The Grabby Problem (and Mr. Velvet Hands)

A fan grabbing some ass. Looks like she’s married too. 

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.

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.

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.

It’s one of the big perks of the ticket price. But has the expectation of physical contact become so de rigueur 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? The Inky Jukebox has seen phone footage of the crotches of singers so close to the lens that surely, surely, such an opportunistic grope would have been not only possible, but possibly invited.

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.

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  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.

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.

The Inky Jukebox 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.

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?

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.

(And Justin Moore: don’t stop. OK, you play bigger venues now, and have three kids. But still.)

Whoa, lady! What you grabbin’ at? (Picture cropped.)

Two Lanes of Emotional Traffic

Tim McGraw and Brantley Gilbert, Pittsburgh May 18, 2013

You’d think a concert featuring Brantley Gilbert and Tim McGraw would be awesome, right?

Not so much.

Their Pittsburgh stop wasn’t so much Two Lanes of Freedom, as the tour is billed, as it was one of those traffic jams in which you keep wanting to switch lanes because the other one is going faster than yours, except both are pretty much at a standstill.

Let me explain.

Brantley Gilbert is a young, muscular up-and-comer who puts on a live show in the good old boy tradition, with crowd-rousing songs about drinkin’ and fightin’ and women and guns.

Tim McGraw is an established superstar with a 20+ year career of monster hits behind him.

A t-shirt poll of the crowd confirmed that a large percentage of them were big fans, having shelled out $30 for his current tour shirt, huge flags and the like. McGraw shirts? hardly a one. In fact, I still don’t know what his tour shirt looks like because no-one was buying / wearing them.

Gilbert’s set was great, but far too short. Half an hour is not nearly enough time for a star in his own right to open a show, especially when he has such a long set list of hits. I have seen longer opening sets by third-string acts and American Idol runners-up.

McGraw’s set, on the other hand, was not just too long, but too weighted down with back catalogue twang and new songs with which the crowd was unfamiliar. Sure, he filled in with a predictable selection of the anthems without which folks would burn the place down, but as soon as he whipped the capacity (perhaps over-capacity) crowd to a full-voiced sing-along, he slapped us down with an unheard-of number.

What do people do when the tempo is messed with? They find other ways to entertain themselves. With a crowd of folks in the mood for Gilbert’s type of music, this means getting drunk-ass drunk and socializing. I use the word politely. What McGraw might not have picked up on while he sang along to the video screens, was that no-one was paying attention. No-one was singing along. The youts behind The Inky Jukebox decided the lawn was going to be a mosh pit.

The stage was also decidedly not fan-friendly. This is the first time The Inky Jukebox can remember that an aisle or cross of some kind did not project out into the crowd; instead, the bands were compressed onto a shallow stage which kept them at a considerable distance. At one point, McGraw delivered an entire song sitting on the lip of the stage while adoring female fans caressed his legs. I’m sure they paid a lot of money for the opportunity.

The whole sex-symbol angle, which once upon a time McGraw owned, felt tired and a tad cheap. The show was bloated with ballads and slow-tempo numbers, but the emotion that should have resonated from them — from him singing them, that is — was left to the video backs instead. This was especially true of his duet with Taylor Swift, which fell flat due to technical difficulty: the video wasn’t synched to her voice, and she was filmed in profile, never looking at the crowd. It’s not easy to incorporate an absent singer into a live show, but Jason Aldean did it well enough with Kelly Clarkson.

“Mexicoma” is an abysmal tune and sticks out like a sore thumb on McGraw’s new album. It should never be played at a concert.

This was also a show without McGraw’s old backing band, The Dancehall Doctors — and the new guys played like session musicians rather than a veteran arena band, willing and able to play with the audience, not just to them. Songs began and ended abruptly.

At the every end of the night, Brantley Gilbert reappeared on stage to sing a couple of “Truck Yeah’s” with McGraw for the show’s closer. What, Tim, you didn’t want him upstaging you for the whole song? 

Blisters in the Sun

Brothers (and Sister) of the Sun: Kenny Chesney, Tim McGraw and Grace Potter, Heinz Field June 30, 2012

Heinz Field - great place to see a show

Early in Tim McGraw’s set, the woman sitting next to me leaned over and asked “do you think he goes tanning?”

