Post by 1kennychesney on Jun 4, 2007 10:59:01 GMT -5
Chesney sprints through hits in calculated Caribbean vibe
If Kenny Chesney hadn't come along, someone would have had to invent him.
That's intended as neither criticism nor praise, but a fact of life: Chesney is a country artist for our not-so-country times, an entertainer who doesn't pretend to be all strum and twang. Rather, he's a showman who uses his playful, tropical-minded personality to make an audience feel at home.
That audience was a capacity one at Sound Advice Amphitheatre in suburban West Palm Beach Sunday night, a mass of 19,000-plus people who didn't ask the Tennessean to do much more than work his way through his string of rock and pop-influenced hits and play up the "no shirt, no shoes, no problem" side of his act.
In South Florida, that sort of attitude goes a long way.
Sporting his trademark cowboy hat, a pair of faded blue jeans and a sleeveless green T-shirt, Chesney didn't waste time in setting a lively tone with such party-friendly songs as Beer in Mexico, Summertime and, yes, No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem.
He didn't sing so much as he sprinted through the songs, high five-ing the first row of fans, bounding from one end of the stage to the other, smiling a smile that spoke of his pure satisfaction at showing the crowd a good time.
Eventually, Chesney worked in some slower material - not slow, mind you, just slower - and songs that played up more of a Caribbean or funky sound. By the middle of the 90-minute set, it was obvious that we were a long way away from Johnny Cash territory.
Which, again, isn't a problem per se. Chesney is arguably the most commercial representation of a string of artists, from Tim McGraw to Shania Twain, who have taken country in a different direction during the past decade.
Not better or worse necessarily, just different. It has allowed the genre to reach out to an audience, particularly a young audience, that wants the sort of rock and pop you don't hear much on the radio any more: heavy on the simple tunesmithing and easy-to-grasp lyrics.
What is a problem is that it starts to feel a little too calculated after awhile. (Is it any wonder that Chesney studied marketing in college?)
And the fact that Chesney is an underwhelming vocalist doesn't help matters. When his full band lets loose, he seems smaller than his songs.
Nor does Chesney's day-at-the-beach vibe really resonate: It's a cute concept, but Jimmy Buffett has long claimed that territory with much greater flair.
Chesney may have the rum maker Cruzan as his sponsor, but the rum doesn't quite run through his veins.
Did it matter to the crowd? Not in the slightest.
Chesney isn't aiming for perfection. He's aiming to please. That he did.
If Kenny Chesney hadn't come along, someone would have had to invent him.
That's intended as neither criticism nor praise, but a fact of life: Chesney is a country artist for our not-so-country times, an entertainer who doesn't pretend to be all strum and twang. Rather, he's a showman who uses his playful, tropical-minded personality to make an audience feel at home.
That audience was a capacity one at Sound Advice Amphitheatre in suburban West Palm Beach Sunday night, a mass of 19,000-plus people who didn't ask the Tennessean to do much more than work his way through his string of rock and pop-influenced hits and play up the "no shirt, no shoes, no problem" side of his act.
In South Florida, that sort of attitude goes a long way.
Sporting his trademark cowboy hat, a pair of faded blue jeans and a sleeveless green T-shirt, Chesney didn't waste time in setting a lively tone with such party-friendly songs as Beer in Mexico, Summertime and, yes, No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem.
He didn't sing so much as he sprinted through the songs, high five-ing the first row of fans, bounding from one end of the stage to the other, smiling a smile that spoke of his pure satisfaction at showing the crowd a good time.
Eventually, Chesney worked in some slower material - not slow, mind you, just slower - and songs that played up more of a Caribbean or funky sound. By the middle of the 90-minute set, it was obvious that we were a long way away from Johnny Cash territory.
Which, again, isn't a problem per se. Chesney is arguably the most commercial representation of a string of artists, from Tim McGraw to Shania Twain, who have taken country in a different direction during the past decade.
Not better or worse necessarily, just different. It has allowed the genre to reach out to an audience, particularly a young audience, that wants the sort of rock and pop you don't hear much on the radio any more: heavy on the simple tunesmithing and easy-to-grasp lyrics.
What is a problem is that it starts to feel a little too calculated after awhile. (Is it any wonder that Chesney studied marketing in college?)
And the fact that Chesney is an underwhelming vocalist doesn't help matters. When his full band lets loose, he seems smaller than his songs.
Nor does Chesney's day-at-the-beach vibe really resonate: It's a cute concept, but Jimmy Buffett has long claimed that territory with much greater flair.
Chesney may have the rum maker Cruzan as his sponsor, but the rum doesn't quite run through his veins.
Did it matter to the crowd? Not in the slightest.
Chesney isn't aiming for perfection. He's aiming to please. That he did.
