering all the hits, and had
plenty of interaction with the crowd, who were cold and wet. After spotting a
sign he couldn’t read in the audience, he had the woman holding it come up on
stage; it was a bride-to-be, and she wanted to sing a song with him — so she
did. Pretty neat.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But that wasn’t the only way in which Urban went the extra
mile to get among his fans. A smaller stage was set up over a section of seats
at the far end of the pavilion near the lawn; it served as a fully miked and
lit stage for several songs. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFlWmFWSxeNQUNdc5kL9GwpIDoYgPcl33osD-dyfQzGqvotzr3xs7yUHD5nRySggC0kGfMgSMGEUNcvPhWSv7OfHTrOo435-Tm1l6uox9ZRAwocd8AqvcCNYSfnr9gX-JMBKQ6VOccqS0/s1600/IMG_4916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFlWmFWSxeNQUNdc5kL9GwpIDoYgPcl33osD-dyfQzGqvotzr3xs7yUHD5nRySggC0kGfMgSMGEUNcvPhWSv7OfHTrOo435-Tm1l6uox9ZRAwocd8AqvcCNYSfnr9gX-JMBKQ6VOccqS0/s400/IMG_4916.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An intimate second stage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And if anyone left before the encore, they would have missed
Urban’s second venture out into the crowd – this time slightly to the other
side of the back of the pavilion, where he stood alone at a mic stand right
amongst people to sing “You Look Good In My Shirt.” Afterwards, he signed and
handed his electric guitar to a lucky fan.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhObKX0AfCSGPp2LEO0KP5fqD1CmJo9blFZrtXBhSeoGTqJE2aFGlkHAzJ7v4mPOoPv14O9UgWZqaecGSNl6AeGIcjyrCnKu5AhJAGNaYYbfb_Ury3Qykj7cQyMJqHtJZB5hYVCkfR0-aE/s1600/IMG_4935.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhObKX0AfCSGPp2LEO0KP5fqD1CmJo9blFZrtXBhSeoGTqJE2aFGlkHAzJ7v4mPOoPv14O9UgWZqaecGSNl6AeGIcjyrCnKu5AhJAGNaYYbfb_Ury3Qykj7cQyMJqHtJZB5hYVCkfR0-aE/s400/IMG_4935.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Up close and personal!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Urban is a generous performer, too. He not only shared a
song with each of his opening acts — Dustin Lynch and Little Big Town — but he
gave each of his band members a turn in the spotlight to let them sing a bit of
a cover song and play their instruments. This is what you can expect from a
singer who is also the lead guitarist in his band.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvVDfYTkYhEM8dFFg0BjpjBTJY82ZH-YOCxdVr4HMNj5swntetED6K1IISOaOzEjKwwelGgrX1NMCFCAiCPDCadSP3W-BU4dEQYHjhPYy-wBOn6w2h0ygJ66xcX80-UzeCPtjHKgyzKrs/s1600/IMG_4912.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvVDfYTkYhEM8dFFg0BjpjBTJY82ZH-YOCxdVr4HMNj5swntetED6K1IISOaOzEjKwwelGgrX1NMCFCAiCPDCadSP3W-BU4dEQYHjhPYy-wBOn6w2h0ygJ66xcX80-UzeCPtjHKgyzKrs/s640/IMG_4912.JPG" width="482" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who thinks we're sexy? </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiht4T78mEVLF-PsNAguAuZD3At8LLtmL6gMwsasWjgHlivvbAGSfa4YD8XrLAQMhtRSEMgK_SmPQgIn8Pj8tODRm2_HU5vOb74T75l2uSdggBkxVmbfM-mTeSJ_-YvOrwU4KbD2Qa85DQ/s1600/IMG_4875.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiht4T78mEVLF-PsNAguAuZD3At8LLtmL6gMwsasWjgHlivvbAGSfa4YD8XrLAQMhtRSEMgK_SmPQgIn8Pj8tODRm2_HU5vOb74T75l2uSdggBkxVmbfM-mTeSJ_-YvOrwU4KbD2Qa85DQ/s400/IMG_4875.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Big Town joined in</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Speaking of which — wow. They say Urban is the best guitar
player in country music and they have a point. A Go Pro camera fixed to the
head of his guitar allowed the audience to see just what his hands were doing
on the neck, which was a really nice touch for those of us who are curious to
see.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Urban doesn’t only play guitars though — he did "Tonight I Wanna Cry" all alone on the piano too. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/3qq-bKEWpn8?list=UUqvO6Obir-hs1AMuRYNyLKw" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-29945700987930146222013-09-08T21:35:00.002-04:002013-09-08T21:35:27.898-04:00Biker Chic(k)<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">ZZ Top in Pittsburgh, September 7, 2013</span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU-Qlob3PdsoGBwAFXwAsbwqAD0Or9KBqGzScjJHMDezrBhs17MRVTqP-JVAFtB9MY84-IW2H7z_H8kjupgBIzJqkBsMccd9Y1O8DUOFokNP6cCASkin5lMH_VprzGX8-cVWt0N40twoQ/s1600/IMG_4770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU-Qlob3PdsoGBwAFXwAsbwqAD0Or9KBqGzScjJHMDezrBhs17MRVTqP-JVAFtB9MY84-IW2H7z_H8kjupgBIzJqkBsMccd9Y1O8DUOFokNP6cCASkin5lMH_VprzGX8-cVWt0N40twoQ/s320/IMG_4770.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
If you have ever wondered where you can go to see a bald, mustachioed dude in a leather waistcoat and leather chaps, or a couple consisting of a middle-aged guy in a leather fedora and a petite teenager in thigh-high heels stumbling about clutching a cab of beer bigger than one of her thighs, or, as T<i>he Inky Jukebox</i>'s sweetheart noted, a whole lot of "slatterns," then you should check out a ZZ Top concert.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6_l0RURXV8n9aLuPS_AaqysniChkXC4o9DZvOuFACTotaZmQp0qPNhdHhK-uj_Ch0TaJkobC4oks-w8oug1PCzJCDR-DUoEoiNCF05fyclGvzXdIz4DDPgWSEpeFG_LCr5Ueu6FqCLk/s1600/IMG_4756.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6_l0RURXV8n9aLuPS_AaqysniChkXC4o9DZvOuFACTotaZmQp0qPNhdHhK-uj_Ch0TaJkobC4oks-w8oug1PCzJCDR-DUoEoiNCF05fyclGvzXdIz4DDPgWSEpeFG_LCr5Ueu6FqCLk/s320/IMG_4756.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
ZZ Top play slower than they used to, but just as powerfully, and they are legends.<br />
<br />
"Tush" live. 'Nuff said. <i>The Inky Jukebox</i> danced and sang so hard her tush nearly fell off.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheo6jbqIcIE_8rlk_GJCwUQBHAcV9fd5J01_UA9ngpf7WCd9ZwtckjXbYbdOTD_dy7H40wIGi6uiyVwskbc8lFVl_RtlcWvCgnfSHzUp3tgeoPO4nbFerJIg0OulzqHUi8tuNsZYiRpr4/s1600/IMG_4790.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheo6jbqIcIE_8rlk_GJCwUQBHAcV9fd5J01_UA9ngpf7WCd9ZwtckjXbYbdOTD_dy7H40wIGi6uiyVwskbc8lFVl_RtlcWvCgnfSHzUp3tgeoPO4nbFerJIg0OulzqHUi8tuNsZYiRpr4/s320/IMG_4790.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-66722756084212338072013-09-02T15:27:00.004-04:002013-09-02T15:27:33.854-04:00Justin Moore: Finger-Lickin’ Good<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Heinz Field, Pittsburgh, September 1<sup>st</sup> 2013</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMKQnpVnHkhtl5zYhyPmnz-5tdrAoz3590giPnYOdH-ju11mFJSAZ4XqZwQynIJzgv39fevgkByAv6FG2tNsjqWz8CQ-qGqWc6KK6HthW7UFOMjz6H_aTXy1RrYOSSCU-VwOsqmYOXOEc/s1600/IMG_4657+bw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMKQnpVnHkhtl5zYhyPmnz-5tdrAoz3590giPnYOdH-ju11mFJSAZ4XqZwQynIJzgv39fevgkByAv6FG2tNsjqWz8CQ-qGqWc6KK6HthW7UFOMjz6H_aTXy1RrYOSSCU-VwOsqmYOXOEc/s400/IMG_4657+bw.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Justin Moore</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
“I want you to get your money’s worth,” Justin Moore joked
to the crowd packed around the tiny stage outside Heinz Stadium’s scoreboard on
Sunday night. Given that the concert was free, he added “You get what you pay
