Issue Date: March 21, 2004
It's his day in the sun
His new album debuted at No. 1. His fans include Kid Rock, Uncle Kracker and President Bush.
Find out how old-school entertainer Kenny Chesney went from small-town boy to crossover king.
By Alanna Nash
It's not always about creative sweat in the studio. Chalk up nearly as much credit for Chesney's success to the work he does in the gym. He's cut out the pizza and hired a trainer. "He monitors everything I eat," the singer tells USA WEEKEND Magazine. Chesney also puts in regular two-hour workouts. Result: 40 pounds lost and one buff bod.
|
While in Washington last December to tape a Christmas special, Kenny Chesney dined with President Bush at the White House. As soon as Chesney walked in, the first fan stuck out his hand. "He said, 'I just want you to know I am proud of you,' " recalls the singer, who turns 36 next Friday. "It was a really surreal moment, because that was the same day they caught Saddam Hussein. I said, 'Well, sir, I'm proud of you.' "
Three years ago, such an accolade would have been unthinkable. Before the success of his 2002 album, the nearly quadruple-platinum "No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems," Chesney was a bit of an industry joke, thanks to his cheesy 1999 hit "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy."
Then, when nobody was looking, the Luttrell, Tenn., native built a rabid following. His record sales have climbed to nearly 11 million since his 1993 debut. Songs such as "Young" and "A Lot of Things Different" spoke to high school and college kids caught in uneasy coming-of-age transitions from the teen years to adulthood. In 2002, People magazine named him one of the sexiest men alive. Last year, "Pollstar" magazine named Chesney one of the top concert ticket sellers, not far behind the Dave Matthews Band, and he's the Academy of Country Music's reigning Top Male Vocalist.
On Feb. 3, his new album, "When the Sun Goes Down," shipped out more than 1 million copies, putting him in a league with Shania Twain, Alan Jackson, Faith Hill and Toby Keith. It sold 550,581 copies the first week, which immediately landed Chesney at No. 1 on "Billboard"'s top 200 overall and country album charts. The album's debut single, "There Goes My Life," hugged the top spot on the country singles chart for seven weeks, and it holds the record for the highest country debut on SoundScan's "Top Tracks" since the chart's inception last June.
"Kenny Chesney was the Rodney Dangerfield of Music Row," says Bill Friskics-Warren, co-author of "Heartaches by the Number," a guide to country's greatest singles. "There was a window for a dynamic entertainer to go out on the road and play to the crowd, and he did that tirelessly. He filled a void when some of the bigger stars were, for various reasons, on hiatus."
He deserves it, says country legend George Jones, whom Chesney calls his musical daddy. "Kenny's just a fine ol' entertainer. He's a superstar, but he's a wonderful kid, too. He never forgets people on their birthday, and he's no phony. That's part of why he appeals so much to the new generation of country, even though he loves the good traditional music, too."
Chesney owes much success to his broad interests in music. He's able to speak to both the country and the rock crowds because he was a teen who appreciated both Hank Williams Jr. and Van Halen.
"When they would come to Knoxville, I was the guy out there tailgating in the parking lot," he says. "I knew what it meant to be able to go to a concert like that and have a good time and forget about things."
He remains eclectic, teaming up with Michigan hip-hop rocker Uncle Kracker on the new album's title song, a blend of Jimmy Buffett hedonism and R&B. Kracker and Kid Rock were on the bill for his sold-out Knoxville stadium show last summer.
"He's very smart," Kracker says. "He's made a lot of right moves, and he's going to stick around awhile, because he isn't cookie-cutter. He just does whatever he wants to do."
Growing up in Luttrell, population 947 and the hometown of guitar legend Chet Atkins, Chesney was raised in the company of his mother, grandmother and aunt, with a father and stepfather weaving in and out of his life. It made him appreciate women's feelings, a quality in his songs that appeals to his female fan base. Women also noticed when the singer changed his look, losing 40 pounds by cutting out truck-stop food, and building his 5-foot-7 frame through daily workouts. "I had to change myself," Chesney says. "I was eatin' awful. I had a chubby face. I wore these big buckles, and, you know, I ain't from Texas. To do what I do onstage, I've got in shape."
Although he has traded in his cowboy duds for muscle shirts and a puka-shell necklace, one thing that didn't go was his trademark Resistol hats, which cover his thinning pate.
Some critics accuse Chesney of watering down Buffett's margarita-and-señorita sound, but the vibe is real; he owns a home in the Virgin Islands, where he sometimes tends bar at a local hangout and writes songs on his boat. Still, the heart of his appeal is country. If he runs the risk of overdoing the flip-flops (the new CD includes two "island" songs, building on several from the last record), he nonetheless has finally earned the respect of his peers. When he won the ACM award, he was too choked up to deliver his speech.
"I looked out and saw my heroes -- George Strait and Vince Gill and Alan Jackson -- whose songs I sang in the little honky-tonks coming up," Chesney says. "They were all giving me a thumbs-up, saying, 'Good job, Kenny. Congratulations.' Man, it was tough to talk. Someday I want to win another one so I can get to say the speech I had for that night."
Chances are he will, but, in his success, he has given up something he values: living the normal life when he heads home to Luttrell. Going to the mall is out because of all the fan fuss, and just shopping for groceries is getting more difficult. Still, Chesney says he isn't worried about the Elvis syndrome -- being a prisoner of success. "Surely to God that won't happen," he adds with a laugh. "If it did, I'd just get on my boat and float on the ocean. That's all Elvis needed -- a boat."
From chunky Chesney to hunky honey
Go to top
Chesney makes a difference
Kenny Chesney generally divides his charity contributions between St. Jude Children's Research Hospital and the Make-A-Wish Foundation. But he also has an unusual way of remembering some special fans who supported him in his earlier, scrappier days.
"When I first moved to Nashville, I played four hours a night at a grungy bar called the Turf, which was then a hangout for the homeless," he says. "At first it was a little spooky, but you look past a dirty shirt and you can find a helluva guy. I wouldn't trade that experience for anything. I made my last will and testament in 2002, and a couple of the regulars at the Turf are in it."
Photograph by Tony Baker for USA WEEKEND
|