The man in white

The Inky Jukebox opens with this because it seems to sum up something very interesting about the Brothers of the Sun tour — those compatriots being the aforementioned Mr. McGraw and his longtime pal Kenny Chesney. Billed as a co-headliner, the tour (and everyone attending it) nevertheless implicitly understands that there is no parity here — all is not equal under this particular sun. McGraw is opening for Chesney, and anyone who doubts that ought to come out and see for themselves.

A tanned Tim McGraw in his Christian Grey jeans

But back to the tanning. She asked this because of the deep chestnut color of McGraw’s skin, which was emphasized nicely by his choice of all-white, tight-fitting clothing. Surely this is a shade not achieved in nature? We do not think McGraw goes tanning, no. Not in the way she envisioned, in any case. Does McGraw care about his tan, however? Hells yes. The difference between McGraw and Chesney is that Chesney popped out of his center-stadium podium in a sleeveless grey shirt with a small sweat stain already darkening it — a few songs later it was soaked through. Did he change it? No.

Honey Badger don't care about being sweaty

It was odd seeing McGraw do his set in the sunlight — after years of closing shows in the prime spotlight, it was a bit sad to see him deliver “Live Like You Were Dying” without the dramatic assistance provided by darkness and lighting. (And by "sunlight," we mean scorching 100 degree solar glare. Hence the aptness of their cover of "Blister In The Sun.") His set was also weighted with too many unfamiliar tracks — ending with his new single “Truck, Yeah,” which is far too easy to simply call “Truck, NO.”

But lo, what light from yonder spotlight breaks? Why, 'tis a brother of the sun 

Add to that the fact that there were still too many yellow seats waiting for their tailgaters and the sheer volume of the crowd once Chesney appeared, and you got the feeling that the torch had been passed — and not just on this tour, but perhaps years ago.

Bring your beach balls, y'all

This show marked a historic precedent, which was marked by the presentation of an iron plaque celebrating Chesney’s sixth straight sold out show at Heinz Field. This is notable because although Chesney is obviously a friend of football, and has made stadiums his own stages all across the country, it genuinely feels as if the Heinz crowd responds in a special way. Perhaps this is also because Chesney has the gift of actually sounding genuine when he speaks to the crowd. It goes a very long way.

Raucous, drunken crowd enjoying the show

Chesney also knows a very significant thing about his audience: we come to have a good time, and to hear his greatest hits. This, he delivers, one after another, the entire show.

In the morning he'll be leaving, taking himself off to Cleveland, but for now he's mine, all mine

Jack-in-the-box

It is bookended by “Beer In Mexico” and “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy,” the opening violin strains of which whip the crowd into a frenzy.

Where's Kenny?

But the awesome spectacle of a Kenny Chesney concert was not necessarily the highlight of the evening — it was Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. Because they haven’t had a hit single, and folks only really know of Potter through her duet “You and Tequila” with Chesney, it seemed odd that she would go on after Jake Owen, who has had numerous hits. But as soon as Potter strutted out on stage dressed in what looked like a low-cut black bathing suit and flimsy wrap, her ridiculously long legs amped up on heels, singing by herself, unaccompanied — the half-full stadium immediately sat up and paid attention. Her entrance was astonishing — as was the entire set, where she played keyboards, a sweet Flying V, and drums, all the while delivering a husky-voiced blistering serving of blues rock. By the time she shook her stuff to ZZ Top’s “Tush,” The Inky Jukebox was sold. What was this girl like in high school? Wow.

Country girls and boys gettin' down on the stage

Kenny Chesney delivers nothing but monster hits

Tuskegee Homecoming

The Return Of Lionel Ritchie (With Friends)

They say that 99% of people admit they sing along to Lionel Ritchie songs when they come on the radio, and the other 1% are lying. Of all Ritchie’s contemporaries, he appears to have survived the ravages of time (and fame, wealth and plastic surgery) the best. In fact, the fame, wealth and hair dye mean that he looks better than he did when his hit making years were at their peak. This is also because he no longer wears jumpsuits and a combed out afro. But it’s not just about looks: on stage he appears limber, energetic, and in full voice has not lost any of his high notes. The same cannot be said, say, of his partner in crime, Kenny Rogers (who curiously, looked to the the exact same shade of orange as Lionel Ritchie on the CBS Special. For a taste of pre-surgery Kenny, see below).

