A strange, unexpected thing happened Friday at the United Center. Tim McGraw repeatedly returned to a once-hallowed concept that seldom surfaces at concerts — or increasingly, in contemporary political, social and cultural spheres. The endangered notion? Common decency, and what really matters in the measure of one’s life.
Sticking to core basics and refined techniques, the country music veteran exhibited an appealing relatability in both his songs and personality. McGraw didn’t come across as superior to any of the fans who packed the venue to the rafters. Flashing a permanent smile, the singer-guitarist adhered to a modest approach devoid of preachiness and most of the trite trappings associated with modern country. Namely, pop, glitz and pretense, along with the polish that coats his own studio work and that of many of his Nashville-based peers.
The combination of McGraw’s even-keeled nature, work ethic and fit physique almost made everything look too easy. He wore the same simple outfit — boots, black cowboy hat, skin-tight T-shirt, form-fitting blue jeans secured at the waist with a gold belt buckle — for the duration, untucking his top only at the conclusion of the 100-minute set. He walked or glided, never jogged or ran, and sang with one hand nonchalantly placed on his hip. The Louisiana native took his time delivering lyrics and phrasing lines to match the arrangements. Despite mounting his first arena tour in seven years, he chose to bypass pyrotechnics and fancy staging.
Which put the focus on him. Early in the performance, McGraw told the crowd it could ignore him since his backing band would be the best it would ever hear. Not quite, but the eight-piece ensemble proved very capable. It instilled a majority of songs with sturdy rock overtones and welcome traits — layered textures, Southern-styled grit, bluesy pep, fuller volume — that they lack on record. Prone to spreading his arms and dipping to one side like a kid who imagines he’s flying, McGraw fed off that energy and the walls of sound that emerged when the group’s instrumental configuration shifted to a five- or six-guitar front.
Risking excessive sentimentality, the singer also drew inspiration from his equally famous wife, singer Faith Hill, whose face cropped up on the backdrop screens during two songs. For all the well-meaning intent of seeing vintage footage of the happy couple amid “One Bad Habit,” McGraw registered his most powerful statement about family when speaking — not singing — and praising his spouse for helping raise “three independent, strong-willed, smart young women who have agency over themselves and their bodies.”
Other than growing older, seemingly little has changed for McGraw since he started dominating the country charts in the mid-’90s, married Hill and graduated to superstar status. His commercial and critical accomplishments — among them 47 No. 1 hits, three Grammy Awards and the honor of owning the most-played radio song (“Something Like That”) across all formats in the ‘00s — kept him in the mainstream conversation. Artists three decades removed from their initial breakthrough don’t usually manage that feat. While the 57-year-old now releases albums at a slightly slower clip, he continues to generate hits with reliable consistency.
Credit McGraw, too, for expanding his visibility by pursuing other entertainment ventures. In 2019, his name graced the covers of two best-selling books. His forays into acting run deeper. After a breakthrough role in “Friday Night Lights” (2004), McGraw appeared in numerous films and television shows, most notably as the character of James Dutton on “Yellowstone” and its “1883” spinoff. Earlier this month, Netflix announced that McGraw will star as a champion bull rider in an upcoming drama series.
On Friday, the singer mentioned his acting roles and showed a short highlight reel of “1883” as a precursor to “The Cowboy in Me.” The breadth of the tune, which McGraw revisited and stripped down for “Yellowstone,” conjured big-sky vistas and wide-open plains. He and his band transmitted similar rustic landscapes on the bluegrass-infused “Just to See You Smile,” which adopted a traditional train-song rhythm and transformed it into a dynamic that suited the relaxed pace of a top-down cruise down a two-lane desert road.
For McGraw and company, the quality of the ride, rather than the speed of the journey or how good you look going somewhere, assumed the greatest importance. Restrictive to an extent, his music would have benefitted from added variation and departures from its established comfort zone. Multiple songs drew from formulaic patterns. The dreamy “Watch the Wind Blow By” tread an adult-contemporary path that closely paralleled known ‘70s soul classics. “All I Want Is a Life” and “Shotgun Rider” sacrificed any potential spark to stock predictability.
Fortunately, in combination with his band’s steady support, McGraw’s pleasant, relatively smooth baritone and emotional sincerity largely compensated for compositional shortcomings. As did his indifference to perfection. Granted, McGraw reached highs in his faithful cover of “Tiny Dancer” that Elton John stopped attempting before he retired from the stage. Still, his voice tended to wavered or slip into overly nasal territory on occasion.
Those minor flaws actually served him well, particularly when narratives angled toward mature themes or contained specific details pertaining to decidedly human elements. Yes, McGraw understood rollicking fun. The rowdy “Truck Yeah” paired a thumping beat with an anthemic chorus. Sent up with vibrant fiddle-piano exchanges, “I Like It, I Love It” emitted roadhouse vibes. A bleacher-stomping and hand-clapping “Felt Good on My Lips” gushed with joyous release. Yet unlike the bro-country generation that succeeded him and commandeered the charts, McGraw realized lasting pleasure and purpose involve more than alcohol, parties and riding around with pretty girls in pickups.
Whether expressing concern over the distracted driving of a loved one (“Highway Don’t Care,” featuring piped-in backing vocals from Taylor Swift), reflecting on how to better himself (“Standing Room Only”) or embracing a carpe diem mentality in the face of approaching demise (“Live Like You Were Dying”), the singer zeroed in on fundamental principles that matter most: compassion, reason, respect, acceptance, forgiveness, responsibility. Or, in a word, decency.
As much as he yearned to pass himself off as a hellraiser, McGraw faced no choice other than to admit he was a “Real Good Man” — a conclusion further implied by the innocence of “Something Like That” and wisdom of “Red Ragtop.” Such goodness peaked on “Humble and Kind.” The minor-key power ballad found the singer dispensing the sort of golden-rule guidance children are taught early on as well as a few selfless tenets to practice as a grown-up.
In our current climate, we’d do well to heed the advice.
Setlist from the United Center May 31:
“Truck Yeah”
“Southern Voice”
“All I Want Is a Life”
“Tiny Dancer” (Elton John cover)
“Just to See You Smile”
“Over and Over” (Nelly cover) to “Shotgun Rider”
“One Bad Habit”
“Watch the Wind Blow By”
“Something Like That”
“Where the Green Grass Grows”
“Standing Room Only”
“Red Ragtop”
“Highway Don’t Care”
“I Like It, I Love It”
“Felt Good on My Lips”
“Real Good Man”
Encore
“The Cowboy in Me”
“Humble and Kind”
“Live Like You Were Dying”
