The Cowboy Rides Away

I have been a George Strait fan for longer than I care to remember.  I’ve seen the movie Pure Country more times than any normal person should; I can quote entire segments of dialogue, and have been known to (frequently) use selected quotes as my Facebook status.  Several years ago his tour came through where I was living at the time, but I didn’t have the funds to go.  Then in 2010 he swung through again, bringing along Reba McEntire and Lee Ann Womack.  Now that was a concert, bordering on five hours of hit after hit.  There was something incredible about seeing Strait live and in person—a solitary cowboy who plays his guitar and sings into the microphone, yet somehow commands an arena full of people.  You feel connected and engaged from start to finish.  That was an incredible night.  Fast forward two years, when I find a portentous post on my Facebook timeline about a major announcement Strait will make.   Having listened to “I’ll Always Remember You” on his most recent album, the word “retirement” immediately flashed across my brain.  And so it came to pass that he announced his farewell tour, and the gears in my head began to spin once more.  It was announced he’d be coming back through Lexington one final time and I moved heaven and earth to make sure I got the tickets.

The tickets went on sale nearly six full months for the show—a lengthy wait if there ever was one.  After they came and I put them away, I tried not to think about them.  I’m always such a nervous person, and I’m sure I forgot about them once or twice.  Holidays came and went.  Life was mundane.  The days ticked down slowly.  The day finally arrived.  I got my souvenir shirt prior to the show; call me crazy, but I’m hard-pressed to leave the arena for any reason once I get inside.  I want to experience it from start to finish; I don’t want to miss a second of any song.

Martina McBride was the special guest; calling her an “opening act” would be like calling Star Wars an appetizer for The Empire Strikes Back.  She went through a wide variety of hits, both old and new:   Wrong Again, Blessed, Anyway, I’m Gonna Love You Through It.  She gave powerhouse performances on Whatever You Say, A Broken Wing, and, of course, Independence Day.  She did a varying selection of covers:  Rose Garden, King of the Road, and a medley of The First Cut is the Deepest and Free Fallin’ that I’m pretty sure no one else could make work.  She moved around the stage the whole show, a bundle of energy, and her blue eyes must be mega-sharp because anytime someone waved at her, she waved right back.  When it was over, you were left wanting more—but such is the way of any great concert.  You wind up wishing the artist would perform entire albums just for your benefit.

There was a brief lull when she left the stage until a pre-show video played highlighting George’s album and award successes.  Music forms a soundtrack to your life and you remember how great it was to hear a new song on the radio, or the sequence formed when various singles were released.  Life used to move slower, people.  Before Youtube, iTunes, or internet leaks, you heard songs for the very first time on your radio.  Anyway, when George made his appearance, pandemonium.   Everyone stood and shouted as he dove right into the opening songs.  I could definitely see the age on his face this time around, as we all grow older.  He did part of the concrt seated on a stool, but no one cared.  It was such an intimate show, as though he found some way to engage and sing directly to each of the more than 20,000 people in the arena.  It’s always difficult to imagine what he will put into a show; he’s recorded more hits than some people have recorded songs.  He pulled out plenty of old favorites:  Ocean Front Property, The Chair, All My Ex’s Live In Texas, and an especially poignant version of what many would deem his signature song, Amarillo by Morning, the spotlight shining directly on his fiddle player as the arena went dark.  There were several album cuts from early in his career, most of which I knew from repeated listenings to his boxed set.   He sang all three singles from his last album, as well as his newest song.   He dug out Marina del Rey, which I’d never expected to hear live.  No one told the singing audience that it was a forgotten chestnut from the early days of his career, because they sang right along.  George moved around the stage, captivating the audience from all sides.  At one point, Martina returned to the stage for covers of two legendary duets, Jackson and Golden Ring.  What a treat to hear their voices meld.  George had another surprise duet partner, Dean Dillon, whose name is familiar to anyone with a Strait album.  In an evening of so many spectacular songs, it’s hard to pick a favorite.  Then George mentioned Pure Country and jokingly wondered if any of us had ever heard of it.  Um, maybe.  He said Dusty was still around and proceeded into “The King of Broken Hearts” followed by “Where the Sidewalk Ends”.   That one was rollicking, and felt like being inside the movie itself.  That song causes him to crack up in the film, but there was no pause this time.  Wow.  You know if anyone loves the movie like I do—and I’m sure they do, given its regular airings on television—that was definitely a special moment for them.  There was something special about “Troubadour”—if anyone else cut a song like that, it’d be dismissed as hubris.  King George made it perfect, though.   There were so many wonderful old images displayed on the monitors, and the night seemed never-ending and yet all too short.  When he sang “The Cowboy Rides Away”, this time it was for real.  This may be his final tour, but his music will linger on through CDs, records, digital downloads, DVDs, and celluloid.  It will certainly linger forever in my mind.