Why do St. Louisans drink? Why do they roll smoke? On Friday night at Hollywood Casino Amphitheatre, it was because Hank Williams, Jr. was in town, and country boys and outlaw women were ready to party with Bocephus. Those 25-ounce beer cans were flying off the shelves, but good luck spotting any Bud Lights among them due to the recent MAGA backlash, even though it seemed like a half-hearted protest against the hometown brewery since fans were still pounding Busch Light and Michelob Ultra by the gallon. A Hank, Jr. concert seemed like a setting in which some ugly political name-calling might show up, but thankfully, the “Let’s Go Brandon” set instead preferred the quiet commentary of American flag shirts and “Don’t Tread on Me” tattoos.
These were, for the most part, older fans, those who remember when Hank, Jr. songs were ubiquitous on the radio and in Pizza Hut jukeboxes back in the ’70s and ’80s. The venue was mostly full, now that turkey season is over, and Hank, Jr., himself no stranger to political controversy, touched on vague topical outrage just a time or two, mentioning, for instance, that when planning his current tour itinerary, he said, “Chicago: No. St. Louis: Yes,” presumably due to all of those intellectual elitists up in Chicago into whose eyes Hank would like to spit Beech-Nut. The down-to-earth St. Louis good ol’ boys on hand — like the bountifully bearded, overalls-wearing, 350-pound man next to me — roared his approval.
As a concert, Hank, Jr. brought the Hank, Jr., which is just what the crowd paid to see and what the rest of you were determined to avoid — the hat and shades, the beer-burp smile, the guitar strap on the wrong shoulder, the hits, the Hank, Sr. covers, the drinking songs, lots of spitting. Musically, the show was defined by loud blues-based country-rock, even when he was playing his daddy’s songs.
We got plenty of those, most often performed in medleys — “Move It On Over,” “Mind Your Own Business,” “There’s a Tear in My Beer” — and he played “Your Cheatin’ Heart” at the piano, which segued into Jerry Lee Lewis’ “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On.” He ended it with, first, his boot up on the keys in the style of “The Killer” and then his butt. Not a whole lot of shaking going on there, but, at age 74, it was a decent attempt.
He also played his father’s “Kaw-Liga” while sawing on the fiddle anchored down on his nipple. Speaking of the fiddle, opening act Old Crow Medicine Show was something of an odd pairing with Hank, Jr., but the band worked deliriously to win over the crowd with a Branson-on-cocaine schtick. By the end of the set, Old Crow frontman Ketch Secor had fiddled himself plumb out of horsehair.
“The Conversation” was another nod toward Hank, Sr., with Hank, Jr. supplying both Waylon Jennings’ and his own verses and strumming a Telecaster tricked out with Waylonesque embroidery. Bocephus’ guitars were mostly audible all night; he even did a little tapping at the end of “All My Rowdy Friends Are Coming Over Tonight,” a song that made everyone eager for football season, while Hank himself noted that most of his rowdy friends were now dead. And toward the end of the show, the band left Hank alone on stage with just his acoustic to perform a medley of hits, some great (“All My Rowdy Friends (Have Settled Down)”), some terrible (“Dinosaur”), some Johnny Cash (“I Walk the Line”).
During “A Country Boy Can Survive,” Hank changed the lyrics to assure the crowd that “America will survive,” which somehow seemed less likely just for his saying it. Then the Country Music Hall of Famer, for the finale, lightened the mood by reminding the crowd why he was such a hitmaker in his heyday: The boy was “Born to Boogie,” and if he got stoned and sang all night long, well, it’s a “Family Tradition.” On a cool night in June, it's a tradition that Hank, Jr. and his fans did their best to live out.
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