POP MUSIC REVIEW : Cyrus Struts His Stuff--and Not Whole Lot More

There was a crack in the sky, and a bolt of blue light shot down, shattering the very foundations of great temples and yogurt shops. From the rubble strode a man--no, more than a man--who looked out, smolderingly, upon the shrieking masses and declared, “Behold, I am Cyrus, god of beef!”

OK, it didn’t happen exactly that way, but it was still clear from Billy Ray Cyrus’ show Friday night at the Pacific Amphitheatre that the guy has let his overnight fame go to his achy-breaky head just a bit.

His career has been absolutely mercurial. Fueled by the success of his “Achy Breaky Heart” single, Cyrus’ debut album, “Some Gave All,” went to No. 1 on Billboard’s pop chart two weeks after its release and has remained there for 17 weeks (a record for a debut album). Last week “Achy Breaky Heart” was named single of the year by the Country Music Assn.

A mere 3 1/2 months ago Cyrus played Santa Ana’s 250-seat Crazy Horse, while Friday he headlined the Pacific, half filling its 19,000 seats. It would have been understandable if the Kentucky-born singer had been unprepared to cope with the expanded scope of the concert stage and the attention of thousands of fans, but, rather, he took to it like a duck to the broiler. Cyrus posed, he flexed, he teased, he wiggled his butt, he posed a lot more. He even sang some, and he did it all with the ease of a jaded manipulator.

Maybe Cyrus is a swell guy who can’t help that he looks like some romance novel cover’s cross between George Michael and Steven Seagal or that he moves like a Chippendale’s dancer. (And maybe his publicist’s-dream story of being an ugly, chided child is the absolute truth, though if you think these new country artists aren’t schooled in what to tell interviewers, you’re absolutely wrong.) Maybe he’s just a simple singer from Flatwoods, Ky., who made it to the top with only his raw talent and the applied powers and promotional orchestrations of a multinational corporate media giant to help him.

But Friday Cyrus seemed to be a seasoned pro as he followed all the formulaic rules of the arena-rock biz, including the one that states the artist should earnestly insist, “We’re breaking all the rules tonight!”

With successes as sudden as Cyrus’ and only one album’s worth of material to draw from, there’s always the question of how the performer will fill a full concert. In his case it was easy. He and his band Sly Dog just threw in every concert cliche imaginable, including big look-at-me drum solos, wheedling guitar leads and the usual “Costa Mesa, are you ready to party?!” shouts.

He performed nearly everything from his “Some Gave All” album. That, of course, included that catchy Don Van Tress-penned ditty “Achy Breaky Heart,” a song that could easily have been composed by any preliterate, Nintendo-addled 4-year-old, not to suggest the standards of American culture are slipping.

Other songs included the bombastic “Never Thought I’d Fall in Love With You,” “Could’ve Been Me,” his hard-rockin’ cover of “These Boots Are Made for Walking” and the album’s “Some Gave All” title song about military men who have sacrificed for this country.

Cyrus was right in the middle of some deep pontificating about how much that song and our vets mean to him, saying, “If you remember anything from our show tonight . . . “ when he was interrupted by a “take it off!” squeal from the audience. Vietnam and the Gulf War momentarily seemed forgotten as he finished his sentence by saying, “I’m here for your partying pleasure” and launched into more pouting, slow-motion male-model poses.

He padded his set with Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “The Breeze,” “The Star-Spangled Banner” and Led Zep’s “Rock and Roll” and still only came up with 18 songs (including two renditions of “Achy Breaky Heart”) in his two-hour show. The rest was all primp and circumstance, with Cyrus repeatedly striking a portfolio of beefcake poses, going through aerobic dance steps and continually remarking on what a popular quadruple-platinum guy he is.

Judging by audience response, the emotional high point didn’t come during his hits or his patriotic endeavors, but when he stopped making teasing motions to take his long-sleeved shirt off and finally did, revealing--wow! hey! shriek!--a muscle T-shirt.

It was a major enterprise, preceded by his telling the crowd: “Do you know what my critics said would happen if I took my shirt off, how it would ruin my career? Let me say this (Cyrus’ voice swelled with emotion here): You people are the ones who made me No. 1 for five weeks, selling 8 million copies! If you want me to take my shirt off, I will for you!! I live my life for you people, man!!!”

Oh, shut up. Pardon me, you Billy Ray fans, but this is far and above the biggest bunch of egotistical drool I’ve ever heard on the concert stage. Even if Cyrus is secure in the knowledge that his pectorals are the finest gift to womankind since the rib, how much effort is it just to take your shirt off? It isn’t as if Cyrus was about to give his all for democracy or anything.

But then there was that concern about what we big, bad critics might think, a concern he voiced repeatedly in the show, saying he was breaking all our rules by playing so long, doffing his shirt and so on.

I think I speak for most critics when I say that we couldn’t give a hang if Cyrus takes his shirt off. He can wear Madonna’s panties and sing till lunchtime for all I care, if he’d only bother singing with some feeling, originality and conviction.

Opening act Dennis Robbins has penned some solid country hits, including the Garth Brooks’ No. 1 “Two of a Kind, Working on a Full House.” But in performance, Robbins suffers from some of the same lacks that Cyrus does, a lack of individuality in his voice and a reliance on arena-rock conventions in his music. The brightest spots in Robbins’ performance were his own version of “Two of a Kind”--in which he made up for a lack of vocal style by copying John Anderson’s--and the loud ballad “My Side of Town,” which had an inventive weave of guitar lines.