Ritchie could easily sit back and enjoy his $200 million fortune, but no. Someone very savvy has decided that it’s time he hitched himself to the country music bandwagon and re-recorded his greatest hits alongside country’s hottest stars. The album, Tuskegee, named after the city of his birth, has been met with wild success, galloping to number one right out of the gate.

There is no reason to re-record these timeless hits unless it is to give them  makeover, or perhaps to see how other people sing them. He’s half done this. In interviews, Ritchie describes how wonderful working with these singers was, though a revealing pattern emerges; the country stars, chomping at the bit to take on these songs, all seem to have done such good jobs that no room was left for Ritchie on the tapes. But this, being a duets album, Ritchie has inserted himself very prominently on all of the tracks, opening them up and taking the big notes. It’s a bit like going to a concert where the conductor jumps into the orchestra to take turns playing all the instruments.

We already know how Ritchie sings these songs — brilliantly, memorably. And though the songs are very listenable, I suspect The Inky Jukebox is not the only listener who wishes we could simply hear his guests do their thing. While some songs sound like really really good karaoke — essentially the same arrangement as the originals, others have been totally overhauled to amazing effect. The standout example is “Hello,” a song much lampooned as a pathetically drippy ballad, which is here transformed by Jennifer Nettles into a rousing up-tempo number. One suspects Ms. Nettles simply overwhelmed Ritchie’s ego with the power of her voice.

A wasted opportunity is the remake of “Lady,” the blockbuster hit Ritchie originally wrote for Kenny Rogers, which is here sung by … Kenny Rogers.

Other songs are revelations, the full power of which was only seen on the concert performed by these artists which was aired on CBS. Jason Aldean’s “Say You, Say Me,” another of the middle-of-the-pack Ritchie songs was given new life with his reedy voice and honky-tonk delivery, something not found on the recorded track, which Ritchie disappointingly brings back into the framework of the original.

Kenny Chesney’s ability to sing a love song is something The Inky Jukebox would like to have heard more of — the whole song, say — with “My Love.”

While Shania Twain does nothing much for “Endless Love” on the album, the duet featuring Marc Anthony and Sara Evans really stood out on the concert broadcast. This is the best Evans has sounded in a TV broadcast in a long time.

Ultimately, it’s wonderful to hear these songs again, and Tuskegee is an album worth having. The Inky Jukebox just wishes it wasn’t such a one-horse race, and that the guests didn’t have to jockey for position in the studio. It’s Easy. Sadly, the album does not feature Big & Rich singing "Brick House." 

Here's Tim McGraw doing "Sail On" as part of his live show last summer.

Tim McGraw, Luke Bryan & The Band Perry’s Emotional Traffic Tour

Country Boys, Shake It For Me

You could tell that Tim McGraw was going to play to a capacity crowd in Pittsburgh on July 30, because the right lane of Route 22 was back up for a mile with concert-goers in pick-up trucks patiently edging along to take the Burgettstown exit.

It was a perfect night for a concert; not only because it was a Saturday — which as Luke Bryan noted meant that we could really party and not worry abut getting up for work in the morning (what about getting up for church, huh?) — but because it was one of those midsummer nights with a beautiful sunset taking the sizzling heat off the day, and a sky so clear it was as if all the stars in the heavens had been commandeered for stage lighting.

The Hype Doesn’t Lie

The 23,000-strong throng consisted, predictably, largely of ladies, given that this concert featured a band popular with girls, and two heartthrobs. The Band Perry, who exploded onto the scene last year, clearly understood that they owe their success to the song “If I Die Young” which the crowd sung along with enthusiastically.

A Little Frisky

Luke Bryan performed a satisfyingly long set that included all of his hits and demonstrated ably why his star too is on the rise. Last year’s ACM Top New Artist knows what performing is all about, deftly wiggling his ass not just during his set but in the evening’s high point, where his simulated sex moves brought the house down as he dueted on "Back When" with Tim McGraw.

