I never really got around to posting about Jimmy Buffett dying. 

Suzanne Sommers’s death merited a full analysis of seven seasons of farcical entertainment within a matter of weeks.

But the musician who’s been on my radio the most over the past fifteen years got little more than a snide comment on my year-end concert review about maybe I shouldn’t have waited for his next tour to take Daughter to see him.

The morning he died, we were getting ready for Daughter’s first softball tournament. We had to be up and out of the house by 6:30 am, which is no easy feat. As we’re fumbling out the door, bleary eyed, I checked my phone and let out an “Oh, shit.”

Not an angry “Oh Shit” or, more likely for me, an I-forgot-something or a That-field-is-half-an-hour-away-and-we’re-supposed-to-be-there-in-ten-minutes “Oh Shit.” More like a bad-news-that-isn’t-too-shocking-but-still-a-gut-punch “Oh Shit.” You know the kind. 

I alerted Wife and Daughter and we were on our way to softball. Didn’t really have a chance to process it. 

Radio Margaritaville was, naturally, already on in my car. They were playing some Jimmy ballad , and when in ended, the somber DJ was barely holding it together. Not sure how many times they had to preface each music break with the “If you haven’t heard” announcement, but I assume it didn’t get any easier. Hell, they probably had it worse than any of us. I just lost a guy I’ve seen in concert a few times. For all they knew, the radio station they DJ’d for might be on the verge of belly up.

Now, over a year later, Radio Margaritaville seems to be doing fine. I think they went a whole month before playing any non-Jimmy Buffett songs, but by now they’ve found their stride. They’ve expanded the number of “Buffett Buffets,” where they play a full hour of Jimmy songs, from two to three a day. And it’s not like the concerts they played when he was alive were live, anyway.

Looking back, it’s amazing to realize how bad he was there at the end, but how he never let any of his fans knew. Gotta keep up those appearances as the guy who’s never bogged down by life. Even though we all knew he gave up drinking years ago, changes in attitude means he ain’t got no time for cancer.

Those close to him knew. At a concert the night after Jimmy died, Mac McAnaly said “Last weekend, I said goodbye to my friend.” 

So yeah, kinda get the feeling that Equal Strains on all Parts was always intended to be released posthumously. “Bubbles Up” sure sounds like something he wrote for the purpose of getting his fans through the bad news. I thought it was the perfect Jimmy Buffett send-off. 

Until I heard another one. 

Some aspects of being a parrothead are the same as they were before. Boat drinks, Aloha shirts, and the like. The restaurants and resorts and cruise line aren’t going anywhere. Jimmy was as much lifestyle as he was music. And as for that music, it’s all still there.

Cover bands feel a little weird now. It’s odd that a tribute band feels more authentic when the artist is still alive. Like, if I can see the actual act, why should there be covers? But for some reason, a Neil Diamond tribute feels more natural than a Frank Sinatra one. A guy who dresses up like Elton John is an homage. A guy who dresses up like Freddy Mercury or Jimi Hendrix is trying too hard.

However, while cover bands might become more and more verboten, there seem to be two musical acts vying for the parrot-sized hole in the industry. And maybe I don’t speak for the entirety of Fruitcake Nation, but one of them is light years ahead of the other. 

The two artists are Kenny Chesney and Zac Brown. Toby Keith might’ve been an interesting third option except that he died before Jimmy.

One humungous caveat to the entire diatribe I’m about to go on is that I’m not much of a country music fan. Both of these artists originated from that realm, as did Jimmy at the start, and maybe I just “don’t get” one of them because he’s still more country than… than… whatever the hell Jimmy was.

It’s not beach music, because that’s a certain sound from the 1960s. It’s not party music or island music because, again, they already kinda bring up other existing genres.

I’ll just call it Parrot music.

Okay, so what’s Kenny Chesney’s claim to the Parrothead Crown? Plenty of his songs are on similar wavelengths as Jimmy’s. “No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problem” is kinda on the level of “Changes in Latitude, Changes in Attitude” and the instinct behind “Don’t Blink” seems to echo the sentiment of “He Went to Paris.” That song came from an album called “Poets and Pirates,” so you can’t tell me he wasn’t aiming full-bore for that Jimmy Buffett island in the musical ocean. After a solid decade of more or less straight Country.

Unless he was chasing that oh-so-lucrative Bertie Higgins space in the zeitgeist.

The Zac Brown band pivoted from Country to Parrot much earlier in their career. Their first hit, “Chicken Fried,” was 100% Country, but by the time they actually released their first album, they were solidly in parrot territory. Both “Toes” and “Knee Deep” are about vacationing, capturing the “Changes in Attitude” that Jimmy didn’t really discover until he was seven albums in. 

Initially, I wondered if Zac Brown might have gone too party too soon. I figured he’d make a bunch of songs about bangin’ hotties and hangovers, but wouldn’t be able to reflect on the daily grind. For full effect, those latitudes and attitudes must change.

