The Pistol Annies: “Thank God”

Heaven On Heels

The Inky Jukebox has been giving The Pistol Annies’ record Hell on Heels a little while to settle in to her brainium before attempting a review because it’s hard, dammit, to come up with words other than “brilliant” and “stupendous” to describe it.

The Annies — Ashley Monroe, Angaleena Presley and Miranda Lambert — harken back to an earlier time when your country music came in harmonized voices you’d hear over the radio. As such they are geniuses because old school country is picking up speed of late. Try on “Bad Example” for size: while the instrumentation sounds jolly, the lyrics deliver a cutthroat message delightfully at odds with Taylor Swift’s politically correct sweetness.

“Now we ain’t ashamed of who we are

We like fast men and cheap guitars

Ain’t trying to get rich, just trying to get by

Playing for tips on a Saturday night.”

Any one of them can hold their own as lead singers, but it is when they come together that magic happens. At the end of “Lemon Drop” the music falls away while they offer a collective sigh “Thank God” that is so incredibly melodious it embodies that very Lemon Drop.

Miranda Lambert doesn’t need any side projects to aid the fame rocket she’s been riding for a few years, but this can only help her by revealing a collaborative side rich in historic reference.

The Inky Jukebox loves the bad girl attitude on this album: “Takin’ Pills” gives us a twangy electric guitar reminiscent of old Duane Eddy songs, (as does "The Hunter's Wife") while the title track “Hell on Heels” sounds more polished. These gals ain’t afraid of wearing their hearts and more on their sleeve, proclaiming very believably their love for “Boys From The South.”

There is not a single song on this record that is less accomplished than another. "Trailer For Rent" however could be The Inky Jukebox's favorite. 

Perhaps what The Inky Jukebox likes most about the whole band is that they could and would have been successful had they appeared at any time in popular music. That’s what talent is.

Thank goodness that time is now. Go buy this album y’all.

The Pistol Annies website

Jason Aldean and his Asphalt Cowboys

His Kinda Party

 A measure of how badly Pittsburgh area folks wanted to see Jason Aldean (it’s been a long time since he played anywhere near here) could be seen August 26^th in the sheer insanity of the traffic heading out to the venue. This is not the first time The Inky Jukebox has started a review by talking about the drive to Burgettstown, but there’s a good reason for this. The First Niagara Pavilion (which folks here usually refer to by any one of its former names — Post-Gazette Pavilion, Star Lake Amphitheater, etc.) is situated way out in the sticks, much closer to the borders of West Virginia and Ohio than to Pittsburgh itself. In fact, it always feels odd when performers talk about being in Pennsylvania because it they took a few steps to the side they wouldn’t be in Pennsylvania at all. Because of the topography (hilly), there are few options in terms of routes one can take to get there from Pittsburgh (one).

So when you start out for a 7:30 show at 4:30 in the afternoon for what should be a 40 minute drive and the highway signs say “Heavy traffic ahead: take an alternate route” the heart sinks. There is no alternate route. The Inky Jukebox is glad she filled her tank because it took four hours. One of those hours was spent at the entrance to the venue just idling on the road going absolutely nowhere because the parking lot had reached capacity and the police were deciding what to do with everyone backed up for miles. Eventually they redirected us further on to a roadhouse field. By this time it was dark, so concertgoers had to scramble through hedges and walk not only the mile back to the venue entrance but also all the way to the actual amphitheater once we got there.

Thus it is that The Inky Jukebox cannot review performances by opening acts Thompson Square and Chris Young, because she missed them. The Inky Jukebox has never seen so many human beings packed so tightly into so small a space; officially the venue’s capacity is listed at 23,000 but the DJ who spun tracks before Aldean came on said we were 25,000. Of course he said this before the thousands of folks behind The Inky Jukebox had arrived.

Was it worth it?

Sure. OK, Kinda. Aldean plays a no-nonsense set with little to none chatter in between songs; he merely moves from one mic to another singing and playing the kind of country rock he’s known for, with his axemen shredding it up on solos that sent the crowd wild. Aldean has a large catalogue of songs to pick a set list from, and though he played his big hits, there was surprisingly little from his latest album, My Kinda Party and overall it seemed like a far shorter set than most other headliners The Inky Jukebox has seen in recent years. For example, the encore consisted of a cover of Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive” followed by “She’s Country.” That’s it. 