He’s a handsome man, all lean muscle, built very much like McGraw, in fact, an attribute that can’t hurt. He also knows his fans and what they like, a short list of things that includes Girls, Hunting, and Beer. He’s a country man and sings about things country folk know — and at shows like this, where the venue is far enough outside town to attract a mainly rural audience —that goes a long way. What he also knows is that though his fan base is going to have a large female component, he can’t neglect the guys, so while the girls get the ass-wiggling, the dudes get AC/DC riffs from his axe-grinding guitarists, and an homage to metal, with Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” making an appearance, which, frankly, rocked.

 How Do You Do It? Something Like That

It’s not unusual nowadays for singers to venture out into the crowd to sing a few numbers for the up-close-and-personal touch. Brad Paisley did it to great effect last year, and so does Taylor Swift. But it tends to happen half-way through the show, so the band can take a break or hang back a bit. Not so Tim McGraw, who opened by singing two songs at a mic right among the folks who got decent, but not great, seats. (How d'you like 'em now?) While last year at the same venue he saved most of his giant hits (the ones he cannot leave off the set list) for the encore, this time around he kicked off with “Something Like That” which meant that he was almost drowned out by the crowd singing along.

McGraw and his long-time band The Dancehall Doctors don’t have too much truck with fancy stage sets, preferring to simply deliver songs, one after the other, all night long. Last night’s show was being broadcast live on Sirius satelite radio, and knowing that appeared to make the crowd do their best to be heard roaring their approval and singing along with an alarming gusto — so much so that McGraw often let the audience sing, and showed his admiration for our (admittedly superb) efforts with much non-verbal chest pumping and smiling, not something that you can see on radio, but which works great in person.

Despite this, McGraw was not in best shape; a recently broken foot prevented him from engaging on most of the hip-swaggering moves he usually makes, though not from gently covering the stage as he walked about. “Don’t feel sorry for me,” he told us. “Faith looks damn good in a nurse’s uniform.” One always wonders (hopes) that his wife, Faith Hill, will make a surprise appearance for one of their duets, but this year, as last, it was not to be. His voice also seemed rough for the first several songs (head cold? Pain medication? Old age?). Fortunately, McGraw’s voice warmed up as the show progressed, and he delivered a very fine rendition of The Commodores’ “Sail On,” which he recorded recently with Lionel Richie. He wasn’t sure the crowd would be old enough to remember it —he’s 44 — and they may not have been. The Inky Jukebox (who is the same age) sure does though.

The odd thing that marks the Emotional Traffic Tour is that McGraw does not have an album to promote. This is due to a contract dispute with his label, who has not released it. Nevertheless, he played several of the songs from it — all of which hinted at how great the unheard album is — throughout the night, clearly deeply irked that we cannot enjoy it beyond the live show. This is not the first time McGraw and his label have been at odds (he disowned the third Greatest Hits record – which contained no hits – and rightly so).

The Inky Jukebox appreciates that whoever drew up his set list took a look back at what he performed last year and chose different songs; after all, he’s going to be playing to people who faithfully come out every time he passes through. This time he dug deep, going all the way back to early in his career, and he has a long career from which to select songs. One thing he can’t really do differently though is save the best for last, and again, he did just that, the opening strains of “Live Like You Were Dying” humming in the dark as we awaited the encore. He delivered his signature song simply, giving it his all at the mic stand, seemingly aware that if the global audience listening in live were going to climb on his bandwagon, he ought to act like he was in the studio on this one. The Inky Jukebox wonders if all those folks listening in on their radios could hear us singing our hearts out to every word as if our lives depended on it.

Probably, yes. 

Real Good Man: The Best of Tim McGraw

I Guess That's Just The Cowboy In Him

 The Inky Jukebox has been highly critical of Tim McGraw in the past, but this has mostly been due to his acting. Or rather, the roles he’s played. But The Inky Jukebox thinks Tim McGraw is one of America’s great singers and it’s a shame that a lot of folks would preface that by saying “country music singers.” He’s one of the nation’s best talents, period, genre notwithstanding. The mind boggles that giant swaths of the population has never or will never hear his songs because they are relegated to country music stations / channels.

