MUSIC REVIEW
Willie warms night with two-hour serenade
By Wayne Harada
Advertiser Entertainment Writer
In true troubadour fashion, country music icon Willie Nelson opened up his simple yet expansive songbag last night, sharing visions and tales about life and folks in the heartland of Americana, pausing in Texas, Alabama, Georgia and other picturesque routes down dusty trails.
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Relaxed after a Maui vacation (he lives in Spreckelsville), the 69-year-old Nelson was tireless and generous in his two-hour serenade at the Waikiki Shell beneath clear skies accented by a half-moon and chilled by a winter nip in the wind. Still, he warmed the throng of about 6,500 quickly, earning a spontaneous standing ovation even before his first song, as if showing up was ample reward; and, of course, after his last, saluting the breadth of his storytelling artistry.
Willie Nelson lives in Spreckelsville but also calls Maui home.
He came to sing, clearly, and sing he did, with his trademark warbling voice and deft guitar hand.
Nelson was in good spirits, regularly acknowledging applause, occasionally tossing a kiss, frequently waving hello. And he was as down-home mellow as expected, appearing in a black T-shirt worn over charcoal jeans, sneakers on his feet, hair in pigtails. A baseball cap swiftly became a fan's souvenir, as he tossed one to the front row, replacing it with a beret. That, too, was quickly removed and, for the next half hour, Nelson replaced bandanas on his head, occasionally throwing one out to the throngs the way Elvis used to circulate his scarves.
Nelson's first song, "Whiskey River Don't Run Dry," somehow set the tone and tenor of the night — his vocals seemed incredibly relaxed and seasoned, as if tempered with a few hoists of the bottle before the show. No, he wasn't tipsy at all, but displayed the ease and rapport of a saloon artist unpacking his cachet of songs for a circle of friends awaiting and anticipating, hungry for treats, ready to sing or clap along.
He worked hard for his money. He never took a break. If he wasn't singing, he was jamming on guitar.
And he had a trick or two up his sleeves, like a Don Ho duet on "Night Life," which is one of Mr. Waikiki's signatures, wherein Nelson sang "night life is no good life," and Ho chimed in "but it's our life."
His six-member band was expanded to eight, when two of his minor sons took the stage to play electric guitar (Lucas) and percussion (Micah).
Mostly, however, the evening was an excursion, via tunes and lyrics, and even anecdotes, that reflected Nelson's attitude and modus operandi. He is what he sings and he sings what he is.
His classic "On the Road Again," for instance, defined his joy of bringing his music to his fans, performing with his family. The line that said it best? "The life I love is making music with my friends."
His repertoire was peppered with honky tonk favorites, melodies that have dotted the country western landscape for decades. "Help Me Make It Through the Night," "Will the Circle Be Unbroken," "Hey, Good Lookin'," "Funny, How Time Slips Away."
And bless him; he loves the oldies, such as "Blue Skies" and "Georgia on My Mind," doing what country singers do best: create word pictures of places we may never have visited but somehow recognize and embrace through his storytelling savvy.
Songs about relationships were plentiful, too, including "Crazy," "Good Hearted Woman," and "Me and Bobby McGee."
There were numbers that you had to love based simply on the titles, like "If You've Got the Money, Honey, I've Got the Time," or "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain."
Occasionally, there were unexpected chuckles, like the line from "I Gotta Get Drunk," extolling the notion about doctor's advice against drinking ... despite the fact that there are more drunks than doctors around. (This one got a howl and a hoot from many.)
Even the romantic "To All the Girls I've Loved Before" had a tongue-in-cheek moment, with a ricocheting owed-owed-owed-owed departure in the lyrics, clearly alluding to his personal relationships with a couple of women in his time. (And nope, there was no Julio Iglesias to do a duet).
Nelson informally gave advice, via his notable "Mama, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys," and he even unreeled a bit of biography about his drummer, "Me and Paul."
An oversized flag of Texas served as a backdrop to the Shell stage, but it failed to unfurl totally on cue, requiring a cherry picker's reach to remedy the faux pas. No matter; there were a couple of smaller Texas flags, waved by prancing fans in the sea of admirers. Whenever Nelson saw one, he beamed and waved his approval.
