There are few situations more perfect than a Willie Nelson concert outdoors on a beautiful Saturday night. The appeal transcends most normal musical, generational and cultural boundaries. And so grandmothers, swarthy teenagers, NASCAR fans, hipster rock fans and a large slice of middle America were gathered in a line that stretched throughout Sunset Station, before being allowed to enter the outdoor amphitheater. When Willie took the stage—waving his red, white and blue guitar strap to the audience as a greeting—many parents hoisted their children up on shoulders to see the American icon who covers Kermit the Frog's "Rainbow Connection."
Like his frequent duet partner, the late Ray Charles, Willie Nelson has managed to become a beloved embodiment of American music. Like Charles, Nelson's great genius has been his ability to integrate what others saw as impenetrable musical barriers into an ever more expansive repertoire. (If you want to hear—in a single moment—how these two legends broke through every stereotype in American music, check out Ray Charles and then Willie Nelson, each differently and brilliantly, finding their own voice while making over Hoagy Carmichael's "Georgia On My Mind.") As Nelson has become older, rather than play it safe, this tendency has become even more pronounced. In recent years Nelson has worked his way through discs of blues, rock, reggae, traditionals, gospel and standards. He has done instrumental discs and covered Bach as well as Paul Simon. And while his endless creativity is certainly appreciated, his true mass appeal comes from something else: the outlaw image of the Red Headed Stranger.
Grandfathered in from the pre-Janet Jackson era, Willie Nelson has (like another of his late friends, Johnny Cash) become a symbol of an American rebel integrity that allows him to remain comfortably in the mainstream despite confessing he once smoked pot in the White House and getting smacked by the IRS in the '80s. And—lest you doubt the pattern—throw in that on this week in 1994, Nelson was busted by Texas police for a marijuana roach found in the ashtray of his Mercedes Benz. Oops. Still, you could not imagine, say, the Fox News bigmouths who blasted Pepsi for hiring Ludacris saying a word if Willie were pitching soda.
Nelson has managed to rankle some. Last week, a bill to name a stretch of highway in the state where his Mercedes' ashtray was so assiduously examined, The Willie Nelson Turnpike, was pulled from the Texas legislature. First a couple of Republican representatives complained about naming a road after a man who is known for drinking and smoking and, more to the point, a Democratic activist (though this is a stretch since you have to accept that the word "active" applied to any aspect of the Kucinich campaign).
Nelson's attorney then told The Associated Press that the singer didn't want the road named after him anyway. "Willie simply does not feel that the naming of a toll road in his honor comports with his worldview on either a personal or an artistic level." In other words, when Willie and the Family are "On the Road Again," the streets of Texas ought to be free for the tour bus.
No hard feelings though. As it usually does when Nelson performs, the Texas state flag still proudly hung as the backdrop to the stage at Sunset Station.
Despite his eclectic and ever-expanding musical palette, continuity has always been just as crucial to Nelson. Each show begins with "Whiskey River" and most concerts end with it, too. His beautiful fluid solos are played at every concert on the same acoustic guitar. The instrument is so creaky and damaged that a few years ago The New Yorker did an article on just how Nelson's famous guitar has managed to survive so long. Similarly, Nelson has been playing with the same core group of musicians for decades. This is the 39th year that drummer Paul English has played with Nelson and probably no one can say how many times the two have performed Nelson's song of their travels: "Me and Paul." They did it again on Saturday, with the audience roaring approval when Nelson got to the lines: "Almost busted in Laredo, but for reasons that I'd rather not disclose; But if you're stayin' in a motel there and leave, just don't leave nothin' in your clothes."
During "Me and Paul" the guy in front of me noticed an opening near the stage and walked his ecstatic elderly mother to that seat before coming back to us. Nelson's concerts used to run three hours or so. Since that's longer than most people want to see any concert, the cool thing was that poor but dedicated fans could usually upgrade seats long before the show was over. I remember making it from bleachers to the second row during a show in the '90s, and that concert pushed almost four hours. But time seems to be getting to Nelson more these days.
This show was barely two hours. His voice certainly was worse for wear with lines falling out of songs or not fully articulated and Nelson sounded exhausted in the delivery. Instead of his singing Nelson has come to rely increasingly on his guitar playing. This is why it was of such concern when Nelson's show at Sunset Station last year was cut short due to pain in his wrists. Nelson wound up having to cancel a few concerts after that show to have surgery. But I'm pleased to say on that front that Nelson seems to have made a full recovery.
This time out his guitar playing, if anything, was stronger than I have ever seen it before. Nelson plucked out beautiful solos on "Funny How Time Slips Away," "The Great Divide" and "Me and Bobby McGee," among many others.
After romping through a couple dozen classics, Nelson announced that he was going to play a new song, "Superman." And the legend who turned 72 just a week earlier strummed a chord and sang out the opening line: "I took too many pills and too much pot."
Yessiree, it was a new Willie Nelson song!