Sturgill Simpson Shreds ACL, While Everyone Else Sucks

Oh, you bet your sweet bippy Sturgill Simpson was the guitar god at ACL. His sidekick, slide-guitar whiz Laur Joamets, wasn't too shabby either.

While snowflake indie rockers like Bakar were singing karaoke and everyone else was pandering to this overhyped city with their "fashion," Simpson let his red Gretsch do the talking. Because, you know, that's what real musicians do.

Why the hell is the country guy the only one playing like a god-tier shredder at Zilker? Blame it on the festival morons who care more about trends than talent.

But hey, this is AC-freaking-L, a festival that was supposedly built on live guitars. Someone had to honor that legacy, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be anyone else.

Play the USA TODAY Daily Crossword Puzzle if you need a break from this crap.

Simpson outdid every monster of rock in the ACL canon. More emotion than Guns ‘N Roses, more churn than Pearl Jam, more experimental angst than Radiohead, and more thunder than Them Crooked Vultures. Yeah, I said it.

Not that I'm a huge Simpson fan, mind you. My editor stuck me on the "Westlake dad rock" beat because our lead music writer is too cool for this shit.

But Simpson wasn't just about the tunes; he had a way with words too. Every song was like a stern PSA. “When you play with the devil you get the horns” on “Brace for Impact” and “I don’t have to do a thing but sit around and wait to die” on “Living the Dream.” And let's not forget the slippery romance of “I Don’t Mind.”

I think about Dak Prescott a lot as a Cowboys fan. Especially tonight when the Boys are playing at the beer hall across the Honda stage. Dak elevated his game last year thanks to a living, shared Google doc playbook. Guess what—so did this hillbilly from Kentucky.

Eight albums in, Simpson's dabbled in everything from bluegrass to outlaw country to prog rock. It's all coalesced into distinctly American, drawl-rich, ballooning music.

Now get off my lawn so I can cut the damn grass.