Hurdling the tabloid news of Britney’s marriage and Janet’s nipplegate, 57-year-old Jimmy Buffett pulled off the year’s biggest music surprise six weeks ago when his new record debuted at No. 1. Loaded with guest appearances by country superstars, “License to Chill” served as a wake-up call to the world that the artist many dismissed as a cult-favorite has-been is more popular now than he has been at any other time in his 35-year career.
In selling his no-work, no-worries pirate’s life fantasy to the masses, Buffett has become a cultural phenomenon. His entrepreneurial savvy gives him more in common with stock-market tycoon Warren Buffett (no relation) than with his musical peers, to the point that his success makes rock capitalists Kiss, the Grateful Dead and the Rolling Stones look like business flunkies.
But above everything else, the Mississippi native is among a dying breed of performers whose appearances cause promoters to drool and fans to take time off from their jobs. In what’s been a dismal summer for the concert industry, Buffett is set to accomplish what was impossible even for touring magnet Dave Matthews: two sold-out nights at Tweeter Center, a jumbo venue that most big-name artists can’t fill for a single show.
Outfitted in grass skirts, bikinis, leis, Hawaiian shirts and floppy hats, Buffett followers (affectionately known as Parrot Heads) on Thursday afternoon turned the arena’s sprawling parking lot into a tailgating paradise where outdoor grills, mini-bars, kiddie pools, straw huts, inflatable palm trees and lawn chairs competed for space with sail-topped vans. As to why they keep flocking to see a musician who hasn’t altered his show or music in decades, fans consistently cited the same reasons: lifestyle, atmosphere and escapism.
Many veteran Parrot Heads shared the perspective of John Grygiel, who got hooked 12 years ago and came equipped with tiki torches that allowed his group to be spotted from a distance. He takes his vacation when “Buffett comes to turn the town” so he can “get away from everything for a day.” Speaking beside a homemade shark fin that protruded from the bed of his pickup truck, Keith Krokusz praised the scene’s peace and tranquility, noting that Buffett provides his “escapist window on the world for two days a year.” Many got into the Caribbean spirit in a manner similar to Champaign residents Lisa and Gary Gonzini, who, between sipping on their beverages, offered passersby free tequila and whose goal was “to promote people having a good time and meet new friends.”
Onstage, Buffett held up his end of the bargain Thursday night (the second show is Saturday night) by delivering on his promise to “extend the summer as much as possible through song and dance.” Barefoot and smiling, he eagerly hosted the traveling Mardi Gras party and supplied a soundtrack that awoke the inner Big Lebowski in everyone.
Playing for the first time in over a month, Buffett was in fine form, his voice barely affected by the ravages of time and preserved by his decision to swear off the hard-partying lifestyle while on the road. His conversational singing didn’t require him to hit many high notes, and, while many vocalists flub or forget a lyric, his sole error was a false start that caused the crowd to laugh along with him. Though he doesn’t jump or move as much as he did a decade ago, Buffett had a palm-tree sway in sync with the music’s light rhythms.
After setting a laid-back mood with a solo “Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes,” he was joined by the 13-piece Coral Reefer Band and two female dancers. Together they coasted through 28 songs that most of the crowd knew by heart, including a number of well-chosen covers. Buffett turned Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl” into a Polynesian singalong, watered down Hank Williams’ “Hey Good Lookin’,” tangoed to the Dead’s “Scarlet Begonias” and framed his staple “Why Don’t We Get Drunk” with Prince’s “Purple Rain.” He spiced lyrics with fruity rhymes and references to local hangouts such as Demon Dogs and Michigan Avenue.
Breezy melodies, hang-loose grooves, Jamaican flavors and ringing steel drum percussion salted the singer’s tropical themes and wishful storytelling, while the evening’s muggy air brought the feel of the Florida Keys to the Midwest. Despite the band’s size and potential reach, the music rarely ventured out of its calypso-tinged country-pop comfort zone, though Buffett applied folk sentimentality to “Come Monday” and squealing slide guitar to a romping “Piece of Work.” Special guest and country singer Martina McBride lent her strong pipes to “Trip Around the Sun,” and guitarist Mac McAnally took a few vocal turns that helped alter the pace.
By night’s end, Buffett’s affable charm, goofy humor and mild drawl had the entire audience hoisting beers to the sky, shouting out the names of cheeseburger condiments and playfully dancing like sharks. He closed out the two-set, 140-minute happy hour with an acoustic rendition of Chicagoan Steve Goodman’s “Banana Republics,” undoubtedly realizing his fans’ parallels to the tale’s expatriate Americans who seek refuge on rum-soaked islands while “trying to cure what is ailing/from living in the land of the free.”
