Travis Tritt with Lyndsey Highlander

Nashville is a mean town. In the early 1990s, Travis Tritt was the prototype for contemporary country, as capable of hardcore New Traditionalism (“The Whiskey Ain’t Workin’”) and weepy nouveau-country power ballads (“Anymore”) as he was populist barroom anthems (“Country Club”) and arena-sized rockers (“T-R-O-U-B-L-E”). He had that long mullet and fringe leather jacket that marked him as a little bit more rock ’n’ roll than all the other guys in cowboy hats who were all over the radio, but he sometimes sang like George Jones. Back in those days, it seemed like country was the future of pop, and the versatile Tritt seemed like he had nowhere to go but up, forever.
The ’00s have been tough for him, though. He’s adapted—he’s cut his hair and lost the jacket. But he hasn’t broken the country top 10 since 2002, and his last record was released on the now-defunct indie Category 5. But bad business for Tritt is good for his fans, at least in this case—one of the biggest country stars of the 1990s is back on the theater circuit. (Matthew Everett)