Claire Biddles 

Luke Combs review – country star ploughs the middle of the road

Chugging beers with the cowboy-hatted crowd, Combs is a skilled performer and musician, but the set is too slick and formulaic to be special
  
  

Southern everyman … Luke Combs performing in Belfast earlier this week.
Southern everyman … Luke Combs performing in Belfast earlier this week. Photograph: David Bergman, David Bergmam/David Bergman

Country superstar Luke Combs is in Glasgow, and – much like when Shania Twain played here a few weeks ago – the city’s Hydro arena is a sea of cowboy hats. As country music’s biggest crossover star, North Carolina-born, Nashville-based Combs arguably occupies the same position now as Twain did in the 1990s. After more than five years of mainstream success in the US, he’s recently cracked the UK, with two top 10 albums in the last year – Growin’ Up and Gettin’ Old – followed by this string of sold out UK and Irish arena dates.

If Combs has a contemporary peer, it’s his friend Ed Sheeran, who shares his down-to-earth persona and stripped-back approach. Even Combs’ origin story – he auditioned for The Voice but was told he wasn’t interesting enough for TV – plays to a desire for perceived authenticity in today’s pop scene. Striding in to 2019’s honky tonk love song Lovin’ on You, Combs is every inch the southern everyman in all-black jeans, shirt and trucker cap, swigging from a red cup like he’s been pulled up on stage for barroom karaoke. His seven-strong band emphasise the rockier edges of his sound on the rowdy Cold as You, the Eagles-lite of The Kind of Love We Make, and the full-on stomper 1, 2 Many, during which he slams a beer with a guy on the front row.

Ironically, despite Combs’ down-home appeal, his show is too slick to elevate the material beyond the middle of the road. Combs’ stylised country vocals seem effortlessly strong and his band are tight and precise, but there’s some crucial alchemy missing. The polished presentation also betrays the formulaic nature of his songwriting: when he plays the mid-tempo songs She Got the Best of Me and Hurricane back-to-back, it’s hard to tell the difference between them. The set’s ballad-heavy mid-section includes Beautiful Crazy, Combs’ somewhat saccharine tribute to his wife, during which the screens behind him show dozens of people wiping away tears. His note-perfect version of Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car reveals both his mass appeal and his limits: Combs is skilled at replicating emotional beats, but lacks the specificity of a great artist.

 

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