for though, so I could have sucked!” The hoards laughed — it was funny because <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> can attest that his
performance as part of the annual Rib Festival did not suck. Far from it: it
was finger-lickin’, lip-smackin’ good.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDflTs1yOMRuqSha7COf1GZVGB_a7ij_NwS03RWoeetEryfmdwNIgoe8Rfd2UAuhapvaUCArI5hSDZnQsjjT4M3ZZWJpp6xWvHDOAwIBqr054_p7Wq8Qio83aF0kgkEsuJLROOPZWXVlw/s1600/IMG_4648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDflTs1yOMRuqSha7COf1GZVGB_a7ij_NwS03RWoeetEryfmdwNIgoe8Rfd2UAuhapvaUCArI5hSDZnQsjjT4M3ZZWJpp6xWvHDOAwIBqr054_p7Wq8Qio83aF0kgkEsuJLROOPZWXVlw/s320/IMG_4648.JPG" width="303" /></a></div>
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Billed by the festival as a one-hour set, Moore in fact
played for two. That’s value for money right there. And if you arrived on the
scene during the set changeover (Drew Baldridge opened), you could snag a spot
right up to the stage. By the time he came on (earlier than scheduled), it was
filled with die-hard fans, only a few of which appeared to be from the actual
country. </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTUkAZD6cOq0NuTUlv7XSzrzkKH0vAdY8GiQ0taIdY8CsujgMyMjFE3Fv82MYWaT2DgZsn5KdHFAj963k7GUQsyZZZqksIFHu8RJCWfW7eWZGO9YdT8SRfgdk9JOfK3rPP05ENsK4M4dw/s1600/IMG_4636+BW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTUkAZD6cOq0NuTUlv7XSzrzkKH0vAdY8GiQ0taIdY8CsujgMyMjFE3Fv82MYWaT2DgZsn5KdHFAj963k7GUQsyZZZqksIFHu8RJCWfW7eWZGO9YdT8SRfgdk9JOfK3rPP05ENsK4M4dw/s400/IMG_4636+BW.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
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If this had been a Burgettstown show, that would have been a very
different demographic. Still, they were all boozed up and happy, crowd surfing
and generally singing and hollering along to every single word. Hey — it was a
free show on the banks of the Ohio on a hot summer night; parking was cheap, Heinz
Field’s Steeler pavilion was open to the public, there was a vast array of
world-class ribs available a few hundred feet away, and they came
double-fisting big cans of beer.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBJOIL4A3Zx9iP4uitSQRriZt3ifUMHBG36mPLcj-3AnakVy7BjnTmwraikNaxVWfRaBWsCOQAajzrPk3EK0y6uEuc_fR411Raj1t-wpgvigt_H-0bj3DBHqkbc-npYPm5pXM4w37Kf2c/s1600/IMG_4649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBJOIL4A3Zx9iP4uitSQRriZt3ifUMHBG36mPLcj-3AnakVy7BjnTmwraikNaxVWfRaBWsCOQAajzrPk3EK0y6uEuc_fR411Raj1t-wpgvigt_H-0bj3DBHqkbc-npYPm5pXM4w37Kf2c/s400/IMG_4649.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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From the stage the band’s view was the interior of a lit-up
Heinz Field to one side and the downtown Pittsburgh skyline reflecting in the
water to the other. Moore and the band delivered a set packed full of his hits,
along with the crowd pleasers (“I Can Kick Your Ass”). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbacBc63DwZSEzp78ls-KTzfngVfrEXnHKTyq5jNj4V5evaox0ddqLDAFcFXRK6P_jU1cSCQnjHUSAr_3O2RE3uRXQbtwVyp8If06wsAMcJzzN6sGxydp1dcRh7BQ1sjDdHrf-9ys9PI/s1600/IMG_4654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbacBc63DwZSEzp78ls-KTzfngVfrEXnHKTyq5jNj4V5evaox0ddqLDAFcFXRK6P_jU1cSCQnjHUSAr_3O2RE3uRXQbtwVyp8If06wsAMcJzzN6sGxydp1dcRh7BQ1sjDdHrf-9ys9PI/s400/IMG_4654.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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He threw in some Randy
Houser and Josh Thompson to advertize his upcoming tour, where they will be
opening for him. He saved “Small Town USA” until the end, a sentimental
favorite, after which the crowd gave a deafening chant — <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Justin…Justin…Justin</i>, which morphed into <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">USA…USA…USA</i>. It was a moving moment; he hung his hat on his mic
stand and crouched on the stage fighting back tears.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxhEuWnrgYrsyIgYCNtv1z7VUtrOgHBd0cRukNfoRBltderK8kNuZ4zmZTKBjX0bMXLibc-SRxA2rfdHkp_gSzHG8PPs-XBSvtUDCK_W47xrCQCPfZyKTsv-I7tsYA07fXoxn0_pO3occ/s1600/IMG_4666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxhEuWnrgYrsyIgYCNtv1z7VUtrOgHBd0cRukNfoRBltderK8kNuZ4zmZTKBjX0bMXLibc-SRxA2rfdHkp_gSzHG8PPs-XBSvtUDCK_W47xrCQCPfZyKTsv-I7tsYA07fXoxn0_pO3occ/s320/IMG_4666.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This intimate connection was furthered by Moore’s ad-libbing
repartee with the crowd throughout his show. To the absolute delight of
everyone, he threw in an acoustic version of “Grandpa,” which hadn’t been on
the set list, but was requested at a meet-and-greet. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/enBzWm_6MGc" width="420"></iframe>
</div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This kind of interaction
with his core base is what builds the kind of serious loyalty that fuels a long
career. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3aV4tAUUfJc8eCewX_iATu_duIGILA1v6DFDX4922ap6f_MzpGselNGeTXEs9lRNnpJiqyf1xZ5QN3AiRlstyPzLrJr5LrMJAYJ0uZnAhskfbAQCJ-CUUpYrSs5vAS4Og2EyKlqJNQQ/s1600/IMG_4685.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3aV4tAUUfJc8eCewX_iATu_duIGILA1v6DFDX4922ap6f_MzpGselNGeTXEs9lRNnpJiqyf1xZ5QN3AiRlstyPzLrJr5LrMJAYJ0uZnAhskfbAQCJ-CUUpYrSs5vAS4Og2EyKlqJNQQ/s400/IMG_4685.JPG" width="277" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnKxcDr_2VvL1_FyJ2naeIKpNF87-K2PvXhcp_K6V7HAHOj0aSwBh_0BK1ZZMWV1HBNNtGWrTTNNgsRQHMblBTU2Rf40kEEFYyKvEsbeTJJZ6MaVMa2HiminetSAptSgy3v2UJdbMm1RI/s1600/IMG_4691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnKxcDr_2VvL1_FyJ2naeIKpNF87-K2PvXhcp_K6V7HAHOj0aSwBh_0BK1ZZMWV1HBNNtGWrTTNNgsRQHMblBTU2Rf40kEEFYyKvEsbeTJJZ6MaVMa2HiminetSAptSgy3v2UJdbMm1RI/s400/IMG_4691.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In a twist from a regular encore (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox </i>had hoped and prayed for “Outlaw Like Me”), Moore
came back out clad in a Steelers cap instead of his signature cowboy hat,
alone, with an acoustic guitar, and proceeded to give a two-song preview of
as-yet unheard songs from his upcoming album. They were great, especially “One
Dirt Road,” which he indicated would be his next single. He peppered this with
an impromptu medley of covers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/zuR4PoAZGW0?list=UUqvO6Obir-hs1AMuRYNyLKw" width="560"></iframe></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In case anyone has looked up which songs appear
on the new album, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i>
can reveal that “I'd Want It To Be Yours” is a humorous song about women’s
bottoms. He literally played his way off the stage, spent.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWB27B9TbKx-9K2t7aPYjj6Isq8nl69M-ukrez4CfhwepUSMKXB7usidamdLN5hqbCpz4-Xno6bCCgO2P6hCdkEmT8LwSFQSfAxJs6EmqxL21a8wEMVxF1t_eRtxDZjCm5gZzjDa3dlMU/s1600/IMG_4688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWB27B9TbKx-9K2t7aPYjj6Isq8nl69M-ukrez4CfhwepUSMKXB7usidamdLN5hqbCpz4-Xno6bCCgO2P6hCdkEmT8LwSFQSfAxJs6EmqxL21a8wEMVxF1t_eRtxDZjCm5gZzjDa3dlMU/s640/IMG_4688.JPG" width="444" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You get what you pay for,” he’d quipped earlier. We did: it
