George Strait: Number 7 : Music Reviews : Rolling Stone

Album Reviews

Forget George Strait as the white-Stetsoned sheriff of country's current "new traditionalism." Think of him instead as Elvis Presley balladeering out of the Lone Star State, with hardly a sneer or demon in sight.

Since 1980, Strait's singles have ranged from fast honky-tonk ("Unwound") to fully realized and orchestrated ballads ("Marina Del Rey") to pre-Nashville Sound Western swing with a contemporary spin ("Right or Wrong"). Working with producer Jimmy Bowen in 1984, Strait reclaimed Texas's place in the C&W story with the brilliant "Does Fort Worth Ever Cross Your Mind." Also, with Bowen as his coproducer, he turned out his most consistent album – aside from 1985's livelier, no-deadwood Greatest Hits – in last year's Something Special, the rare kind of guarded new traditionalism that in the end shows no fear of music.

On #7, Strait's not in the moaning mood that gave the tunes on Something Special like "The Chair" and "Lefty's Gone" their emotional directness. Still, there are three blue-chip songs on this record that show Strait for what he plainly is: one of the two or three finest country singers of his generation. On "Nobody in His Right Mind Would've Left Her," Strait collects all the words of the title into runs of grace on the choruses before he explains, "Even my heart was smart enough to stay behind." The other midtempo contender is "It Ain't Cool to Be Crazy About You." Warning a woman that he's falling hard for her, Strait's in such inspired control that he sails off at the end of some lines without relinquishing any authority. But the in-the-pocket swing of "Stranger Things Have Happened" might beat both. With Strait hauling back and making his thoughtful cowhide tenor jump, the track crackles.

The record is rounded out by "You Still Get to Me," a subtle version of Bob Wills's "Deep Water," and a friendly take on Tex Ritter's "Cow Town." When music this smart, accessible and evocative doesn't make pop radio – like recent stuff by John Anderson and Rosanne Cash – then pop radio just loses. For the past couple of years, Strait has acted as though rock & roll never unwound. But he doesn't sacrifice much cool, not yet anyway. He's no sheriff; he's a swinger.