Tim McGraw: There’s a Stranger in this House

A couple weeks ago I attended my first Tim McGraw concert. I’ve always been a fan of his music. My wife and I danced to “It’s Your Love,” his duet with his wife Faith Hill, at our wedding in the Spring of ’97. While not one to keep completely current with the music scene, I do feel I’ve been aware of many of his hits, most recent for me (over the last several years), “Humble and Kind” and “Meanwhile, Back at Momma’s.” Those three songs, if you know them, tell you a little about the kind of music I enjoy. They’re not hard rock.

I had some takeaways from the concert, held at the Charleston (WV) Civic Center. There were moments I wasn’t surprised to see and understood were done to perpetuate his legend and entice the ladies. One of the most prominent? To whet our appetites just before he came on stage, silhouettes on the big screen of McGraw changing poises (I hope still shots) wearing his cowboy hat, skin-tight jeans, and (we saw later) plunging V-neck purple T-shirt to accentuate his finely cut physique – laughable (to a perhaps envious me). “He’s so hot,” was a reoccurring fan quote.

Others? He strapped on the guitar a few times, but didn’t really play it, nor did he much highlight or even introduce his band – quite un-team-like considering he once fought his label to have his band play on his records rather than studio help. The show’s sound was terrible. As much a fault of the venue, sure, except I believe if it were turned down to where it didn’t beat bodies it would sound a little better. When McGraw listened to the crowd singing a chorus, it put him on an island – the end of a long runway – doing nothing.

There was also a visual montage of his “Yellowstone” spinoff “1883” with booming orchestration, which I enjoyed, having watched the series. I wouldn’t have minded inclusion of all his movies, truly impressive if not prolific, but – and leading to my next point – why not share some insights? One little joke about working long hours with Sam Elliott on the great plains would have gone miles in my book.

Lastly, after 30 years of buying cds, I came away from the show feeling I didn’t know Tim McGraw any better than I did going in. He qualified it – “I’m used to my wife and daughters doing all the talking” – thus he gave himself a pass on any personal banter to his adoring fans. He doesn’t write the songs he sings. So I suppose setting up tunes with a little pre-story would be inauthentic. Still. Carly Pearce, his opening act, was the exact opposite. So personable, even inspirational. She shared. The simple story of writing “Every Little Thing.” Touching. Adding to the “lack of personability” thread, McGraw’s set list for the show was on the internet, much of the crowd seemed to know the lineup – no need to beg for an encore – and when the final chords of “Live Like You Were Dying” were played – without setup or mention of McGraw’s father, Tug, who died around the time of the blockbuster hit’s release – many fans hit the exits quickly, just as McGraw worked his way to the back of the stage.

Now don’t get me wrong, I loved seeing my daughters smiling and laughing arm-in-arm singing all his songs’ lyrics aloud. I was glad I experienced the “Standing Room Only” Tour. But his departure was as abrupt as an “Elvis has left the building” declaration, and his national treasure status a little tarnished.