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Kenny Chesney is a perfect start to a lost weekend in Blossom performance
By: Chuck Yarborough, The Plain Dealer
 Sometimes, life is its own metaphor for life.
Nearly four hours of copious note-taking at Blossom Music Center Thursday night, where to the delight of a near sellout crowd of more than 20,000,
Kenny Chesney and his Goin' Coastal Tour stopped in, all went for naught. Somewhere between the seats and the parking lot, a pad full of furiously scribbled comments, observations and surely Pulitzer-worthy bon mots went missing.
Kind of like two of those hours spent listening to Chesney.
So details like he was either unable or unwilling to hit the high hiccup “Yoo-hoo'' lyric in “Summertime,'' have to be retrieved the old-fashioned way – by actually recalling them. And it's not a pleasant task.
Look, Kenny Chesney is one of the best entertainers in country music. There is no doubt of that. The guy positively captivates a crowd. But it's all about charisma, and not about talent.
Oh, it's not that he doesn't have it. You don't compile a discography like his six No. 1 albums – two short of Garth Brooks' record eight – on luck and a producer's adroit use of Pro Tools.
But that begs the question: If you have a catalog like that, why spend a third of your night covering other people's songs? Sure, his take of “You Never Even Called Me By My Name,'' originally made famous by Akron's own David Allan Coe, drew a great response. But guess what? It gets that response in bars, too, when average to mediocre bands cover it. The reaction is to the song, not the performance. In this case, that was a substandard pairing from Chesney and his “When the Sun Goes Down'' partner (and opening act) Uncle Kracker.
And “Midnight Rider'' is a fantastic tune. The Allman Brothers absolutely killed it on their debut album in 1969. But was it worth skipping his own hit, “Old Blue Chair,'' to include it? And it's possible to totally dig having a member of your crew – Mark Tamburino – break out the Violent Femmes' “Blister in the Sun,'' but at the expense of omitting “The Good Stuff?'' Which sort of fits because the audience didn't get the vocal good stuff , either. The problem? An overproduced, overmiked over-over band. Chesney has a decent but thin voice, with a limited range. Nothing wrong with that. But what's wrong is not being able to hear him. Mikes work best when you sing into them – his mike technique is awful, or he's afraid (justifiably, at least on one song Thursday night) that he won't match the pitch. Or that your band will drown you out. Half the time, at least from the pavilion seats, his voice bordered on inaudible.
Which is why the best part of the show was when he picked up an acoustic guitar and sang. No band, just him and his voice. He really CAN sing, but Shure can't make enough mikes for his voice to overcome four guitars, a steel, a bass, keys and a drums. Shoot, Pavarotti would struggle.
What kept the show from being a total wash – and the only reason to wish to have that notebook back – was the performance of opener Billy Currington. The most laid-back man in country music gave a spot-on performance with pitch-perfect vocals, accentuated by a stage presence that was ambitious without being obnoxious. Billy Currington had the Blossom Music Center on its feet. Make no mistake: He's not some somnambulant country Perry Como. Currington has plenty of uptempo songs. It's just that his voice, his lyrics, his phrasing on songs like “Good Directions'' and “People Are Crazy'' put the aw in drawl.
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