Lyle Lovett and John Hiatt Hang Out at the State Theatre
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Let’s say you have a couple of friends, who happen to both be pretty mean guitarists and pretty good singers and songwriters to boot. For argument’s sake let’s also say you have a house that seats 400 (you’ll see why later). Now imagine that your two friends have dropped by to hang out, and have brought their guitars with them. Anticipating a great show, odds are good that you’re going to invite all your other friends to come over and enjoy the music.
That just about describes last Sunday’s show at the State Theatre. Lyle Lovett and John Hiatt, two of the brighter lights in not only the country music skies but also the musical firmament, dropped by to hang out, talk and stay for a couple hours just playing music. My guess is that these two friends showed up with their guitars and no set list. But, with the easy grace of natural performers, they decided to wing it and have fun. Lovett and Hiatt were extraordinarily amenable to suggestion, playing almost all the requests that were shouted from the audience. And there were quite a few requests; in fact, for an older audience they were a rather unruly bunch. But despite the demanding tone of the shouted song requests they received, the two men on stage did their best to please when they could (then again, when your friends ask you to play a song, you try your best to oblige).
Despite this scattershot approach there was some thematic unity in the song selections, focusing most heavily on family, crime and cars (though not all three at once). Hiatt began the show with “Tennessee Plates,” a story about bank robbers driving down to Graceland, and Lovett continued with “L.A. County” which is about driving, adultery and murder (in that order). On a happier, or at least less murderous note, Hiatt launched into “Your Dad Did,” dealing with the pain, monotony and beauty in everyday life. Other highlights of the evening were Hiatt’s “Georgia Rae,” a song written for his then-infant daughter, also an audience request, and “Thunderbird,” which was followed by a story detailing his youthful brush with automotive thievery.
The best songs of the evening, though, were the few songs they played together. The paucity of duets was surprising given that both men were onstage the entire show. But, it lends credence to my theory that the show was largely unplanned, as I suspect they didn’t practice very many songs together beforehand. There were a few collaborations, though. Together, they played, among others, Bonnie Raitt’s “Things Called Love,” and, in what was my favorite moment, they performed “(Ain’t No More) Cane on the Brazos,” a prison work song from the early 1900s, to end the evening (though I still prefer Rick Danko’s drunken version in Festival Express, Sunday night’s version came close in at a close second). In a nice touch, every song they sang together was punctuated by a handshake at its close — it was clear that these guys enjoyed playing together and their happiness carried into the crowd.
In between songs there was protracted, casual conversation covering topics as varied, and incongruous as the Dalai Lama, Lutherans and Elvis Presley. The leisurely pace of the show gave the impression — probably correctly — that one was watching two old friends who had no need to rush through the program. And while there were moments I wished they had sped things up (the Oscars were on), for almost the entire evening I was content to sit back and listen to them play and chat.