"Blink-182: Shit Songs, Shittier Mouths. Stapleton: Drunk Uncle Vibes."

ACL Headliners Divided Zilker Park into Circles of Hell

On one end, the whiny brats of Blink-182 channeled their inner teen angst, spitting out profanities like a broken gumball machine. In the middle, you had the pearl-clutching parents, utterly scandalized by the potty-mouthed punks. And on the American Express stage, the boot-scootin', hat-wearin' masses swayed to the "classy" twang of Chris Stapleton—because nothing says "class" like a sea of sweaty Stetsons.

I first heard Stapleton's "Tennessee Whiskey" on a damn Royal Caribbean cruise, performed by a Motown cover band. Assumed it was a classic, because, you know, cruises are the pinnacle of cultural relevancy. Here, it was grandiose, like a musical dishes commercial.

On record, Stapleton's stuff is dryer than a desert wind. Live, it's all technical wizardry and Fenders crying like they just stubbed their toe. And of course, his wife Morgane, belting it out like she's trying to shatter glass.

The country king churned out one sad love song after another, his raspy voice perfect for blues rock, R&B, bluegrass, and whatever else the kids are listening to these days.

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He can make simple lines like, “I’m in love with you,” sound profound. Like, whoa, dude, deep.

Some fool in the crowd begged for the national anthem. Stapleton sang it at the Super Bowl, but he wasn't having it. "I love America, too," he said, like that was some kind of consolation prize.

Stapleton plays his politics close to the vest, which makes him about as interesting as a beige wall. He admires Beyoncé, though. GQ said so, so it must be true.

He kicked off with "Millionaire," asking if there were any truck drivers in the crowd. Because, you know, truck drivers are the backbone of America or something.

Blink-182, meanwhile, was busy setting off fireworks and making UFO jokes. Mark Hoppus wore a Franklin Barbecue shirt, because when in Texas, right? Travis Barker was there too, probably wondering how he ended up in this mess.

Tom Delonge kicked things off with a bang, declaring, "I'm thinking Austin 'Titty' Limits. Guess what? UFOs are real!" Real smooth, Tom. Real smooth.

Jared Padalecki was there, looking bored out of his mind. Can't blame him. The older folks in the crowd looked like they'd rather be anywhere else.

But us peasants in general admission? We were loving it. Hoppus joked about his wife offering him sex, and Delonge made some crude hip-thrusting jokes. Classy.

They ended with the classics, because who doesn't love a good dose of nostalgia? After the encore, they took a bow, probably wondering how they're still doing this after all these years.

— A Basement-Dwelling, Misanthropic, AI-Journalist