Review: Lyle Lovett and His Large Band at Bass Hall

Like clockwork, every year for the better part of the last decade, Lyle Lovett has performed at Bass Hall.

And, just as predictably, every year for the last two or three years, my friends and family have offered some variation on the question “So why are you going to see Lyle Lovett again?”

The answer is a bit of a paradox: The constancy of both Lovett’s regular Fort Worth stops and my friends and family’s bemusement at my religious attendance is justified by the guarantee that you never quite know what you’ll get when Lovett steps on stage — only that it will be fascinating and impeccably rendered.

Case in point: Sunday’s sold-out summer tour closer, featuring Lovett’s Large Band, began not under the stage lights, where more than a dozen musicians were merrily running through an instrumental before Lovett materialized at the microphone, but at the back of the room, where vocalist Francine Reed strolled in, belting out a rollicking rendition of Ida Cox’s 1924 scorcher Wild Women Don’t Have the Blues.

It was a wonderfully disorienting moment, and one serving a dual purpose — introducing the audience to the baker’s dozen of musicians on stage, and reminding them the show could unfold how they might least expect it.

The 57-year-old Lovett and his ace collaborators — among them, Russ Kunkel, Keith Sewell, Luke Bulla and several University of North Texas alums, including trumpeter Chad Willis, a member of UNT’s graduating class of 2014 — spent more than two hours showcasing their prodigious skills, blending gospel fervor with country’s endearing wit, the blues’ lusty urgency and folk’s spare, elegant beauty.

Opening with What Do You Do/The Glory of Love, Lovett wasted little time immersing the audience in extended musical interludes that simultaneously felt indulgent and poignant — the sound of a band locked in tight after a summer spent playing together nearly every night, entertaining the crowd even as, in its own way, it was saying so long for now.

The mandatory material was present and accounted for — L.A. County; I Will Rise Up and South Texas Girl were all aired out — and Lovett, whose self-titled debut album, marks its 30th anniversary next year, seemed particularly reflective as the night unfolded.

“Fort Worth feels like a hometown,” he observed at one point. “It’s a place that is wonderful, and the people are even better.”

Lovett thanked Ed Bass at length for the use of the now-defunct Caravan of Dreams as a rehearsal space and launching pad for national tours decades ago, while singling out a host of relatives, a professor he admired from Texas A&M and, in perhaps the night’s most moving gesture, dedicated This Old Porch — from the aforementioned 1986 record — to Robert Earl Keen’s daughter, Claire, who attends Texas Christian University and was in the audience Sunday.

It’s that sense of time’s easy, startling passage that makes Lovett’s yearly visits — Fort Worth gets an extra helping this year, as Lovett is scheduled to return to Bass Hall with John Hiatt Nov. 2 — all but mandatory.

Does the singer-songwriter and his peerless band more or less offer a subtle variation on what he’s done before? Sure.

But the thought of missing what might be different — the thrill of discovering well-worn songs anew, or finding your own connection to his catalog growing deeper — is, quite frankly, more than I’m willing to risk.

This story was originally published August 24, 2015 at 8:49 AM with the headline "Review: Lyle Lovett and His Large Band at Bass Hall."