Like rock's Jimmy Buffett or Dave Matthews, country singer Alan
Jackson can pack a theater with die-hard fans but never has to break
a sweat to entertain them.
His unusual concert -- opening night for Shoreline Amphitheatre's
summer season -- was a cool affair, out in the chilly weather and up
on stage.
In a white hat, jeans and untucked shirt, Jackson ran through a
heap of hits over 90 minutes, backed by a nine-piece band that never
threatened to drown out what was important: the simple lyrics
defined by his down-home twang on songs that rarely got faster than
mid-tempo.
``I hope you might have heard a few of these tunes,'' said the
quiet man whose opening video loudly spelled out his track record of
31 Top Ten hits, 40 million records sold and almost more awards than
Nashville has banjo players.
``This is one of my favorite parts of California right here,'' he
said with that aw-shucks Jimmy-Stewart-as-everyman shuffle that
distinguishes him from the flashier modern country rockers like
Garth Brooks or Tim McGraw. ``It's beautiful country. I remember
riding motorcycles and old cars out here.''
Whatever. His fans ate it up, gosh darn it.
He faithfully ran through ``Gone Country,'' ``Don't Rock the
Jukebox,'' ``Love's Got a Hold on You,'' ``Chasin' that Neon
Rainbow'' and ``Little Bitty,'' throwing in a New Orleans style
arrangement of Hank Williams' ``Hey, Good Lookin' '' and a slightly
rocking cover of K.C. Douglas' ``Mercury Blues.''
The success of this traditionalist, whose songs are more
important than his clothes, hair or acrobatics, is diametrically
opposed to the trends that are turning so much country music into
forgettable ``American Idol'' style pop.
Opener Sara Evans lit up the place with her girl next door
persona and voice -- though she can belt it out better than any girl
next door. Wearing a Bob Dylan T-shirt and jeans, the Missouri-born
singer had a band that sizzled with later-day rock, but she kept the
proceedings mostly traditional. Her voice was a laser-guided
instrument on tales of love and farm life.
One of the Wrights, the band that started the night, is Jackson's
nephew, Adam. He and his fresh-faced wife, Shannon, had more of the
earnestness of club-bred roots rockers than Nashville glitter.
Underneath the scruff, though, was a real hint of future star
power.
Shoreline, meanwhile, is taking a long breather after this first
concert burst. The next shows are scheduled in June.
