Why would I see Garth Brooks in Vegas?

Pretty good seats.

Looking back on the memory of last weekend, I'd have to say yee haw! My younger sister turned a certain age, and she wanted to do it Vegas. I have always been supportive of her, so my wife and I decided to go--as a selfless act of kindness, of course. Lucky for me I am so kind and selfless. I made a nice chunk of change at the craps table the first night we landed (thank you, Becca "the Bank" or "Money" Zumbiel, whichever you prefer). The next night, I ate a good meal with good company while sitting a table away from a celebrity whose career I respect (Rob Lowe of Tommy Boy, Wayne's World, West Wing, Parks and Rec). Yes, he is shorter in person. Those events were unexpected, but the best event of of the trip was planned: seeing the Garth Brooks show.

Garth Brooks in Vegas

The show was not at all what I expected. I thought we would sit in the back of the theater and hear him and his band play his biggest hits; then we would ride home, hoarse from singing along. I learned that instead of the back row, my sister had scored tickets in the fifth row, which was an entire story closer than I thought we would be. The show opened with a fifty year old white guy in a T-shirt, loose jeans, and non-Cowboy boots walking out on stage. A baseball cap instead of a cowboy hat sat upon his balding head. He didn't strut or have the slim figure that we remember from his album covers. The word "doughy" came to mind. He could have been mistaken for a roadie if there had been more equipment than a guitar, a stool, and a couple bottles of water on the stage.

He said hello and then explained that we are going to be taken on a tour of his musical influences. For the next hour and a half, he covered his history of musical appreciation, decade by decade, through anecdotes of his family life, a continuous line of jokes, and covers of his favorite artists' songs. When he sang, just him and his guitar, he would assume an awkward pigeon-toed posture, one that I associate with Dave Matthews, where the only graceful parts of his body appear to be his hands and his powerful voice. He sounded as good as ever--actually, he sounded better than I'd ever heard him because there was nothing but his guitar and his voice. Hearing such a strong and confident voice emanating from such an unassuming body was a little surprising.

As he explained his way through the 60's, 70's, and 80's, he played a few of his own songs, but mostly he covered his influences, some of which were too country for me to have heard, like Merle Haggard, George Jones, and Keith Whitley. He also covered some more mainstream ones like "Mrs. Robinson", "Sweet Baby James", "American Pie", and "Sitting by the Dock of the Bay". I'd take a CD of just him covering other songs (which to be fair, a few of his hits are). He told stories of when he met one his idols, James Taylor, and how he came to cover Bob Dylan's "To Make You Feel My Love" for the movie Hope Floats.

His wife, Trisha Yearwood, another huge country name, joined him on the stage, which was a big treat for my older sister. They sang a few songs before he got to the 90's when he really got down to playing his own music. Of course, he didn't have time to play enough for the crowd, but he encored with "The Dance", "Piano Man", and "Friends in Low Places". My only complaint is that we didn't get to hear a single song in its entirety, but the show may have lasted forever if that had happened. Plus, he mentioned that once his oldest left for college, he may be starting a tour again, which I would happily pay to see.

The Appeal of Country Music

I have to admit that I understand why people don't understand or appreciate country music. I used to sort of hate it myself. I still wouldn't call myself a true country music listener, and I'm certain any cowboy would call me a city slicker. I also understand that some would consider Garth a little too close to pop to call him country. For me, Garth helped bridge the gap between palatable pop and the more country music of Johnny Cash and Waylon Jennings. By listening to some older stuff, a person learns that country has a certain appeal, which I will get to in a bit. I also get that recent country can be cloying. Like hip hop, it has strayed a bit from its roots of singing about hard times and hard love (though the self-aggrandizement can sometimes be funny--"Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy"). Even some of Garth's stuff wanders into saccharine. So yes, I understand that it can sometimes be hard for a person to stomach country as a genre.

However, country thrives on simple story telling that I enjoy. My favorite songs of Garth's have obvious stories that are the backdrop of universal themes--well, usually, it's the theme of love or loss or love lost, but these are concepts we all understand to the core. The story is always easy to grasp, which is difficult to accomplish in three minutes. Look at how much time you've already wasted reading to this point in this post. Even though Garth didn't write a lot of his stuff, his song writers embrace succinct country story telling.

Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots
And ruined your black tie affair.
The last one to know, the last one to show,
I was the last one you thought you'd see there.

