Concert Review :: Charley Crockett

Burton Cummings Theatre 

May 27th

Photo by Mike Thiessen

written by Myles Tiessen

Two glowing letter “C’s” hung suspended high in the air behind Charley Crockett throughout the course of his nearly two-hour show at the Burton Cummings Theatre on May 27th. He let us know who the star was. 

The self-proclaimed “son of Davy” is a showman. Full stop. From his elegantly tailored western wear, his shining white veneers, and backed by a tight band of unnamed sessional/ touring musicians and blazing lights that shifted hues and tones in all sorts of strange ways, Crockett plays his gig with the same pageantry of Las Vegas magician. 

Furthermore, it was evident through the set that he was there to do a job. He was professional, played the hits, and gave the crowd a show, but partly felt lacking of heart or soul. Maybe it was his missing energy (it was a Monday, to be fair), or maybe it was the fact that he played so many songs at such a similar tempo that the show bordered on marathon levels of endurance, but it felt transactional. But for a long-time touring musician of his notoriety, Crocett still brought the house down. 

It was the $10 Cowboy tour, so it’s only fitting that he opened the show with “$10 Cowboy.” The audience’s ecstasy was palpable from the first notes of that funky bass rhythm and guitar riff. In pretty typical fashion for country shows these days, the crowd was a mix of rural kids in their baseball hats, blue jeans, and pullover hoodies standing in contrast to the hip city folks wearing their best western shirts tucked nicely into their pants and thrifted cowboy hats. The ironic swapping of styles was no match for the universal uniter, which was, as always, smoking cigarettes in the front patio before and after the show. 

Crockett’s songs are short, simple, and as direct as an arrow flying through a windless sky. Lines like “In this life of trouble and regret/I ain’t done losing yet” or “I’m so lonesome I can barely breathe” speak to the universality of country music and why fans of all different backgrounds and styles can share in the communion of the genre. Although he was the star, Crockett’s brown leather jacket was so bright and clean you could almost see your own, or that of your disparate neighbour, in its reflection. “He was a $10 cowboy/Who looked a lot like you,” he sings on his latest album’s title track. 

He worked his way through mostly new songs and a few older ones before his six-piece ensemble left Crockett on stage alone. Bathed in blue light, his solo set proved his songs’ strength and ability to command a crowd all by himself. When the band returned to the stage after a few tracks, he gave it up to them for an extended instrumental. 

For the rest of the show, he went full rock star. He played an impressive number of excellent guitar solos, and even when he dropped the axe to sing, he gave into his best karaoke self, leaning and bending into every high and low note. 

The $10 cowboy played a $100 show. 

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