was priceless.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Off The Beaten Path</i>
comes out September 17. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-51714310444230221302013-08-24T16:55:00.002-04:002013-08-24T16:55:38.778-04:00Country Boy, Shake It For Me<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Luke Bryan Wants You To Crash His Party</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Luke Bryan’s kind of night (according to the lead song on
his new album, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Crash My Party</i>)
involves laying you down and loving you right. And in case you don’t get the
message loud and clear, he will gladly demonstrate what lies in store, as
evidenced at his live shows. Here’s a taste, artfully compiled by someone set
to Thun Thun music. This is NSFW. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/vvQbOFR_Vp0" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you’re reading the rest of this review after having had
to have a lie down, you’re not alone. Luke Bryan has made a steadfast leap onto
the booty stage of country hunks in recent years, something that hasn’t hurt —
anyone or anything. It certainly hasn’t hurt his record sales or votes for
Entertainer of the Year. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The other thing that hasn’t hurt is that his records are
really really good. They are well written, well crafted songs that feel
unforced and melodic. His general themes — country life, drinking, girls — work
well for a guy who comes across as someone you’d want to hang out with. This
album is anchored by his first single from it, “Crash My Party,” but it’s
anyone’s guess as to which other songs will be singled out for radio play, as
they are all contenders.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bryan’s voice is like motor oil running through cogs, making
them glisten. It’s not full of power, but lovely in a ballad, and you get a
rare glimpse of him letting go in “Run This Town” when he whoops and hollers
towards the end. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i>
did the math and decided that the Target Deluxe edition, which contains four
bonus tracks, was the best value. Indeed, the extra songs don’t feel like
add-ons, but part of the album as a whole. The day it was released, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> went to go buy it only
to find nothing but empty shelves where it had been. A copy was procured at a
Target with a demographic less likely to be hit up by country music fans, but
it was still the very last one on the shelf. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you don’t mind, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Inky Jukebox</i> is going to watch that video again. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-63127763363118945192013-08-17T22:16:00.000-04:002013-08-19T09:28:53.806-04:00Jason Aldean’s Night Train Thunders Through Pittsburgh<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Aldean and Owen Will Rock Your Face Off: </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">First Niagara Pavilion,
August 16<sup>th</sup>, 2013</span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwra2Xc99M2XfmTWxGJhad2Slq_qzIlHTnfCfYaSuFY319NeJHge6yC-9rp9nDziPrj82z4f_XjRnKG3mgUCf87qDlTS6-1vhvLJZULy3mqol49Vx0f1I1uIlNBFU2gJkZGmQc0o2DWiY/s1600/IMG_4575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwra2Xc99M2XfmTWxGJhad2Slq_qzIlHTnfCfYaSuFY319NeJHge6yC-9rp9nDziPrj82z4f_XjRnKG3mgUCf87qDlTS6-1vhvLJZULy3mqol49Vx0f1I1uIlNBFU2gJkZGmQc0o2DWiY/s400/IMG_4575.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jason Aldean</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
When the night train rolls through Homestead PA, it makes a
long, mournful sound as it snakes around the river, which can be heard from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox’s</i> bedroom. It is a
distinctly American sound, and one which has inspired musicians for generations
with its preponderance for metaphor.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jason Aldean’s Night Train Tour, named after his latest
album and single, also rolled through the Pittsburgh area last night, but it
made quite a different sound. It rocked your face off. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmGuXtP9Z-QEVYV0-UdfeadwnpUqGfmyiIWCLwRrnTvLQpqCM4_2ZGQaqLJgjk3YUOayfFFhW-TDV0Jq07L0w3JhO_U-jYHyKyk8U4JeFUCchwkBoFbK3OLgmIxi8Xwr9Ie0dMnXOB7h8/s1600/IMG_4579.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmGuXtP9Z-QEVYV0-UdfeadwnpUqGfmyiIWCLwRrnTvLQpqCM4_2ZGQaqLJgjk3YUOayfFFhW-TDV0Jq07L0w3JhO_U-jYHyKyk8U4JeFUCchwkBoFbK3OLgmIxi8Xwr9Ie0dMnXOB7h8/s400/IMG_4579.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Actually, it made <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Inky Jukebox’s</i> ears feel like they were going to explode because the
engineers had turned the amps up so loud it was painful to be anywhere near the
front of the lawn at the First Niagara Pavilion. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> has been to a great many concerts, but this was by
far the loudest — perhaps to reach the largest number of people possible, as
the sell-out crowd was packed past capacity, with areas normally off-limits
opened to concertgoers. So <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky
Jukebox</i> did something she’s never, ever done before: moved further back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkGK1qFgfwk8R855AG_fXKYy6DVN1cd8DE5v5GF4BUl-pSiTt5MCx6U7NyO-RLAKvmUawIPmz-7BaOHUIp6Sn6NyPlqHj2x7SsO_iLojgqACoWjzxHnhFDqzK13Qol-8BVyfPKZZzCDKM/s1600/IMG_4592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkGK1qFgfwk8R855AG_fXKYy6DVN1cd8DE5v5GF4BUl-pSiTt5MCx6U7NyO-RLAKvmUawIPmz-7BaOHUIp6Sn6NyPlqHj2x7SsO_iLojgqACoWjzxHnhFDqzK13Qol-8BVyfPKZZzCDKM/s400/IMG_4592.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from mid-hill</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That being said, Jason Aldean’s show was the best live music
experience so far this year, which is saying something, given the stellar
line-up. It wasn’t the most flashy; it didn’t involve the most stage banter; it
wasn’t the biggest spectacle — but he delivered pitch-perfect hit after hit
non-stop all night, in an unabashed rockfest designed to rattle your teeth and
leave you chanting “USA! USA!” along with the punch-drunk crowd. (You know a
show has been a winner when 23,000 people break into spontaneous patriotic
chanting.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i>
was actually just pleased to get into the venue, something that wasn’t possible
last year, when she <a href="http://theinkyjukebox.blogspot.com/2012/08/poxy-pittsburgh.html" target="_blank">missed the show due to a traffic jam</a> approaching the
amphitheater exit which must also have prevented thousands from seeing Aldean
and his tour mate, Luke Bryan. The year before that, there were so many cars
that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> was forced into
overflow parking in somebody’s field a mile from the venue and missed the
