POP MUSIC REVIEW : McEntire’s Vocal Magic

There wasn’t much that Reba McEntire needed to do to make Friday night’s Irvine Meadows Amphitheatre performance one of the best country shows of the year. Opener Vince Gill’s powerful set had already pretty well cinched that. But she sent the evening spiraling ever higher with an 80-minute workout of her remarkable voice.

It was McEntire’s first local appearance since the deaths of her manager and seven of her band members in a March 16 plane crash after a show in San Diego. McEntire announced at the time that she was going to continue touring, that she felt it was the best way to carry on the memories of her departed friends.

On Friday, McEntire and her new band took “the show must go on” as a maxim, never once referring to the tragedy. While that doubtless must be more bearable than again calling up the pain in front of thousands--and certainly is preferable to institutionalizing that pain in a neat, nightly package--ignoring it also seemed unnatural. But then, much of her show is typically at odds with her artistry.

Striking Diana Ross-grade poses while backlit by lasers atop a majestic stairway isn’t always the best way to assert the common humanity and shared travails that are at the heart of country music. It’s a further impediment that McEntire’s recent crossover material is generally about as country as a Daihatsu.

Her expressive wonder of a voice, however, seems able to illuminate even the dimmest song and melt the Vegas-like trappings. McEntire may have the busiest mouth in the business, reshaping her vocal chamber with nearly every syllable to make each word she sings a beautifully sculpted statement.

That effort paid off in her brilliant ruminative recasting of the Everly Brothers’ “Cathy’s Clown,” which wrested the tune away from the otherwise unforgettable harmonies of the Everlys. Her vocals were no less glowing on “Rumor Has It,” “Walk On,” “Somebody Should Leave” and the chilling moment of truth expressed in her show-closing “You Lie.”

Don’t be too surprised if Gill soon winds up topping the pop chart (as Garth Brooks presently is). In his sterling but too-brief 10-song set, his plaintive, high tenor voice drew frequent female screams and a standing ovation.

On record, Gill’s efforts sometimes fall prey to the my-hair’s-too-nice-to-touch sterility of the Nashville studio scene, but on stage he’s unstoppable, with that persuasive voice, a burning guitar prowess and a hot band. Gill’s vocals and songs remind one a bit of Rodney Crowell, though his songs aren’t yet as personal and palpable as Crowell’s best efforts. Though without the precise inflections and shadings of McEntire’s voice, Gill’s direct entreaties are nearly as gripping.