This first verse from "Friends in Low Places" paints a quick picture: people from different backgrounds, the singer is "low class", the setting is a fancy dinner, the singer is beyond fashionably late, and he's crashing. Not a bad set up for some drama in under forty words. I'm a bit jealous. And it rhymes!

Every light is burnin' in a house across town.
She's pacin' by the telephone in her faded flannel gown.
Askin' for a miracle, hopin' she's not right
Prayin' it's the weather that's kept him out all night.


She's waitin' by the window when he pulls into the drive.
She rushes out to hold him, thankful he's a live.
But on the wind and rain, a strange new perfume blows.
And the lightin' flashes in her eyes, and he knows that she knows.


She runs back down the hallway to the bedroom door.
She reaches for a pistol kept in the dresser drawer.
Tells the lady in the mirror he won't do this again.
Cause tonight will be the last time she'll wonder where's he been.

These verses from "The Thunder Rolls" again quickly paint a picture, clue the listener into the mixed emotions the woman is feeling, portend that country theme of broken hearts, and then unfurl the drama without directly saying, "she shot him". Garth actually co-wrote this one. And it rhymes, again!

Granted not all country music paints these simple stories and country doesn't have a monopoly on good story telling in its songs. Remember "Regulators"? Eminem can also tell a mean story in his own misogynistic way ("Lose Yourself"). I'm sure you can think of many a song that tells a tight story.

The other appealing aspect of country is the nostalgia it elicits. I imagine that most people who like Garth think of some past love interest when they hear "The Dance"; I also have the same thing when I hear "Callin' Baton Rouge". I don't yearn for those people, but I am reminded of those times when emotion was high because of life's simplicity. Of course, country is not the only genre that elicits nostalgia, but its themes are universal and its stories are right on the surface, making it easy to access those memories of times past. Even if you don't love country, you don't have to wear a Stetson to understand the pictures it paints.

My Western Roots

Most people seemed surprised when they heard I was going to see Garth, and each time I was a little surprised that they were surprised. Yes, I'm a bit of a city slicker, having lived in San Jose, Seoul, London, San Diego, and Boston. I really do like my cities and the anonymity they provide when walking their streets.

On the other hand, I lived the first six years of my life in a small town in Colorado. During every summer of my childhood, I spent at least a week of it in Nebraska, where we would see a cowboy show and drive through the arid, yucca-filled landscape that nurtured the myth of the West. My aunt raises cattle and takes a leg of the Pony Express ride every year. I think my dad likes Westerns more than sports, and I've learned to really love the genre as well. My dad's dad was born in Kansas, where names like Wild Bill Hickok, Buffalo Bill Cody, and Wyatt Earp spent some time. I grew up playing with toy guns, wishing I had cowboy boots, and trying unsuccessfully to lasso stuff. I also spent a lot of time where my mother grew up, at another icon of the West: the farmstead. My mom also rode horses, which she still does with my aunt today at the age of . . . well, I wouldn't tell the whole world that. Wouldn't be polite, would it, ma'am? Indiana isn't exactly the Wild West, but the land is flat, the sky is big, and the town where my mom spent her youth makes Deadwood look like a metropolis.

Though my parents didn't listen to a lot of country music, my sisters did, perhaps because they identified more with what the romance of the West than I did. Among their Wilson Phillips and Sinead O'Connor tapes were sprinkled Randy Travis, Garth Brooks, and Reba McEntire. Though I never bothered to listen to the tapes, I couldn't escape the country stations when riding in the car with them and later with my younger sister. I couldn't understand why they liked it so much when I was a teen, much like I didn't understand my dad's draw to Westerns. But I get it now.

In high school, I wrote an essay about the myth of the West and how it was built. It occurred to me only recently that perhaps I was drawn to such a report topic because of my familiarity with it. Similarly, perhaps I chose a summer project on a Native American reservation because I had grown up playing cowboys and Indians. So even though I apparently hide it well/completely, I can't deny my country roots and how they have shaped me. I am told I have a strong moral code. I am told I am independent and sometimes polite. I have seen a horse in person and a cow made out of butter. I'm no cowboy, but I spent a good portion of my childhood where they used to roam. So, as a sort-of country kid who grew up in cities, it seems natural that I would want to see Garth Brooks in Vegas.