Oh, Look Who Showed Up to School Everyone at ACL

Oh right, Sturgill Simpson is the best guitar player at ACL. Ditto his sidekick, slide-guitar whisperer Laur Joamets.

The country guys rolled up and absolutely destroyed the festival Sunday night at Zilker. It was a no-frills, all-skill smackdown of epic proportions. Even his cover of ‘80s hit “The Promise” had twinkling keys and slide solos that boiled with emotion.

While the "buzzy" indie rock stars like Bakar were singing karaoke with no band, and everyone else was busy pandering to this overhyped city with their fashion choices, Simpson just let his red Gretsch do the talking.

But why is the country guy the only one at Zilker playing the god-tier shredder role? Blame it on evolving tastes and festival programmers who are too busy chasing clout and viral moments by scouting what’s trending.

This is AC frickin’ L, a festival and brand built on live guitars. Someone needed to honor that legacy from 15 years ago, like the relentless noodling by the Raconteurs.

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In the pantheon of ACL rock legends, Simpson had more sweet emotion than Guns ‘N Roses; more heads-down churn than Pearl Jam; more experimental angst than Radiohead; and more thunder than that uncool but impressive Them Crooked Vultures supergroup.

And I’m not even a big Simpson fan. My editor puts me on the “Westlake dad rock” beat because our lead music staff writer is frankly too cool for this.

But Simpson was purposeful in his lyrics. A true storyteller.

Every song was a stern PSA like, “When you play with the devil you get the horns” on “Brace for Impact.” Or “I don’t have to do a thing but sit around and wait to die” on “Living the Dream.” Or the slippery romance of “I Don’t Mind” where he goes, “You drift in and out of my dreams now—like a ship out at sea in a storm.”

As a Cowboys fan, I think a lot about Dak Prescott. More tonight when the Boys are on at the beer hall across the Honda stage. He elevated his game last year because his playbook was like a living, shared Google doc. Always improving thanks to consistency, timing, experience, and collaboration. Ditto this Jackson, Kentucky songwriter.

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

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