It’s been 21 years since McGraw signed a record contract, and in that time he’s sold 40 million albums and put out three Greatest Hits records, although this is misleading because he publically disowned the third one his label put out without his approval (and rightly so), because it consisted entirely of tracks left over on the floor after all the decent material had been taken, none of them hits, let alone “great.”  The first two are genuinely representative of the bulk of his career, however, which can be pretty much divided into two halves.

First, there is early Tim McGraw with a thick Louisiana twang and a high, tinny voice singing about hick life and Indian Outlaws. Then he became a real star, married Faith Hill, and started putting out records with a much higher production quality featuring the industry’s best songwriting. Here we have mature McGraw, with his ubiquitous shiny black hat, tight shirts, and the sexy confidence of a superstar. His voice deepened and he learned to drop the heavy dialect, especially noticeable when he sings slow.

It is worth noting that the Dancehall Doctors, McGraw’s recording and touring band have been with him for a zillion years, are one of the best backing bands around; totally smooth professionals.

In lieu of that awful third Greatest Hits album, The Inky Jukebox would like to propose a Best Of collection. Yes, we know it eschews much of McGraw’s early sound, and nearly avoids “hits” which were released as singles, but that’s what we’re all about here at The Inky Jukebox. We don’t care if they were a single or an album track: these are just the best songs. This is not a list, per se, in that the songs are ordered according to how good they are; it is a playlist for an album.

You will note that in general, McGraw’s videos are a montage of live concert footage where he gets to show off all his moves and wear his shirt open to here. Read on through to the end, y'all: there is a very special treat waiting for you.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Live Like You Were Dying

There is a reason McGraw leaves this one for the encore; it’s not only a brilliantly written song with ties to McGraw’s own life (the death of his father Tug McGraw), but it’s catchy and singable and delivered with genuine feeling. It poses a simple question about mortality (“what would you do? / what did you do? / what would I do?) and answers it in soaring fashion in the chorus.

I went sky diving, Rocky Mountain climbing

I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Manchu

I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter

and I gave forgiveness I’d been denying…

In true anthemic fashion, that last line changes in the last, bombastic chorus to “watched an eagle as it was flying,” thereby lending the song a hokey but effective metaphor for the soul carried up to heaven. The video is classy in a high-exposure black and white. I defy any person living south of the Mason-Dixon Line not to be able to finish the line “I went 2.7 seconds….”

That’s Why God Made Mexico

Margie said Roy, you ain’t listening to me

And I’ve got a whole lot more to say

Roy just crossed the floor and picked up his car keys

And she ain’t seen or heard from him to this day

And that’s why God made Mexico

First of all, the opening lines are The BOMB, and second of all, you have to listen to the song to figure out what the hell it all means. (HINT: it involves escaping the law and tequila.) Evidently, God is a master of making geographic entities way the heck after man was around to conquer the natives and conduct the Louisiana Purchase and all that man-made shit. Just ask Jason Aldean, who credits the Lord with making “those flyover states.”

Real Good Man

I may be a real bad boy

But baby I’m a real good man

Oh Mama. The Inky Jukebox probably doesn’t have to deconstruct this one for you, but we will anyway. Girls marry good men but fantasize about fucking bad boys. Bad boys are no good; they break your heart. But they are SEXY. McGraw gets all John Donne on us here by providing a carpe diem plea for a lady to go on a “wild ride” with his “velvet hands” by arguing both sides of the proverbial coin. On the one hand he’s a much-desired bad boy; on the other — it’s a trick! There is no other side because the “good” here refers to how awesome he is in the sack. Look too at the clever juxtaposition of “boy” to “man.” He’s challenging her need for an immature lover by offering her a real man. It doesn’t hurt that he sings it like a hen-night stripper, either. Gimme.

Mr. Whoever You Are

This slow number from 2009’s Southern Voice album has such a beautiful melody and is so well sung it has fast become the album’s quiet standout for The Inky Jukebox. Amazing songwriting from Sean McConnell, but also a great example of the phrasing being improved mightily by the star. It’s also notable for being one of the increasing number of records McGraw puts out from the woman’s point of view, which is refreshing. Pity that they are all sluts and whores though.

Let’s get the hell out of this bar / Mr. Whoever you are.

