Gig: Willie Nelson / Ray Price / Billy Bob Thornton & The Boxmasters

Willie Nelson / Ray Price / Billy Bob Thornton & The Boxmasters

Massey Hall. Wednesday, April 8, 2009.

It isn't often that I stoop to dealing with the Babylon System or pitch out the big bucks for a gig, but sometimes you gotta. Despite his general vigour and lots of touring, you have to ask yourself: "how many more chances will I have to see Willie Nelson?" So, paying the premium price (like what I'd pay for four or five regular gigs) is a bit more justifiable for a once-in-a-lifetime occasion. All the moreso when the announced opener was Ray Price — who knows if he'll pass this way again?

So I made my way down to the Grand Old Lady of Shuter Street. With a few minutes to kill and figuring I wanted to walk a bit before settling into those seats, I walked around the block and came in walking up Victoria, past the stage door (with LP-clutching fans waiting around) and the tour buses. A guy was making a rider delivery to one of them as was walking by, carrying a armload of bottled water and soft drinks. The bus door opened as I walked by and a strong whiff of ganja floated out onto the street. I headed in and after ducking downstairs to look at the merch table ($40 t-shirts, $30 CDs) began the trek up to the gallery — that is to say, the second balcony.¹ Even when I bought my ticket, I knew I'd be paying a lot for an uncomfortable experience, but I'd forgotten just how little legroom there is up there. Clearly not built for modern-day bodies. But that's what I get for cheaping out for my expensive gig.

First up was a late addition to the bill, Billy Bob Thornton and band. Although worried about the odds of this falling into the crappy celebrity vanity project vortex, I was mostly content to reserve judgment. It turns out that instead of Bad Santa levels of grumpiness², Thornton's band was merely blandly competent, sort of like BR5-49 without the edge. For all of the talk of having a British Invasion edge, I found it to be pretty straightforward country rock — nothing to get excited about, but pleasant and reasonably well-executed. The band had a slightly swollen seven members on stage all told, leading me to wonder: who really needs two rhythm guitarists? They played for half an hour, largely keeping the set moving along, stopping only for one lengthy bit of banter from Billy Bob. As his gesture to the fans, he had a small stack of drumsticks on the edge of the drum riser, and he'd occasionally flip one out into the crowd.³

After a break — during which the leather-jacket-wearing boomers (or at least those able to tackle the stairs) headed down for a beer — came Ray Price. Who was, simply put, stupendous. At 83, Price is still in great voice, and there wasn't a false note in his forty-five minute set. No more the shuffling honky-tonker who was brought to the Opry by Hank Williams⁴, Mr. Price brought a smoother countrypolitan sound, complete with a four-fiddle string section. The band was excellent, including masterful pedal steel and magnificently minimalist drum work. I think it was the restrained backing and economical arrangements that allowed the music to avoid the taint of schmaltz. The setlist hit all the high notes one would expect, including the sublime "Crazy Arms", "Heartaches By the Number", and, of course, "Release Me", which was a hit for Price before it made its way to Engelbert Humperdinck. "City Lights" was also a highlight, and the set ended with Hank Williams' "Mansion on the Hill". The crowd was respectfully reverent⁵, treating the entertainer to a standing ovation, and Price seemed to appreciate the crowd's response, taking care to mention that despite his age, he has no intention of retiring. A true delight.

I enjoyed that enough that I was left wondering if Willie could top it, and the answer was "almost". Willie Nelson, at this point, could really rest on his laurels and take the easy route on stage, so perhaps the most delightful part was the sense that he wasn't just coming to deliver the hits in a staid way, but that he was still pushing himself creatively.⁶

Backed by a relatively small band⁷, it's striking that Willie was the only guitar player on the stage (playing that guitar of course). At a point where he could probably let someone else handle the leads and just provide his voice, he was willing to let the songs stand or fall on his unique rhythms. The advantage of this cozy configuration was that Willie was free to tinker with the cadences of his songs, and proceeded, on a fair few numbers to compress the vocal parts of the line to leave more room for the punctuating guitar runs. Those hands were in fine form, and kept up a busy pace throughout. At this stage of his career, the setlist was punctuated by a few instrumentals to rest his voice, but he pretty much never stopped playing.⁸

Starting with "Whiskey River", the set ran just over an hour but was non-stop, and so many classics came and went it's hard to pick out highlights. It was truly a blur. I do recall an especially sweet "Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground", but overall there was such a consistent plenitude it's difficult to pick out moments. Towards the end, there were two non-canon new-ish songs, including the self-mythologizing "Superman":

Too many pain pills too much pot
Tryin to be something that I'm not
Superman Superman
Tryin to do more than I can
I ain't Superman.

If this was my once-in-a-lifetime shot, then it was a pretty good one, and truly felt like value for money. Willie Nelson is such an institution that it feels like he's going to be around forever, but I'm glad I didn't take that for granted.

---

¹ Given the number of shell-shocked, exhausted boomers and elders I saw emerging from the stairway to take their seats, one wonders, given demographics and the usual sort of Massey Hall crowd, how the venue is going to be able to sell those seats in five or ten years' time without an elevator.

² Although apparently this side made an appearance in the promotional lead-up to the gig.

³ It made me wonder: why toss out single drumsticks? Why not be cool about it and flip out pairs? Then you could at least be making a cool DIY point, like, "here's a pair of drumsticks, now go start a band!" Although as I mused on this, a Rick James-esque voice in my head replied: "Drumsticks? Why don't you toss out guitars, you rich movie-star motherfucker!"

⁴ Re-read and cast your mind over that for a moment — I saw a guy on stage who was a roommate with Hank Williams, and who inherited his band after Hank's death. It staggers the mind to think that history and legend are still that close to us!

⁵ In fact, the crowd overall was pretty good. Even during Willie's set, I was surprised that there weren't the usual types howling out requests. There was one dude behind me shouting "Hallelujah!" during "I'll Fly Away", but it kinda fit.

⁶ Musically, at least. In terms of repertoire, the set was mostly straight-up country hits delivery. While I would have loved to hear some tracks from his excellent Cindy Walker tribute, at least we didn't get much essaying of Willie's adult contempo side.

⁷ Playing in front of a giant Texas flag, the band behind Willie included piano, bass, harmonica, percussionist, and a drummer equipped, in the old Opry-style, with only a single snare drum.

⁸ It's also striking to me, in retrospect, that over the length of the set he played the bejesus out of that thing, but never once had to stop and tune. Contrasted to some musicians who seem to need to tinker at length between every song, this is quite a feat. This lack of dead space was probably one reason that the set felt so crammed-to-bursting with songs.