The Inky Jukebox was expecting a segue into “Asphalt Cowboy” but no deal. One of the big hits of the night was a pseudo-duet with Kelly Clarkson on “Don’t You Wanna Stay” with Kelly appearing on the screen behind the stage for her part. It was gratifying to hear her voice kick in when expected, and the crowd sent up a huge noise when she appeared (much like when she appeared in person at Reba’s show).

"Don't You Wanna Stay"

 To end the show, Aldean popped a can of beer, and in a super-macho release of energy, shook and smashed it to create an explosion of beer over himself and anyone in the front row close enough to be baptized in a little of his Holy Rock and Roll juice. The Inky Jukebox suggests that if Aldean wants to play with the big boys (and he certainly can if he wants to), then he needs to deliver a longer set and spend more time on the walkway out in the crowd (he performed only one song there). Also, opening a show by yelling out the tour stop's name (Pittsburgh!) makes it sounds like it's all become routine and only assures the crowd of one thing: that you looked it up on the back of a tour shirt before stepping onstage. 

On the very long trudge back to the car, The Inky Jukebox overheard a very drunken half naked chap slur to his friends “You know, it took me four hours to get here; I spent a fucken $150 on a ticket — and you know, I STILL had a fucken good time.” Despite everything, that about sums it up.

Sugarland: The Show Must Go On

The Inky Jukebox does not know how Ms. Nettles managed to get her voice out, but is glad she did.

Brantley Gilbert Cranks It Up

My Kind of Crazy

In every state, there’s a station

Playin’ Cash, Hank, Willie and Waylon…

…and soon they’ll be playing Brantley Gilbert too. They already are (he’s written some Jason Aldean’s big hits), but this time around it’s his name you’ll hear. He’s a young lad with an ear for no-nonsense lyrics and likes them delivered with a side of kick-ass rock thank you very much. His first real hit as a solo artist, “Country Must Be Country Wide” was like a calling card to let folks know what he was about: in short, down-home Southern boy who knows his roots. It’s a catchy tune that sounds like it came from a far more seasoned performer.

But it’s the song “Kick It In The Sticks” that really pulls the lid off and lets you see under his engine. It’s the kind of record city haters will cite as the reason they can’t stand rednecks because it celebrates a kind of masculinity they abhor but good ole boys hold dear. Brantley and Co don’t give a damn; they’ll blast your ears off with their crunching guitars and nearly metal drums. In this, Gilbert fits right in with the unapologetic hard-assery of Eric Church, the backwoods swagger of Justin Moore, and the axe-centricity of Jason Aldean (and his band) — that is to say, all the young dudes who are taking country music out of pop and into rock.

He’s kind of a cutie too, if you think about giving him a shave (and looks better without the Copenhagen grin). His album Halfway To Heaven

was sort of available then not and now a deluxe version reissue is coming out in September. You can hear songs from it on his facebook page and YouTube. The Inky Jukebox can’t wait.

Here's another of his songs. It's as good as anything else out there. Love Love Love it.

UPDATE: This just in from his record label: the completely remastered album with bonus tracks will be re-released Sept 13.

Jonathan Singleton: Probably Just Time

The Inky Jukebox has rediscovered this song lately and thinks it deserves some airplay. Check it out.

Here's the single.

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. 

Pistol Annies: Hell on Heels

A Trio of Trouble

Holy Smokes, y’all — there’s a new sheriff in town and her name’s Annie. Actually, there’s three of ‘em and they’re all named Annie and if you so much as look at ‘em wrong they’s gonna shoot you dead right there on the spot and take your car, your credit cards, your boots and your dog and take a joyride out of town to some Hollywood spa for facials and maybe, just maybe, they’ll stop along the way to pick up a tall, good-looking hitchhiker holding that geetar and play him a tune, I mean play him for a song, I mean play with him until he begs for mercy. Then they’ll push him out the door and head to the bar for whiskey shooters where they will accept your challenge to a karaoke duel but when it’s their turn they will yank that cord right out the wall and sing you one of their numbers instead and yes, they take tips Gawdammit you better fill that upturned hat on the stage and no, you may not go home to your wife and kids until they have finished singing to you and yes, you will like it, you will like it very much indeed.

Pistol Annies Website