Charley Crockett kicked off his Friday night hometown set at Moody Amphitheater with the title track off his latest album, $10 Cowboy, a not-so-subtle hint at how he self-identifies up to this point in his 20-year career.
In his signature deep-toned twang, he sang:
I’m a ten dollar cowboy/
I play a little guitar/
people always ask me/
if I’m a rodeo star/
doubt if I’ve got eight seconds/
but I can sing you a song/
like a big bull rider/
I’m steady holding on
That’s a fairly humble take from a man who packed a venue to the gills, the shoulder-to-shoulder audience pouring out into the walking paths, people two-stepping anywhere they pleased like it was some oversized honky-tonk. But that’s been a critical component of Crockett’s public-facing character all along: a man who has no qualms playing the part of a larger-than-life showman on stage, but who likewise presents himself as a hard-working local who’s loyal to upholding the longevity of the Lone Star State’s musical legacy.
Sure, he’s making waves elsewhere, wowing audiences the world over from Los Angeles to London, but this place is his lifeblood, which he wasted no time telling everyone with tune “Visions of Dallas.”
Well, the first time I left Texas/
I promised not to return/
but in spite of all of my efforts/
there’s some bridges you can’t burn.
To boot, he added a personal touch to “Lonesome Feeling,” switching the lyric “I wish I was back in Texas” to “I wish I was back in Austin.”
That setup exuded fan-focused thoughtfulness and generosity, a theme solidified by the sheer plenitude of his performance: 90-plus minutes spanning somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 songs, enhanced by the ace chops of his backing band the Blue Drifters, who filled out a stage arrangement constructed to look something like a cross between the Grand Ole Opry and a glammed-out CMA Awards show.
The production came off as a nod to the breadth of country music’s cultural impact, which Crockett emphasized further by honoring the genre’s long-standing tradition of covering songs by other revered artists. Like a living, breathing songbook, he handily ran through renditions of tunes by fellow Texan titans James Hand (“Baby, Baby, Baby (Don’t Tell Me That)”) and Townes Van Zandt (“Tecumseh Valley”).
The latter came during a mid-set solo acoustic section, which gave way to another string of covers (Link Wray’s “Juke Box Mama,” T-Bone Walker’s “Travelin’ Blues” and Bill Doggett’s “Hold It”), which saw him ditching his six-string and dancing his ass off, kickin’, bendin’, and gettin’ low like some rodeo cowboy possessed by Britney Spears. All of that culminated into a soaring duet on “Lead Me On” alongside Lee Fields, who likewise stunned during his opening set with an assortment of timeless soul tunes that often begged the question, “Who should be opening for whom?”
As they say, “Sorry, Charley.”
All good-natured chides aside, the night indisputably spotlighted Crockett’s talents and the components of his inimitable identity. Which boils down to what, precisely? He’s given us a good grip of monikers to ponder: the Man from Waco, $10 Cowboy, a clown, Joe Christmas (see “5 More Miles”). But at the end of the day, it’s fair to say that he embodies two coexisting characters: a down-home member of the community who happens to have a penchant for fierce pickin’, but also a songwriter with the star power and skill to potentially earn himself a place within the expansive mythology of Texas country’s kingpins. He said it himself on his latest record:
Cowboy/
Cowboy singer/
both highly hazardous occupations/
Look out!
This article appears in September 13 • 2024.