A night out with Radney

I’m not a complicated man.

You can get me to part with my money in a hurry if you follow this simple formula: ‘90s country music star + Texas-born singer/songwriter + intimate venue = sale. It’s a pretty straightforward algorithm, and the internet has figured me out.

Back in the late spring, Spotify sent me one of those unsolicited emails letting me know Radney Foster, one of my all-time favorites, was going to be performing at Eddie’s Attic in Decatur later in the summer. As it turned out, the timing could not have been better.

It’s been a rough few weeks with Carla’s mama in the hospital. We held our breath, and fortunately, we were able to keep this appointment with our friends, Heather and Jared. As it turned out, they really needed a night out, too.

I’ve seen a few shows at Eddie’s Attic, and I have grown to really appreciate the venue. I’m no acoustics expert so I can’t vouch for the sound, but I do like singer/songwriters playing guitars without overpowering drums in a setting where I can actually see the performers’ faces and understand their lyrics.

Virtues of the venue aside, I would have appreciated an opportunity to see Radney Foster in a parking lot. I don’t have a written-down bucket list of performers I’d like to see live, but if I did, he would have been near the top. (Especially since I got to see my 90’s country sweetheart Suzy Boggus last summer.) His debut album as a solo act, “Del Rio, TX 1959,” coincided perfectly with my descent/ascent into country music, and the unforgettable guitar riff that opens “Just Call Me Lonesome” is a audio time machine that takes me back to the early ‘90s in Macon, Ga., when I was just striking out on my own after college.

(I also loved his follow up album, Labor of Love. It wasn’t as commercially successful, but I think the songs are just as compelling and have really stuck with me.)

Foster and accompanying Americana/bluegrass instrumentalist Barry Waldrep opened their set with “Just Call Me Lonesome,” and for the next two hours, I had no problems. My mind was free to wander over the West Texas terrain, recall my journey to adulthood, toy with wordsmithing and become inspired all over again to get back to work on my book.

I enjoyed a few songs that were new to me. He sang “Angel Flight,” “For You To See the Stars,” “Raining on Sunday,” a song Keith Urban took to No. 3 on the country charts in 2003, and “A Real Fine Place to Start,” which Sarah Evans made a hit in 2005. When he did “Sycamore Creek” off his latest album, I committed to spending more time with his collection of stories and accompanying recording, titled “For You To See the Stars.” 

Lots of folks have recorded Foster’s songs, but I find particular pleasure in hearing him sing them. There’s a richness and quality to Foster’s voice that is grounded in experience and flavored with just enough twang to penetrate the noise in my brain and scale the fence around my emotions to connect with my heart.

Carla apparently found Foster as attractive and appealing as I had Suzy Bogguss last summer. She commented several times how cute she thought he was. I think it’s OK for us to have our ‘90s country crushes. It certainly feels more age appropriate than swooning over the current crop of “bro country” and midriff-baring bachelorette-soundtrack acts topping the country charts these days.

The moment in the show that stopped me in my tracks came near the end of the set when he told the story of the night he woke his parents up in the middle of the night to say he wasn’t going back to college and was moving to Nashville to pursue a career as a singer/songwriter instead. Now that ship has long sailed for me, but he finished the tale with the admonition to “follow your dreams and work hard.” Simple but profound advice for creatives of any age. If I ever get my book published, it’ll be because of encouragement like Foster’s.

He and Waldrep finished the show with “Nobody Wins,” his song that reached No. 2 on the charts off of the “Del Rio, TX 1959” album. The high notes were a little too high in places for Foster these days, but he reached for them and belted out that final line with vigor usually found in younger men.

And as I sang along with Radney and the Eddie’s Attic crowd, I felt like I won, my spirits lifted during a dark time because someone had the courage to follow his dreams and work hard.