Put Your Lovin’ On Me

Sometimes a phrase is better when it’s destroyed a little bit. Case in point: asking someone to love you. You can say “please love me,” or “hold me” or even “fuck the living daylights out of me” but nothing quite captures the essence of the yin and yang of male / female relationships like asking someone to “put [their] lovin’ on [you]. It’s as if the love were a cloak or some lovely unguent one could massage in. It suggests a hint of the dom / sub too; it’s a request in no uncertain terms to have something done. It’s also rather tender. It’s one of The Inky Jukebox’s favorite love songs, simple and direct.

Where The Green Grass Grows

This is some old-school country featuring twangy Tim singing about the classic desire for a simple life away from the concrete jungle. It’s a crowd-pleaser, an essential concert set list piece, and the crowd sings every word with utter conviction. The chorus is super peppy, best sung when the band has stopped playing simply to clap the beat.

I’m gonna live where the green grass grows

Watching my corn pop up in rows

Every night be tucked in close to you

raise our kids where the good Lord’s blessed

Point our rocking chairs towards the west

Plant our dreams where the peaceful rivers flow

Where the green grass grows

The Cowboy In Me

One of the sexiest songs there ever was. Why? Well, the title is pretty damn suggestive for a start, and flirts with naïveté; is the guy singing about his rough and ready side, or is a girl literally talking about her lover? Hmmm…. All The Inky Jukebox knows is that it raises your pulse and includes one of the best guitar solos in country music. It deserves its place as McGraw’s exit song at live shows, when he can walk offstage a sex-God hero. As with all good songs, it delivers a twist: the song moves the refrain of the title from first person singular (I, me) to first person plural (us, we).

We ride and never worry about the fall

I guess that’s just the cowboy in us all

If you are going to listen to one Tim McGraw song, listen to this one to get a good idea why he is the superstar the ladies love. This version gives a good glimpse of it as a closing salvo live. 

Sing Me Home

This song features the memorable lines “Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah / yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah / Sing me home.” You will not find these printed in the lyrics however. The Inky Jukebox includes this song because it sounds like a Tim McGraw song. A measure of an artist’s success is that his or her work is immediately recognizable and unique. This is it.

Between The River and Me

This is one of those story songs in which the protagonist murders his stepdad and covers up the crime, but it’s justified because evil stepdad beat on his Mama. The way the song builds in intensity and the powerful chorus are a great example of a McGraw narrative song.

I Need You

Tim and Faith have done numerous duets, but this is the sweetest. The video is a live take, so a little different from the record. This is on McGraw’s album, but she gets all the vocal fireworks in the song.

Something Like That

He had a barbecue stain on his t-shirt, she was killing him in that mini-skirt. The rest is history.

She’s My Kind of Rain

It’s a ballad. It has full-on strings. And “confetti fallin’ down,” etc. Don’t listen to the lyrics, just pick up your girl / guy and slow dance with them for Gods sake. Then make some babies why dontcha.

Please Remember Me

A good singer can deliver power ballads with a voice that remains strong enough to knock the mic stand down yet subtle enough to manage the nuance of melody and still feel like it’s being sung from the heart. This is just such a song. The lyrics are a big gloop of treacle scraped off the bottom of a teenager’s dream journal about as packed with the most wrenching cliché as you can imagine, but ignore them and just listen to the music.

Watch The Wind Blow By

All I wanna do is let it be and be with you

And watch the wind blow by

Yes, another ballad. This one features a lovely bit of fiddle playing and falsetto at the end. Gorgeous. Sorry about the video. The Inky Jukebox couldn’t help herself. Enjoy.

Drinking Songs About Drinking

Make It A Stiff One

Ever since cavemen invented guitars and someone took a chance on that nasty fermented stuff swishing around at the bottom of a flask and discovered the twin  joys and perils of alcohol, music has served as a vehicle for sharing some of the lows experienced as a result of hitting the bottle. The woes of booze is a subject whose genesis has found a particularly rich history in country music, which has never shied away from songs that celebrate the many ways one can fuck up in life.

