‘Country Superstars’ — tribute or not — sing up a storm

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Who thought this would be a good idea, tacking a young country singer working under his own name onto the end of a costumed tribute show?

I guess I did, for one.

Way back in 2001, “Country Superstars” mainstay Corrie Sachs was in a different show, doing her dead-on Reba McEntire impression in “Honky Tonk Angels.”

I wrote of that one, “In the old days, it was acceptable — a given, even — that capable but unknown singers would cover the hits of more famous performers. In the new Vegas, that no longer flies. The nonfamous performers are now required to wear a wig or costume.”

So, things can change. On paper anyway, it’s a good idea to shorten the durable “Country Superstars Tribute” to “Country Superstars,” and give the closing segment to a singer who might create a win-win for a show that may find the public tiring of the “Legends” format.

Cody Collins otherwise would have a tenuous claim to solo billing. The 28-year-old joined Lonestar for one album and several rounds of touring after singer Richie McDonald left in 2007, but was cut free when McDonald decided to come back.

At least by half, “Superstars” now seems more like it cuts to the chase and gets to the core of the singing that really counts. Tribute or “real,” these folks all sing up a storm, from Collins covering Train’s “Drops of Jupiter” to former hard-rocker Ron Keel now cutting loose as the solo Ronnie Dunn with nothing but a “Cowboy” tattoo in the way of a costume.

But the merger is clumsily handled, and in lieu of some more traction as a solo artist, Collins doesn’t bring enough punch to be so elevated.

Given his relative anonymity, he might work better as a host, opening the show and introducing the impersonators, instead of having the tributes end abruptly when he is introduced as “the hottest new Nashville recording star.”

The tributes are getting a little shticky, too. Sachs has been doing McEntire so long she’s taken it to cartoonish levels of eye-rolling and Okie hick twang. And speaking of cartoonish, there’s a whole Big & Rich segment. Jeff Fairchild as Big Kenny and (show producer) Leonard Quenneville as John Rich are almost too well-mannered to pull it off.

Some would say the real duo try to have it both ways, too, walking the line between frat party beer bongers and respectable songwriting. But if you’re going to play the fool, you’ve got to be the fool.

In his wig and top hat, Fairchild looks like all of us feel in those awkward moments when you show up at a Halloween party and then wonder what to do in your costume for the next few hours. And in this rocking segment, it’s more noticeable than in the rest of the show that the capable five-piece band is mixed down to a dull thump.

The Big & Rich bit at least pulls the show out of the ’80s and ’90s, acknowledging the modern era of suburban mall country that Collins brings to life in his own light-rocking originals such as “It Ain’t Wrong.”

If one of these songs catches fire, this whole concept will prove to be genius. In lieu of that, they might want to work a little harder to make this merger look like something they put a little more thought into.

Contact reporter Mike Weatherford at
mweatherford@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0288.