opening act (Chris Young). One can safely say that Aldean has been very popular
in these parts for a long time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYJ3S3foROs_2VTOZcNcps4zIqIp-liCzMyB-NmhIWkhGvXf-J0J8jT3OebQ01xnBKxjwOuD-X2IJbgGrJxPziong9vtatNUY876Dv9IaZl5uKbxEbekwirKX7uSj2dy7yaUI9r4oZceg/s1600/IMG_4597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYJ3S3foROs_2VTOZcNcps4zIqIp-liCzMyB-NmhIWkhGvXf-J0J8jT3OebQ01xnBKxjwOuD-X2IJbgGrJxPziong9vtatNUY876Dv9IaZl5uKbxEbekwirKX7uSj2dy7yaUI9r4oZceg/s320/IMG_4597.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course, Aldean has many more hit songs from which to draw
this time around, and the crowd around <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Inky Jukebox</i> wanted in particular to hear “Night Train,” which was duly
delivered at the end of the evening. Further up on the hill, every word was
sung with gusto by happily drunken fans, clinging on to one another in sloppy
groups or couples, dancing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/DQzHs-XNa3s" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
One of the highlights of the show was when Kelly Clarkson
appeared as if in the flesh (and a red dress) via hologram to sing the duet “Don’t You Wanna
Stay.” When a guest star comes out to sing a duet, you want it to knock your
socks off, to be even better than the record, and this was. There is nothing
remotely like hearing Clarkson’s real-life vocal power, hitting notes mere
mortals could never reach. That she wasn't actually physically present was something you couldn't detect from the hill, which was astonishing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Aldean’s stage presence has matured too. Whereas two years
ago he shuffled nervously on stage from one side to another with nary a word to
recognize the crowd, this time around he prowled confidently, delivering an
extended ad-lib introduction to “1994,” and pausing to raise a toast to the
Pittsburgh Pirates, who as of this writing are at #1. Calling out a town’s
sports teams is a good way to connect with them, and this was location-specific
in a way that didn’t feel <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hello
Cleveland! </i>(In a related note, When Aldean mentioned Justin Bieber as part
of an anecdote, you never heard such a thunderous boo. “Y’all hatin’ on the
Beebs!” he remarked.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyLGgy64gdIaC0s-nBLqwoeqG6fkPs4clapCX9mebmgRsOm82qEhMammUKAgeoTABx_egu4F6lZ854Fd6LxkMScEdvk7Ytzm6o-UIqr2esI4dvlNfjFrn37fjUcB_xnetkREeEUaL3pM/s1600/IMG_4557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyLGgy64gdIaC0s-nBLqwoeqG6fkPs4clapCX9mebmgRsOm82qEhMammUKAgeoTABx_egu4F6lZ854Fd6LxkMScEdvk7Ytzm6o-UIqr2esI4dvlNfjFrn37fjUcB_xnetkREeEUaL3pM/s400/IMG_4557.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jake Owen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pairing Aldean with perennial opening act Jake Owen was a
great match, as both have the same audience and general delivery. Owen too has
matured as a performer in recent years, getting accustomed to playing larger
gigs with an ever-increasing set-list of his own hits. He always provides an
energetic set, bouncing around the stage barefoot, with a solid band. He kicked
it off with “I’ll Go Anywhere,” the up-tempo leading track form his last album,
and ended, surprisingly, with a brand new song — something <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> has never seen an artist do before. It’s always
something of a risk to play unheard songs, and Owen dropped this one on the
crowd at the peak of his set. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky
Jukebox</i> and the rest of the packed crowd were not let down: “Days of Gold”
proved to be a pumped-up anthem that is sure to be a huge hit.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju90vNHP8-rSFFPjAuMz7zpEiMrDyEyfHT5rLjQpufZ7pkwmM39Rq4cacQZYCfSICLrkeTCr9uhw7aFrHEsuaCUwNH2Asm-S1C05eNcWph_rWuHHpwgXSqvUaJ-x1qZ0HK1j26nrbguUA/s1600/IMG_4567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju90vNHP8-rSFFPjAuMz7zpEiMrDyEyfHT5rLjQpufZ7pkwmM39Rq4cacQZYCfSICLrkeTCr9uhw7aFrHEsuaCUwNH2Asm-S1C05eNcWph_rWuHHpwgXSqvUaJ-x1qZ0HK1j26nrbguUA/s400/IMG_4567.JPG" width="306" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jake Owen levitates!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
During set change-overs, the crowd was entertained by DJ
Silver, who spun popular tracks, which is a nice touch at a show. However, the
way he fiddled with the tempo of the songs and broke in with his own comments
during key lyrics left the crowd unable to sing along the way they wanted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And finally, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky
Jukebox</i> has been itching all season long to write a post about badly
dressed concert-goers, but has shied away. This guy, however, is a hero and his
cause needs to be aired. Sir: the ladies hear you loud and clear. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNgippLvdAGkF8MjXlqGH6bDhM78kfLQLGREE8-15W1zA6QP6hmdnQsO87nVahiP9UQEY4mx4lVVl_1pDMWex6raSJm8B8EbZCgcMUZ6tGoY6ZcLQlOjzBkWyY8MnS_-GEuAQ_moMT7Tk/s1600/IMG_4549.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNgippLvdAGkF8MjXlqGH6bDhM78kfLQLGREE8-15W1zA6QP6hmdnQsO87nVahiP9UQEY4mx4lVVl_1pDMWex6raSJm8B8EbZCgcMUZ6tGoY6ZcLQlOjzBkWyY8MnS_-GEuAQ_moMT7Tk/s400/IMG_4549.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awesome Aviators!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-46147149554177672522013-08-13T17:22:00.001-04:002013-08-13T17:22:36.961-04:00The Worst of the Best
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rolling Stone</i>
Produces Another Completely Irrelevant List</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw6r6ZurjvekBxses3KrGHIDvHxxmPZ2mmHY0jIYCCkUrnyMuK6auGHIHG51IxnQfkMnc6ibJ2sEWjjOvnDbJZ_KEpMl_mzU0X8QPDkzW6yq44jMZl3uCKM6qofL6CJdbr1cDfYczOoDw/s1600/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw6r6ZurjvekBxses3KrGHIDvHxxmPZ2mmHY0jIYCCkUrnyMuK6auGHIHG51IxnQfkMnc6ibJ2sEWjjOvnDbJZ_KEpMl_mzU0X8QPDkzW6yq44jMZl3uCKM6qofL6CJdbr1cDfYczOoDw/s400/cover.jpg" width="294" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s been a while since <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Inky Jukebox</i> had a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rolling Stone</i>
rant, so it made perfect sense for the latest issue to really yank our chain.
It’s a theme issue, purportedly to showcase “The Best Live Acts Now (The Greats
And What Makes Them Great).” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s no point, really, in getting upset about their list
of “The 50 Greatest Live Acts Right Now” because it’s so predictably and
outrageously silly. Sure — there are some undeniably good live acts on the list
(#1 is Springsteen, duh, and Jann Wenner would have bust an artery is the
Stones had been placed any lower than #3), and we understand that this list is
going to be a mix of mega-money makers and smaller acts, but when whole genres
of music are shut out the list is meaningless. Who is Tame Impala? Who is Janelle
Mon<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">á</span>e?