Putting together a list of Alcohol Blues is a difficult task because there are so many songs to choose from; one could compile a Top Ten from David Allen Coe and/or Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard and George Jones and Johnny Cash alone. OK, individually. Whiskey features prominently, as you’d expect, but so does Tequila, and let’s not forget George Jones’s “White Lightning.”

Therefore, The Inky Jukebox presents this list of ten Drinking Songs that you might have overlooked. The list has been narrowed down by these criteria: the song must be about something that has gone or will go badly wrong as a result of drinking, and it isn’t simply about beer. You could have a list about beer all by itself. Usually, though, songs about beer are happy and involve partying and having a good time at the bar with babes. Likewise, this list avoids, where possible, songs written about bars or being at a bar — there are plenty of those too. 

This is not a happy list. This is a cautionary tale.

• “Alcohol” – Brad Paisley

That being said, we’ll start with a humorous take from a song whose title needs no explanation. It’s an instant classic, and this video is a compilation from Paisley’s 2010 H2O tour, where the song proved to be a rowdy, raucous finale for an audience of very drunken people who have paid more than the price of admission for cheap beer and/or those hideous “frozen concoctions” that help one hang on. (To what? Not your dignity, that’s for sure. Ladies.)

• “Sometimes A Man Takes A Drink” – Trace Adkins

Trace Adkins sings this beautifully, but The Inky Jukebox can’t find him doing it on YouTube, so here is the song’s co-writer Larry Cordle doing it at a WSN event. All good country songwriting features juxtapositions; this song makes the most of a clever twist: “Sometimes a man takes a drink / but sometimes a drink takes a man.” So true, brother, so true.

• “Ten With A Two” – Kenny Chesney

Originally written by Willie Nelson (who let’s face it in the looks department, rates nearer two than ten), this version by Kenny Chesney punches it up with steel drums and swinging horn section that would probably make your head explode if you had the kind of hangover he indicates here. An homage to the danger of donning beer goggles, y’all.

• “Whiskey and You” – Tim McGraw (Chris Stapleton)

In country music, the reason men drink themselves silly is because of some woman. Either she left him or she won’t. Thus the poor chap ends up finding solace at the bottom of a bottle, which strangely enough, gives him the magical ability to compose those wonderful paradoxes. Here’s one of them: “I’ve got a problem but it ain’t like what you think / I drink ‘cause I’m lonesome, and lonesome ‘cause I drink.”

The best-known version of this song is by Tim McGraw, but that's just because he's such a superstar. It was written by Chris Stapleton, late of the bluegrass band The Steeldrivers. Here he is singing it the way only one who write it can. Absolutely beautiful.

• “High Cost of Living” – Jamey Johnson

Jamey Johnson knows from drinking yourself into a hole to chase a broken heart. He’s also a master of the twisted lyric: “The high cost of living / Ain’t nothing like the cost of living high.” The Inky Jukebox prefers this bit of live performance to the “official” video, which features some skanky-looking dude and a car and a girl etc.

• “This Bottle (In My Hand)” – David Allen Coe and George Jones

It’s David Allen Coe and George Jones, y'all. What more do you want? Drunken Squirrels?

• “Whiskey Won The Battle” – Ashton Shepherd

This song builds steam as it gathers energy like an incoming storm that tears to shreds everything around it. This is a fall-down-can’t-get-up drunk you know will hurt in the morning. Or for years.

• “Guilty” – Bonnie Raitt

Ain’t nothing like the sound of drunk-ass era Bonnie Raitt singing while drunk off her ass. The Inky Jukebox loves this live recording from some rowdy bar somewhere whose patrons that night got treated to an awesome rendition of a classic drowning-your-sorrows song. “It takes a whole lot of medicine darlin’ / For me to pretend that I’m somebody else.” Yep, Randy Newman wrote that, go figure. Sing it, sister.

• “You And Tequila” – Kenny Chesney and Grace Potter

Another by Chesney simply because this song’s video was just released today, and the video for it is oddly hot. Though the protagonist and his lady friend are hopeless drunks, they still manage not to spill those carafes of liquor as they stumble down hallways barely clothed.

• “Hair of the Dog” – Shooter Jennings

When you’ve “drank all night till the crack of dawn” like Shooter, you, too can wake up wishing you were “dead and gone.” On the other hand, you could wake up with the ability to sing like him, which wouldn’t hurt. The Inky Jukebox wonders if, with a name like “Shooter,” one is destined to live up to it?

