If you don’t know who Whitey Morgan is, don’t feel bad, I didn’t either – and you should get to know him.
It’s a random Friday night in July and somehow nothing is going on. My Mariners are playing like dog shit in Denver and when the text from a friend comes in asking if I want to meet up at the Whitey Morgan concert, I figure why the hell not? A free ticket to go see some music my buddy says is really good is hard to pass up. Little did I know that the show would be very entertaining and make me wonder how I had never heard of this artist before.
Unlike the pretty-boy pop nonsense masquerading as country on the airwaves today, this was a return to the “outlaw country” or “hillbilly stomp” that is more my scene. If I may be lazy – and I can, its my blog- Whitey is pretty much a less talented (but still quite good), poor man’s Chris Stapleton. And ol’ Whitey’s band (complete with killer pedal steel work) was up to the challenge, sounding like a vintage honky tonk bar band while also showing some classical chops. Whitey (not his real name, if that wasn’t obvious) can pen a mean tune also, as we were treated to both raucous songs about drinking and debauchery as well as songs that told interesting stories and even gave some life lessons.
This really was everything you would want a country-rock show to be, and although I showed up four songs in, it didn’t take long to settle into the groove with the very enthusiastic audience. Oh, and the Valvoline oil drum that held their beers was a nice touch also, as it moved around to the basslines throughout the evening.
No setlist, as I had no idea who this guy was before I walked in…