Who is The National? Who are the Sleigh Bells? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Where is Kenny Chesney? Where are Jason Aldean, Brad
Paisley, Carrie Underwood, Luke Bryan? Where is Eric Church, for Gawdsake?
(He’s #40!) Taylor Swift comes in at #49, just ahead of that “Stadium Slayer”
Fiona Apple. I’m calling her that because a few pages later, that’s what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rolling Stone</i> calls Swift. Seriously?
Fiona Apple? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What on earth could be the reason behind this grotesque
absence of country acts? (And don’t tell me that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rolling Stone</i> is all about rock music which is why they can ignore
country — have you seen how much hip-hip it covers?) The answer can be found
when you see the line-up of “experts” they polled. Out of 24 people, the
breakdown is as follows: Music Industry Execs = 8; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rolling Stone</i> and other journalists = 4; musicians = 12. But let’s
take a closer look at the alleged musicians, shall we? There’s extremely
relevant Perry Farrell, Pete Wentz, Trey Ansatasio, someone from Fall Out Boy,
someone from a long-named band I don’t have the patience to type out, BOTH
Tegan and Sara, and always fair-minded Lars Ulrich. It’s a hipster convention.
Shockingly, the lead singer of Alabama Shakes was a voter and her band made it
to #16. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On page 48, there is a mini-article called “Because Country
Is Where Arena Rock Lives” and it has the underhanded slap of an insult. Every
single positive thing mentioned is credited to an old rock act, as if country
acts have nothing of their own to offer but mimicry. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rolling Stone</i> assures readers that these acts play plenty of rock
covers (by the Rolling Stones!), employ stage designers from rock acts, and imply
that even Eric Church, whom they evidently admire, borrows heavily from
Metallica (thanks Lars!). As long as mainstream media fail to account for the
inherent strength of country acts and treat them like pale imitations of the
dinosaurs of old, they will never get a fair break. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-69687684972817855822013-08-05T17:28:00.002-04:002013-08-05T17:28:57.737-04:00No BS: Blake Shelton at Pittsburgh, Aug 2, 2013<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Red-Red-Red-Red-Redneck</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzQiKV_R9y_KsxDITmEtcM09maHlBJOxab1ra2gi1z1v2qjmF9D5U3bTzh1PK5-T8L61396G8OAveKBsmIH10rFJI5wCQtTOoFV23r3pgwf9VZMJ9eucaR0qtYAYg2rgQWPbYILYgTg_g/s1600/IMG_4440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzQiKV_R9y_KsxDITmEtcM09maHlBJOxab1ra2gi1z1v2qjmF9D5U3bTzh1PK5-T8L61396G8OAveKBsmIH10rFJI5wCQtTOoFV23r3pgwf9VZMJ9eucaR0qtYAYg2rgQWPbYILYgTg_g/s320/IMG_4440.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake Shelton has a pensive moment<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i style="font-size: medium;">The Inky Jukebox</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">
does not know whether Blake Shelton, experienced entertainer that he is, should
be taken at his word when he appeared taken aback at how populous and exuberant
the Pittsburgh crowd was on August 2. It had been years since he’d played in the
area, and his star has risen in recent years by dint of his role as a coach on </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Voice</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. From what </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> heard, a number of
concert-goers were there to see what he was all about for the first time. We’d
like to believe he really meant it, that he wasn’t just delivering schlock when
he expressed his appreciation. Why? Because Blake Shelton appeared to give his
all and delivered a rollicking good show.</span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEeCuNo7M-IHHRNpu771AcEQUkq7sA63-CYMe8IYzpWyJP9WJl52721i10Gdu1iR4P6QZj7EPd7Utay4Hsdqr9zs5sDGOIS96T1FAYu__KZMIAhHVoY29JAmmYU80Lv0iDMyhSD3wKkCE/s1600/IMG_4425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEeCuNo7M-IHHRNpu771AcEQUkq7sA63-CYMe8IYzpWyJP9WJl52721i10Gdu1iR4P6QZj7EPd7Utay4Hsdqr9zs5sDGOIS96T1FAYu__KZMIAhHVoY29JAmmYU80Lv0iDMyhSD3wKkCE/s400/IMG_4425.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He may have said he was nervous, but he sure didn't seem it. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What makes a good show, you ask? Well, playing hit after hit
after hit helps. Playing them well doesn’t hurt. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-WAQypabrYXufLQ0XKRklLLbiAkNpPzoSU4j_timH2XxqBwPdixqAfrzaI0yy0hKKDtW-LrYAnl2M_b4m41_H_9jTV094P2j78-q2x1_R9hq8tjn6ZtjZnHoDuf5_8D2HxTovRhG3HEM/s1600/IMG_4448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-WAQypabrYXufLQ0XKRklLLbiAkNpPzoSU4j_timH2XxqBwPdixqAfrzaI0yy0hKKDtW-LrYAnl2M_b4m41_H_9jTV094P2j78-q2x1_R9hq8tjn6ZtjZnHoDuf5_8D2HxTovRhG3HEM/s400/IMG_4448.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An acoustic set out in the audience</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The banter with the crowd in
between songs was not only detail-oriented (referring to actual people in the
actual crowd), but funny as hell. It doesn’t matter if the old
hidden-mullet-in-the-hat trick was a tad predictable; the way he pulled it off
made us all laugh out loud. We did not LOL; we laughed our asses off. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNm8muw-C5U8iMJMc2PI2eQRnxaoUStRKD-3big8QK4MpykXWrcW4leylTK_Ia_bZxAtjj3kVas8UCSBm8OaEV_LnknaeeLlFXBrOrA4zoqyCMhWMFFWluUJUrYL7I9iufsOMJnvRRTk/s1600/IMG_4429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNm8muw-C5U8iMJMc2PI2eQRnxaoUStRKD-3big8QK4MpykXWrcW4leylTK_Ia_bZxAtjj3kVas8UCSBm8OaEV_LnknaeeLlFXBrOrA4zoqyCMhWMFFWluUJUrYL7I9iufsOMJnvRRTk/s400/IMG_4429.JPG" width="372" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some beach, somewhere. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr.
Shelton can also really play and really sing, and he makes being on stage look
effortless.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here’s Shelton singing his hit “Home” after getting the crowd
to twinkle their cell phones. It was purdy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/bCgQPkn7igI" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Footage courtesy of <i>The Inky Jukebox</i></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd at the First Niagara Pavilion was thick and in the
mood to party, and sang along to every word. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hill already packed for the opening acts</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They were even out in force for the
opening act, country music nice boy Easton Corbin, who gave a solid set of the
old-school country style, liberally sprinkled with fiddle leads and lap steel.