* * * * * * *

Let's not forget these honorable mentions:

“Whiskey Lullaby” – Brad Paisley and Allison Krauss

“Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound” – Hank Williams Jr.

“Sunday Morning Coming Down” – Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson

“Wasted” – Carrie Underwood

“Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” – Joe Nichols

Mix Me A New One, Bartender: Country Rap

Q: What do you get when you cross over? 

A: A Cowboy with a Devil's Haircut Sittin' at a Bar 

singing a Dirt Road Anthem.

When it comes to the mixing of musical genres, The Inky Jukebox is often a bit skeptical of the results. In recent years there have been some well-known attempts to blend country music with rap.

Kid Rock, for instance, is the embodiment of such an unlikely marriage, a creature embraced by both worlds with the personality and cajones to pull it off. “Cowboy” is clearly the most successful example of a seamless blending of these two genres because like a good mixologist, he pours the fundamentals of both to form a whole new drink. He brings the pace and delivery of rap with the melodic rhythms of a good Southern Rock together, and neither bows to the other.

But there was a much earlier Kid Rock, by the name of Beck. Bear in mind this was 1996, and give “Devil’s Haircut” a new listen to hear how laid back and country his underlying melody is. He’s kitted-out in western-wear, which mollifies the hipster-douchebag vibe somewhat. (Compare it to Billy Currington’s video for “Don’t” – seriously.)

Tim McGraw and Nelly collaborated on “Over and Over” in 2004 with less convincing results. It appears as though McGraw is merely providing backing vocals for a soft R & B song, which misses the point for both artists. It also provides a dilemma for marketing: which pigeonhole can you slot this into? It’s not a bad song — it is pleasant to hear, but it’s sleepy and forgettable.

The convoluted history of Rehab’s “Bartender Song” makes for a nice Nashville ending, and shows how hip-hop and country can drink together in harmony. Originally called “Sittin’ At A Bar,” the title was changed to circumvent an unauthorized reissue by their former label once it became popular. Bringing Hank Williams Jr. in for a duet really upped the ante and gave it a whole new audience. You know things are going to go well when Bocephus walks in the door. Again, this works because the music is consistent and melodic throughout. It helps that Danny Alexander’s voice matches Hank Jr’s so well. (The Inky Jukebox LOVES this song.)

The latest rap / country performance does something different again: it takes a country singer who raps out verses for a hard-core edge. But if you ever wondered how on earth Jason Aldean ended up rapping his “Dirt Road Anthem” of all things, it’s because of the song’s interesting genesis. Originally written by “Country Rapper” Colt Ford and Brantley Gilbert, and recorded separately by both. Colt Ford’s version has Gilbert’s vocal on the chorus.

It’s a more laid-back version than Aldean’s, and if you’re used to that one it will be a revelation to hear how the floating vocal overlay enhances this duet. It reminds The Inky Jukebox of rapper-turned-country-boy Uncle Kracker, cruising along in a convertible. Compare it to Aldean’s angrier, bitier, higher-wattage version.

Evidently, Aldean’s cover of this song has ruffled a lot of feathers, especially among those who think that either he shouldn’t be rapping, or that he’s not giving credit to the song’s originators. To quiet them down, Brantley Gilbert offers this reassurance to his fans. It’s not the first time Gilbert and Aldean have come together for a hit: the title track off Aldean’s album “My Kinda Party” was written and recorded by Gilbert first.

Check it out —The Inky Jukebox likes it a lot (especially the guitar licks) and it bodes very well for Gilbert’s burgeoning career now that he’s signed to The Valory Music Co.

Colt Ford’s rap remix of Montgomery Gentry’s “Roll With Me” is one example of where trying to squeeze two genres together doesn’t work. Essentially, all he’s done is added rap and speeded things up, and for anyone who knows the original, it can’t be a satisfying outcome given that it was sublime to begin with.

Speaking of strange mash-ups, we’ll end by asking you to try this other iconic 80's hit on for size: shockingly, it ain’t as bad as you think it will be. Enjoy, y'all.