At a time in Nashville when many country stars are joined at the hip with their stylists and wouldn't know a combine if it ran 'em over, Trace Adkins stands out. Not because he's a traditionalist (he isn't) or because he doesn't have a stylist (he does), but because he's authentic.
A cross between John Wayne and The Rock, he swaggered onto the Sullivan Arena stage Thursday night in a tight black T-shirt that could barely restrain his massive pecs and biceps.
At 6-foot-6, his stage presence is immense and despite his long, flowing Olsen-twin hair you can practically see a halo of testosterone around his head. He is 100 percent believable when he sings about cold beer, hot wings, Wranglers and Skoal rings. In fact, you could see his chew tin through his painted-on jeans.
But the biggest gun Adkins brings isn't of the muscular variety; it's his highly controlled vocal instrument. When he hits his lowest baritone register, the sound vibrates through the floor and up your leg like a Harley-Davidson rumble. Not only does he have a gift, but he put in the sweat to maximize its potential.
In this inexplicable world of redneck chic, where suburban kids sing lyrics about being trailer trash and make a mint off it, Adkins isn't a poser.
Throughout the night, he stuck to a predictable but crowd-pleasing set list from his two greatest-hits albums. The flow was unimaginative. He started off with boot stompers like "I've Got My Game On," crammed all his ballads into the middle, then ended with another round of party tunes including "Hot Mama," "Ladies Love Country Boys" and one of the most bizarrely awesome crossover hits ever, "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk."
The only serious gripe was the one-song encore, something I've never seen before. With the main show being just over an hour, a three-song encore is pretty standard, and that would've been his opportunity to program in a surprise, maybe a cover tune or a non-radio version of a song from his catalog. The only excuse for a one-song encore is if his voice just got too tired to sustain his high level of quality. In that case, he made the right call.
Thankfully, the Sullivan's normally horrific sound was cured for the night, so the audience could get the full effect of Adkins' vocals and his tight six-man band. The full house responded by being the liveliest concert crowd in the venue for the past two years -- doing country swing in the aisles, singing along with nearly every song and rushing the stage midconcert.
Solid sound was especially important as Adkins caressed the slower tracks, such as his latest No. 1, the nostalgic "You're Gonna Miss This" and "Arlington," a gut-wrenching story from the viewpoint of a dead soldier.
Hopefully, this concert marks a new era, not only in the relevancy of national musicians brought to town, but the way we hear them. The folks at the Elton John shows next week will find out soon enough.
Reporter Sarah Henning can be reached at 257-4323 and shenning@adn.com.
By Sarah Henning
shenning@adn.com.