He delighted all by pulling out two bang-on covers: Brooks and Dunn’s “Boot
Scootin’ Boogie,” and Alabama’s “If You’re Gonna Play In Texas.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYRnuWJijo33rZQwcTPttyJhaaHRiuKnRnHmVeRYCLtrOSPUqzRfvixW-Xl7lRJbQRklhk_dRLwimWYRcQyojCkCYsitmBM2EJeCJEOCFnYx8ESbCpvMTTWSrl5lFcZQ6F5-YRMG1oR0/s1600/IMG_4406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYRnuWJijo33rZQwcTPttyJhaaHRiuKnRnHmVeRYCLtrOSPUqzRfvixW-Xl7lRJbQRklhk_dRLwimWYRcQyojCkCYsitmBM2EJeCJEOCFnYx8ESbCpvMTTWSrl5lFcZQ6F5-YRMG1oR0/s320/IMG_4406.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easton Corbin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Corbin was preceded by actress-turned-country cutie-pie Jana
Kramer, who flitted about the stage in an outfit designed to please (the boys):
tank top, leather hot pants and Louboutin heels. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well <i>hello</i>, Jana Kramer. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With her long dark hair and
legs for miles, Kramer is one of those ladies who is clearly always the hottest
girl in the room (or amphitheater). It’s no wonder Brantley Gilbert said “I’ll
have her, thanks.” She can sing just like she does on her records, needing no
celebrity partner to carry her weight. The line to meet her after the show was
LONG.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT6WAiOwenUkDqIb6BVoxvHsjRjiyV5cL9-JEcvbkPH6pu29S7s3WABH32AbaNQ1lBGNz9PVna7DH31s3v_ZMCXQVQdjKGPgsAhh_A1CHySAdUzELbo-IPIs9AEeNSfzh9e13eKwjqXUc/s1600/IMG_4451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT6WAiOwenUkDqIb6BVoxvHsjRjiyV5cL9-JEcvbkPH6pu29S7s3WABH32AbaNQ1lBGNz9PVna7DH31s3v_ZMCXQVQdjKGPgsAhh_A1CHySAdUzELbo-IPIs9AEeNSfzh9e13eKwjqXUc/s400/IMG_4451.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The more he drinks, the more he drinks, the more he drinks. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Go see Blake Shelton. The man is a born entertainer and gives you your money's worth and then some. He's no BS; he's the real deal. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-36132496689561345732013-07-10T16:53:00.001-04:002013-07-10T16:53:14.770-04:00Lee Brice: Hard Not To Love<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Old-School Sexy</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLF5Mzwj1-VSsdHrjC_R2awP8tkA1yAfg6Fma2_EqkQmkgf8EJpVxGaqpyV1kFgbPSv8fyCkVENwiqS0s6szY7q7fD0MRWYxVNhroGX_AGFpIsVmLeja6vBcHvW-hcPIQg41_nW97WUCU/s1600/Lee_Brice_CountryMusicRocks.net_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLF5Mzwj1-VSsdHrjC_R2awP8tkA1yAfg6Fma2_EqkQmkgf8EJpVxGaqpyV1kFgbPSv8fyCkVENwiqS0s6szY7q7fD0MRWYxVNhroGX_AGFpIsVmLeja6vBcHvW-hcPIQg41_nW97WUCU/s320/Lee_Brice_CountryMusicRocks.net_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The other day, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky
Jukebox</i> was asked who the sexiest man in country music is. As you can
imagine, such a serious question required a great deal of thought. Justin
Moore? Absolutely. But how about someone … taller? More beardy? Somewhat
burlier? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox’s</i> mental
rolodex was flipping pretty hard before the obvious answer came on the radio.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lee Brice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Huh? Oh yes, my friends. He’s your standard slab of 6’ 3” beefcake
who wears jeans, an open shirt and Aviators. He’s also that guy whose second
album, <i>Hard 2 Love</i>, has been on a regular rotation in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox’s</i> car. It’s a record with no bad track. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/3OIG6YIDSs4" width="560"></iframe>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In fact,
several of them are solid keepers, including the excellent “I Drive Your Truck,”
“Hard To Love,” and “See About A Girl.”<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/6PZ-8ln5xME" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Brice knows how to write a song though,
and has a proven track record of hits for others. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVJS0eY03RNPqB4dD56krEC7g5Njz6AxthL9Iou1EM5iCQvyVmgiLwnX5hYT19M1WHdDBNE4axxxnx2hnD9_f7O0FEOcTlubn72XzEP61B0nADxBxT-5ohr9In7yt-Su2k_hXoD2qNL3E/s1600/Brice+Lee+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVJS0eY03RNPqB4dD56krEC7g5Njz6AxthL9Iou1EM5iCQvyVmgiLwnX5hYT19M1WHdDBNE4axxxnx2hnD9_f7O0FEOcTlubn72XzEP61B0nADxBxT-5ohr9In7yt-Su2k_hXoD2qNL3E/s400/Brice+Lee+1.JPG" width="328" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Brice getting sweaty in Pittsburgh recently</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He puts on a good live show, full of energy with a party
atmosphere.<i> The Inky Jukebox</i> enjoyed seeing him opening for Brad Paisley
recently.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9wQ8eF_aNXS7BpxI4BTu6rI2GI8f3IJNgX8UFgJ1xuMm0FlRDrwu5f4i0UaxpE1wdIALXAuOK4zEXFftpwlfoCECsip1H2DKn6jh98glOZ4u0nQsHFnmSEb_pv5KMYbtI0xHbZ1Fy_OE/s1600/Hard2LoveBrice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9wQ8eF_aNXS7BpxI4BTu6rI2GI8f3IJNgX8UFgJ1xuMm0FlRDrwu5f4i0UaxpE1wdIALXAuOK4zEXFftpwlfoCECsip1H2DKn6jh98glOZ4u0nQsHFnmSEb_pv5KMYbtI0xHbZ1Fy_OE/s1600/Hard2LoveBrice.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But we have a bone to pick with Mr. Brice, truth be told.
Dude: you’re a serious songwriter whose career has taken off. Why, in God’s
name, are you using the numeral “2” in the title of your album? The word is “to.”
Using numerals instead of words is not only twenty years out of cool, but makes
you look like you’re writing for tween girls. Tween girls are not your fanbase:
30 and 40-something grown-ass women are. Tween girls find nothing sexy about
beardy, burly guys like yourself.<br />
<br />
And that’s how it should be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-89381658233058294152013-07-10T13:29:00.000-04:002013-07-10T13:29:15.241-04:00Angels At Red Rocks<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Shake It, Sugaree</span><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/HIsf_OseKic" width="560"></iframe>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i>
would like to file this one under “talents she’d most like to have.” Which
talents, you say? ALL OF THEM.<br />
<br />
Behold: Susan Tadeschi and Grace Potter, a match made in heaven. </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-66785094125896928442013-07-05T12:24:00.000-04:002013-08-29T20:53:14.423-04:00Bros Before Hos, Y'all<div style="text-align: center;">
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you took Tyler Farr’s songs as representations of his
real life, then boy, Dude sucks at keeping a woman. Fortunately, he has a gang
of burly, beardy bros to help him get over those wounds. In his video for
“Redneck Crazy,” he demonstrates, through a careful visual narrative, what a
girl can expect to have happen to her if she tragically decides to swap a
country boy for a hipster loser. As Farr puts it, “he can’t amount to much / by
the look of that little truck.” I wonder what he means by that? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
First of all, this girl doesn’t know a good thing when she
sees it because Tyler Farr is a man who rhymes “Hank” with “drink.” He also has
a really cool clubhouse for the boys complete with a table, a lamp, and the
taxidermied heads of a number of antlered animals he’s presumably killed. The
