Merle Haggard 2/10/2007 at the Crest

                      “I guess I thought I better see him while I still could.” I looked at the strange man sitting next to me. His glasses were large, thick bifocals, and his face was covered in a mass of hair. I simply was asking why the man had come to see Merle, and if it was his first show. General concert conversation I guess.

I nodded politely and smiled in response to his answer, expecting to hear some horrible

elaboration from the Allen Ginsberg look-alike about his mortality approaching. I’m not a mean person, and I definitely feel bad for any person at the end of the trail, but I must admit the situation made me uncomfortable.

 “Well, I’ve listened to Merle a long time,” he continued. “But I never saw him live. He’s getting old though, so I decided to see him while I had the chance.” I nodded again, hoping to God the man would silence himself. How could he say that? Merle was old, but he wasn’t that old. Plus, the man still has pipes better than nearly all the other performers in modern music. I decided to avoid further conversation with Mr. Ginsberg, out of fear he would continue his cynical assault on my psyche.

Thankfully the band had begun to silently file onto the stage. The crowd, now buzzing, had reached capacity in Sacramento’s historic Crest theatre. Cowboys, punk rockers, country boys, yokels, hipsters, and white bread suburbia were all in attendance, blending nicely into the renovated theatre.

A young man no more than 20-23 years old approached the microphone, decked out in a yellow western shirt matched with similarly tailored brown pants. “Ah’m not frum round here,” he began in a thick, southern accent. “Yah see, ah’m from North Carolina. We’all hope yah enjoy the show.”

This young man, aside from Merle, was the highlight of the show. He worked the microphone and crowd with showmanship not seen typically seen in men his age. His hips moved like Elvis, his voice carried like Waylon, and if he wanted to, he could make you cry like Hank Williams. Amazingly, he did all of these simultaneously in a way that was his own style.

The music he and his band, the Next Generation, was an excellent blend of electric guitar with country sensibility. Steel guitar, drums, and bass all combined for a great homage to Merle’s Bakersfield sound. It didn’t hurt that a few of the members were from the Strangers, Merle’s group.

                After the set ended, the young man approached the microphone. “We’ll, enjoy Merle. Ah know Ah will. Oh, by the way, my name is Chris…”

WOOOOOOOOOO! Screamed an extremely enthusiastic member of the crowd. So unfortunately, I cannot pass the young man’s name on. Hopefully it’s in the SNR.

Then the main event came on. More cheers erupted, but this man needed no introduction. It was Merle Haggard, “Outlaw Country” legend. Decked out in his jazz suit, fedora and all, he was the spitting image of cool. Not what’s expected from a country legend, yes, but then it’s hard to pin a man down who has sang “Okie from Muskogee” and also “That’s the News” in his illustrious career.

As expected, his music was phenomenal. He sang his hits, “Mama Tried”, “Fighting Side of Me”, and “Lonesome Fugitive.” He also added in a humorous song, which he gave no title for, about age. The chorus was quite fitting for old Merle, who crooned he only wished he “was thirty, again.”

Merle also was extremely adept in his interaction with the crowd. One humorous exchange

occurred when a member of the crowd yelled out “Shafter!” in hopes Merle would play his song request. Merle scrunched up his face, and replied, “I don’t think I’ve ever wrote a song called Shafter. I know where Shafter is, though.” 

I was also personally pleased to hear him play one of my favorites, “Rambling Fever” upon my request (I was two rows back). No song features his full vocal range as well as in that song. I highly recommend listening to it.

Sadly, though, Merle and his pals the strangers had to close the show. Despite the crowd’s best overtures, they left the stage. A great show.

In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have been so irritable towards the Ginsberg clone. After all, he was merely speaking a truth that I didn’t want to hear. It’s a sad fact, but my country music hero’s are gone or on the way out. The “Outlaw Country” movement, which countered the glitzy overproduction of Nashville’s gold country, is drawing to a close. Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Willy Nelson, Kris Kristopherson all fit this category.

However, fitting a category is something they fought against. Record executives “outlawed” them from radio, stressing the point that they didn’t fit commercial interests. Basically, record execs didn’t want to hear about how “Mama Tried” but rather hear about the wonders of the “Honkey-Tonk-Ga-Donk-A-Donk.” They wanted a cheap sell. I won’t buy it. 

I have to say, though, I am grateful for that young singer who rocked the stage to open the show. He gave me hope that maybe good music is evolving in the “Outlaw” spirit. This is not to say that modern pop-country stars aren’t talented, because many are, just like the old rhinestone cowboys. Talent and artistic integrity are separate entities, however. The difference is audible not only in the writing but also the feeling of the music. Merle Haggard convinces in all of his music.  The only convincement in modern music I’ve heard is Toby Keith bellowing about how he “should have been a cowboy.” The outlaws are countrymen who happen to be singers, while the modern stars are singers who happen to be country. So until I figure out that young man’s name, or until someone else emerges worth hearing, I’m with the Ginsberg clone- Go see Merle while you still can.