Alan Jackson: No Flash, Just Country Cool

The city of New Orleans and golfer Ernie Els are both nicknamed "The Big Easy," but it's hard to imagine that description fitting anyone better than it does Alan Jackson. Laid-back and low-key, the 6-foot-4 singer is the epitome of country cool, a lanky honky-tonk troubadour who never gets rattled, never breaks a sweat.

At MCI Center Friday night, the 46-year-old Georgia native made every wonderful moment of his 90-minute show look effortless. An old hound sleeping on a porch couldn't have looked less burdened. The singer's no-frills, no-fuss approach is a welcome departure from the desperate flash and pathetic pandering of many of his country contemporaries. Though Jackson describes himself as "just a singer of simple songs," it is a typically all-too-humble assessment. He has, arguably, the finest voice among current country artists. Its rich, earthy twang is the perfect vehicle for his family-friendly songs of nostalgia, romance, occasional heartbreak and good clean rowdy fun. They are songs of identity, rooted in a sense of place -- the universal hometown -- and speaking to the values, joys and sorrows of ordinary lives. In other words, they are country songs.

Alan Jackson sang upbeat crowd-pleasers mixed with some weepers at MCI Center on Friday. (Mitchell Layton -- Mci Center) _____Free E-mail Newsletters_____ • Today's Headlines & Columnists See a Sample  |  Sign Up Now • Daily Politics News & Analysis See a Sample  |  Sign Up Now • Federal Insider See a Sample  |  Sign Up Now • Breaking News Alerts See a Sample  |  Sign Up Now

Wearing his trademark tattered jeans and a white cowboy hat pulled down low over his eyes, Jackson, fronting his top-notch nine-piece band the Strayhorns, started things off with "Gone Country," a wry, hook-filled putdown of country dilettantes and interlopers. From there, the owner of 31 No. 1 hits and seller of 43 million-plus records treated his fans to a parade of favorites, including the beery "Pop a Top," "Drive (for Daddy Gene)," a tribute to his late father, and the keep-it-country battle cry "Don't Rock the Jukebox." "It's Five O'Clock Somewhere," his country-goes-to-the-beach hit that he shares with Jimmy Buffett, and a cover of Hank Williams's "Hey, Good Looking" were additional crowd-pleasing singalongs.

Jackson fit in a few of his well-known weepers as well, none of which resonated more than "Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)," his response to the 9/11 attacks. Moving without being mawkish or maudlin, sympathetic without being syrupy, it is by far the best song written about that indelible day.

Opener Martina McBride is an altogether different kind of Nashville superstar. You'll find her CDs in the country music section, but it's a stretch to call much of what she does country. She's a big-league belter who has more in common with Celine Dion than, say, Loretta Lynn or even Gretchen Wilson.

During an hour-long set she offered the slightest hints of country with the exuberant "This One's for the Girls" and "Reluctant Daughter," a bluegrassy/gospel tune. Unfortunately, she has a fondness for treacly tearjerkers. A new one, the god-awful "God's Will," was a saccharine mess. And there were more like it that didn't so much tug at the heartstrings as sledgehammer the senses. An overblown "Over the Rainbow" and a dullish, straightforward cover of Pat Benatar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" didn't help matters much and did even less to help identify her as a country singer.