best part about his hangout is that his buddies are all there — and his buddies
consist of Willie from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Duck
Dynasty</i>, sexy Lee Brice, and Colt Ford. Note that Farr's crew all have exemplary facial hair, while the hipster is clean-shaven. They’re all wearing camo and plot
to sneak up on the cheating hussy to exact Tyler Farr’s revenge on her. The hipster
“won’t be getting any / sleep tonight.” Emphasis on “any.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They confusingly do this by gearing up in their camo waders
and tramp through a swamp. Then they switch to much more sensible ATVs and golf
carts. Sure ‘nuff, she’s getting all tucked in to her cozy camo-bed with the
hipster loser when they pull up, rig up some wires, send Colt Ford out to ring
her buzzer, then turn on all their headlights. This mildly annoys her. The men
also TP her house in epic fashion. Because nothing says “you bitch” quite like
toilet paper. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The thing that is most inexplicable about this entire
scenario isn’t that these rednecks respond in a predictable fashion when one of
them gets cheated on. It’s that the lady in question wasn’t with Lee Brice in
the first place. Girlfriend, WTF? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-1601765383969211432013-07-04T12:09:00.002-04:002013-07-04T20:03:31.902-04:00Redneck Paradise, 4th JulyIn order to celebrate our country's birthday, let's consider the things which make it a redneck paradise.<br />
<br />
First up, there's Kid Rock and Hank Jr. to tell us how it do.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/__HPfmvaWRw" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Not enough water sports? Let Craig Morgan explain where y'all should go to cool off. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/uI7Ghu1FpnQ" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
What to do when the sun goes down? Why, crack open some ice cold beers with Blake Shelton and the Pistol Annies.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/JXAgv665J14" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
<br />
Hungry? Two words: fried chicken. Let Zac Brown cook some up.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/e4ujS1er1r0" width="420"></iframe>
</div>
<br />
Happy Independence Day y'all!<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-76839282319039085162013-06-23T13:51:00.001-04:002013-06-23T16:14:53.626-04:00Chesney / Church: How Forever Feels<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Saved two months</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Bought a little diamond</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Tonight’s the
night</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Feels like perfect timing</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“She said yes! She said yes!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR3cMGtWXuac7VHkuvtTMCr9Q1CjV3F-GY8pfK6qwLN-RpxCAWLR76l6iZ2IzVlc2O1q59CvTMzs_8CFJ3j79y1uK9DGo7STLW_Tq12B1Nrxv9Imir1Vj2ahWY1I_pjDBYKbJGcReYkg0/s1600/IMG_4272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR3cMGtWXuac7VHkuvtTMCr9Q1CjV3F-GY8pfK6qwLN-RpxCAWLR76l6iZ2IzVlc2O1q59CvTMzs_8CFJ3j79y1uK9DGo7STLW_Tq12B1Nrxv9Imir1Vj2ahWY1I_pjDBYKbJGcReYkg0/s400/IMG_4272.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys of summer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
After seven consecutive years playing Heinz Field, Kenny
Chesney is right when he says that attending his shows has become a summer
tradition. The 58,000 fans who sang along to every last word all appeared to
have made that tradition theirs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqmDOB_qNJz9-hh2HcXVyPffVjp2EODeks2v5vZQLS3AFuhXWJGaM89OoH-HTnI6IzXym5DaNzkIBxRPJQJqPOnJsXovZ1UieN1eFijAKap1CluaH5qgr784WSTC_dXcK-RPvLoASy04/s1600/IMG_4248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqmDOB_qNJz9-hh2HcXVyPffVjp2EODeks2v5vZQLS3AFuhXWJGaM89OoH-HTnI6IzXym5DaNzkIBxRPJQJqPOnJsXovZ1UieN1eFijAKap1CluaH5qgr784WSTC_dXcK-RPvLoASy04/s320/IMG_4248.JPG" width="249" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s just as well that they sang along, because it didn’t
seem as though Chesney’s mic was working all that well — it picked up the upper
register of the choruses well enough, but the verses suffered intermittent loss
all night. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> has
attended three Chesney shows, and this time, the sound balance favored the
guitars so much that every performer’s vocal suffered.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHWa0we3Wxi9W3wF4ef9EAceV-KEPGecWAU6ZIr3n_ShYzXKbREprZ43qc6J282Op7Xw1evzd16fYsHn8cmnB7AUDFCg6sxwqjjY3wc9OHNZJcP25VSy5yOA28hTAEiqVK-z5DzDfQPIs/s1600/IMG_4260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHWa0we3Wxi9W3wF4ef9EAceV-KEPGecWAU6ZIr3n_ShYzXKbREprZ43qc6J282Op7Xw1evzd16fYsHn8cmnB7AUDFCg6sxwqjjY3wc9OHNZJcP25VSy5yOA28hTAEiqVK-z5DzDfQPIs/s320/IMG_4260.JPG" width="209" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This technical difficulty didn’t stop the love, however. The
last time <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> saw the
Eli Young Band play, we had our hands on the stage. They have since had enough
hits to bring the pre-show audience alive. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBXju9DILhyphenhyphenrkgwN5-wKhUKCC0w_CLcJYErvxfjqKN5J4p5OZg8C_UeWo-vlCDr7fJrOR9bHpubjzf0yZnfB-wmdZiABwIKggwMaPVjA2vcp7qWhpoaUD9YbvOADiXiNRds5KcCQ3QBEc/s1600/IMG_4196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBXju9DILhyphenhyphenrkgwN5-wKhUKCC0w_CLcJYErvxfjqKN5J4p5OZg8C_UeWo-vlCDr7fJrOR9bHpubjzf0yZnfB-wmdZiABwIKggwMaPVjA2vcp7qWhpoaUD9YbvOADiXiNRds5KcCQ3QBEc/s400/IMG_4196.JPG" width="303" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Eric Church tore it up, delivering a
blistering set that translated admirably to such a vast venue. He seemed
genuinely taken aback by the roar of voices singing along.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFAkHPM9QkaMDY82FDPP0gDc43rM718RvfQI8XrRsYLOQISG8-SyuucsGJl9RcWgCqrC9qNqEu1YCtMgdhEvWvciykFE22DOGJGR8AwFDGazgCwPmlnkevSxhTDONt8KvO39mGvaPs8jg/s1600/IMG_4197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFAkHPM9QkaMDY82FDPP0gDc43rM718RvfQI8XrRsYLOQISG8-SyuucsGJl9RcWgCqrC9qNqEu1YCtMgdhEvWvciykFE22DOGJGR8AwFDGazgCwPmlnkevSxhTDONt8KvO39mGvaPs8jg/s400/IMG_4197.JPG" width="311" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Chesney did what he does best: drop a solid two-hour set
crammed to the gills with hit after sing-a-long hit. Behind him, a supermoon
rose from the Pittsburgh skyline in an arc to center stage, providing an
enormous celestial spotlight.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmPX-Lr8XbY3_hO0GAIayXicD4bMn_8Bv7g5VMiwK23QuiytqPdeKXCe7O80mYAsBslKEZ-cy63mUt8WJ78sPMKHWiFWJpDeMCnmJdKShjCwKbsDexFocLes5RczJ-5suFowZr0l4NdxI/s1600/IMG_4274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmPX-Lr8XbY3_hO0GAIayXicD4bMn_8Bv7g5VMiwK23QuiytqPdeKXCe7O80mYAsBslKEZ-cy63mUt8WJ78sPMKHWiFWJpDeMCnmJdKShjCwKbsDexFocLes5RczJ-5suFowZr0l4NdxI/s320/IMG_4274.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXFSbwn4F5BChb8w01uu-hl-gri4XKe3DP3seEznsQWabUdu6d2EcbZOLxnC_QyAeA7GhLDx8UL9eWpCYGnJTDG_U4jr81L76mOlvZBt0UwXP0kqj-n9KPJIA15SwLc3vAMjHgzywsUxs/s1600/IMG_4209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXFSbwn4F5BChb8w01uu-hl-gri4XKe3DP3seEznsQWabUdu6d2EcbZOLxnC_QyAeA7GhLDx8UL9eWpCYGnJTDG_U4jr81L76mOlvZBt0UwXP0kqj-n9KPJIA15SwLc3vAMjHgzywsUxs/s400/IMG_4209.JPG" width="310" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These boots / Have counted off many a band...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Halfway through his set, a young man seated two rows down
from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> proposed to his
pink-hatted girlfriend, and she said yes. Much high-fiving with everyone around
him ensued, he wearing a giant smile and declaring how happy he is. The good
spirits defined the crowd, many of whom had been partying for days in advance
of the show, in boats parked 13-deep outside the stadium at the head of the
Ohio. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw1bt7QNm6pYT9UBQGtAidgj0gzY_o366qbbW93jjkRl20-zzw-nfgtwIlLmkSsAdcxuTbiwwEt8fsAaHnVLpnQMMU1DI6MTjVXKt2GuDskli4-5f2dkL3-coLrR002kehsPfCfL7rsWs/s1600/IMG_4190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw1bt7QNm6pYT9UBQGtAidgj0gzY_o366qbbW93jjkRl20-zzw-nfgtwIlLmkSsAdcxuTbiwwEt8fsAaHnVLpnQMMU1DI6MTjVXKt2GuDskli4-5f2dkL3-coLrR002kehsPfCfL7rsWs/s400/IMG_4190.JPG" width="308" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sitting outside in the heat at midnight, having stopped for
a soft-serve on the way home, an old man saw <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox’s</i> hat and asked if we’d been to the Kenny Chesney
show. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Inky Jukebox</i> said yes. “Lucky
dogs,” he replied.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was right. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBEP0X9jM3ON534aQfKVVPOeyeKk5WHpEg0yuHKMkITdokZvR10o80ec9k5xqOqYZQkUCwIdRDTlaWUS-xuZEssrPnoTNWOOKTGagPMALOe4FXMIpfFAC-HzijqKQnWP-och0RNZqqRqk/s1600/IMG_4183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBEP0X9jM3ON534aQfKVVPOeyeKk5WHpEg0yuHKMkITdokZvR10o80ec9k5xqOqYZQkUCwIdRDTlaWUS-xuZEssrPnoTNWOOKTGagPMALOe4FXMIpfFAC-HzijqKQnWP-och0RNZqqRqk/s400/IMG_4183.JPG" width="332" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3490827245906160175.post-89872565161756037022013-06-03T14:42:00.001-04:002013-06-03T14:43:25.119-04:00Brad Paisley: Total Pro<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="font-family: Cambria; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">His <s>Southern</s> WV / PA Comfort Zone</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria;">
<!--EndFragment--></span><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /></span></i></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU760JbFLTDpgK61xWzxGZT72-hg2urKKYTFRvR1wLLt1yhWxzouE95u11GoYT4ncav8Xg9W22ElP8nbrmtpphrdCI0pJZKeEU9xXVrAXd8hhKgtN5BNPu17D6-AjTdCHNNzRhT7ay4Tk/s1600/Close1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU760JbFLTDpgK61xWzxGZT72-hg2urKKYTFRvR1wLLt1yhWxzouE95u11GoYT4ncav8Xg9W22ElP8nbrmtpphrdCI0pJZKeEU9xXVrAXd8hhKgtN5BNPu17D6-AjTdCHNNzRhT7ay4Tk/s400/Close1.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brad Paisley gets up close and personal</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The
Inky Jukebox</span></i><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> has been to many, many live shows over the
years. Memories of them tend to be a vague blur. But I can recall in sharp
detail the very first one I ever attended: it was Kris Kristofferson at the
Royal Albert Hall, and I was ten years old. Perhaps it was so memorable because
it was a grown-up outing, or because the venue was so impressive. But mostly, I
think it was because of the physical sensation of feeling the music resonate in
my whole body, rather than just hearing it with my head. And the volume: live
music is LOUD. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Thus it was that I wanted my own children to
experience that world-changing sensation at a similar age. This weekend, I took
my son to see Brad Paisley for his ninth birthday. He’s a music </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">fan, and he’s
learning to play guitar – a ¾ size Fender. And he loves Brad Paisley.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAKoVz9XTOgSzH9nbfA43DmO626bZFrqWOoTKoWFBLi-Wlzp5-z_2OVm98fp4o3WHPxj0OEaCbBoD9vyC0ZotnRtK_poomtPNF_awX7fsEIQ8OkRVaFK2QR5GpP5MSmEfewAtqa5hS8kU/s1600/IMG_4055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAKoVz9XTOgSzH9nbfA43DmO626bZFrqWOoTKoWFBLi-Wlzp5-z_2OVm98fp4o3WHPxj0OEaCbBoD9vyC0ZotnRtK_poomtPNF_awX7fsEIQ8OkRVaFK2QR5GpP5MSmEfewAtqa5hS8kU/s320/IMG_4055.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">If you’re going to bring a child to a show,
then Paisley is a good bet: he puts on an entertainment extravaganza, and it’s
all family-friendly. His use of the video screen as an interactive tool is
better than anyone in the business, and makes other acts’ generic imagery seem
like it belongs to a bygone age. My son’s mind was blown again and again by the
visual humor and trickery that accompanied and enhanced the songs. When, at the
end of the set, Paisley lets his guitar drop into what looks like a water tank,
he gasped; moments later Paisley himself leaped in, appearing to splash. It’s a
neat bit of showmanship that doesn’t grow tired </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">even if you’ve seen him do it
before.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsAXo3fdInpDHv6UkXrxZAU60FoV7a7r2fSDs6R4LukayhJDaQ1IVNZkBVnNnQOam2Ef6C7ShodzVROtXSSDQxek1RtaGMsrj_w-ERFQN6Hoo_WhlfYkgkWg30NJ39ed__-8H9WuyK1E/s1600/Paisley+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsAXo3fdInpDHv6UkXrxZAU60FoV7a7r2fSDs6R4LukayhJDaQ1IVNZkBVnNnQOam2Ef6C7ShodzVROtXSSDQxek1RtaGMsrj_w-ERFQN6Hoo_WhlfYkgkWg30NJ39ed__-8H9WuyK1E/s400/Paisley+1.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three Brads</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Paisley knows how to keep a crowd engaged,
and at this venue – the amphitheater of his youth – he understands that moving
out into the crowd to be closer to those on the lawn is important. Sure enough,
when he moved to a small stage just 20 yards from where we stood, it gave his
acoustic set added resonance. My son was thrilled that he could actually SEE
him up close. Unlike some big name performers, he doesn’t seem afraid of the
crowd. He also peppers his </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">show with localisms that raise huge cheers; there’s
no “Hello Cleveland” moments here.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUEomKBCuMqn447v2DiHfFj-dg449wFxclu2QKmgTMgwG1BWsf3v4CDEGu-xyK1Q9gRccfQ-hMfKstjeAEvTfcUslCLAoLf56kX2CthIEWay9-NMC42_4xGsBDMkJY1z_9u8qLdh9DDF4/s1600/Close+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUEomKBCuMqn447v2DiHfFj-dg449wFxclu2QKmgTMgwG1BWsf3v4CDEGu-xyK1Q9gRccfQ-hMfKstjeAEvTfcUslCLAoLf56kX2CthIEWay9-NMC42_4xGsBDMkJY1z_9u8qLdh9DDF4/s320/Close+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">If there’s one performer that my son loves
more than Paisley, it’s Carrie Underwood, his awards-show hosting partner.
Expecting to see her appear on the big screen for her part on the duet “Remind
Me,” we were delighted that she actually appeared onstage in the flesh, and
boy, did she sing her guts out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">If that wasn’t enough, Paisley had a
genuinely astonishing special guest liven up part of the show: six year-old
Avery Molek, the drumming prodigy, came onstage to deliver a blistering
rendition of “Hot For Teacher” on the concert kit with the full band. <i>The Inky
Jukebox</i> got it on tape. Want to impress a nine year-old wanna-be rock star?
That’s the way to ignite ambition right there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0