But it didn’t take long for him to add wistful songs. One that jumps out to me is “You and Islands,” which sounds suspiciously like it should be about rum, but is more about the early days of quarantine and wanting to get back to the good old days of hanging out with each other. The most impressive part was that it was released in July, 2020, only a few months into quarantine. By comparison, I started writing this post back around the anniversary of Jimmy Buffett’s death. Zac Brown wrote, recorded, and released a song in less time than it took me to write 2,000 words about Zac Brown.

For what it’s worth, if Toby Keith were still alive, we’d probably be looking at something like “I Love this Bar” in the ballad realm, although maybe missing some of that “meaning of life” sentiment. “As Good As I Once Was” is a hilarious take on the theme of “A Pirate Looks at Forty,” one that I’m sure Jimmy enjoyed. And if there’s any party anthem that rivals “Margaritaville,” it’s “Red Solo Cup.”

But it’s hard to pass the ultimate “Laid Back” crown on to someone who made his career with “Angry American”.

Obviously I’ve tipped my hand, so I’m not going to drag out the various pros and cons of Zac Brown and Kenny Chesney. Instead I’ll focus on why I gravitate toward Zac Brown. And away from Kenny Chesney.

One major caveat before I delve too deeply. Despite knowing most of Toby Keith’s catalog, I’m not really a country music fan. Some of my friends who are more into country music tell me I’m misreading Kenny Chesney. That he was a bona fide star before he started to pivot. Maybe. But then why did he pivot?

I’m not going to blame my dislike of him entirely on his marriage to Renee Zellweger, but I’d be lying if I said that didn’t play a part. It seemed more a publicity stunt than anything else, rather suspiciously aligned with his move from country into mainstream. Sure, Renee Zellweger might be a wee bit mainstream, but you know what she isn’t? Laid back. 

There’s rumors that she was his beard. I don’t know if I buy that, because a beard relationship needs to last longer than a few months to be worthwhile. If they had some agreement to enter a loveless marriage so he could either stay in country or move into pop, it would’ve lasted longer.

Maybe they’re just two people incapable of real emotion since one acts in romance movies and the other sings songs and neither of them realized that the acting is supposed to stop at some point.

To me, most of Chesney’s Parrot music sounds, at best, insincere. Hollow. Dare I say pandering? It sounds like what an uptight guy thinks a laid-back person would say. His “No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problem,” in addition to being a phrase that’s been in popular usage since at least the 1980s, might as well be Matthew McConaughey calling out “Alright, Alright, Alright.” The only difference being that McConaughey owns it.

And “Key Lime Pie” is about as subtle a double entendre as AC/DC’s “Big Balls.” Maybe Renee Zellweger helped him write it. Neither of them enjoy cunnilingus, or maybe they’d never even tried it, but they’d heard of people who had and assumed they could make up what it’s like and the rubes would never notice. Like when the 40-Year-Old Virgin described breasts like a bag of sand. 

I’m surprised he didn’t follow it up with a song titled, “No Really, I Like Intercourse!”

Oh, and Kenny likes drinking, too! Tequila, usually, because that’s probably what some marketing exec determined was seen a manly booze. In reality, he’s probably a wine spritzer kinda guy. 

Here’s a Zac Brown lyric for comparison: “My bartender, she’s from the island, her body’s been kissed by the sun. Coconut replaces the smell of the room and I don’t know if it’s her or the rum.”

I mean, every male barfly I’ve ever known has fallen for a barkeep. Now maybe I don’t hang out at beach bars and maybe I’m more likely to be drinking beer than rum, but I’m sure I’ve questioned whether the sweetness that’s encompassing my visit is biological or barley. Until it goes sideways and I know it’s the bitterness of the hops.

You know what I’ve never thought while going down on a woman? “Not too tart, not too sweet.”

Jimmy Buffett did a cover of “Toes,” the Zac Brown song quoted above. I love the subtle difference in their delivery. Zac Brown, still with lead in his pencil, stresses the bartender. “My bartender… she’s from the island…” and in the final quandary, he drawls out the “herrrrrr” with “or the rum” almost an afterthought.

Jimmy, however, sings the first part all together, punctuating “Island” before finishing wondering if it’s “her… or the RUM.”

I’m also not 100% sure, but I think Jimmy sings her body “is kissed by the sun,” a matter-of- face descriptor, instead of the original “has been kissed by the sun” which implies divine provenance. How Jimmy feels about the rum.

(Yes, i know he didn’t drink for the last twenty years of his life.)

I mentioned that when I heard “Bubbles Up,” I thought it was the most perfect sendoff for a guy who knew it would be released posthumously. In theory, it’s a scuba diving adage when you get disoriented in the weightless darkness. Follow the bubbles, because they always go toward the surface. “They will lead you to home, no matter how deep or how far you roam.” 

He knew a lot of his fans would feel disoriented and rudderless by the time they heard those lyrics. A near prefect send-off.

Then Zac Brown did one better. 

As soon as i saw the title, Pirates & Parrots, I knew exactly what it was, and had every inkling it was done well.

The song is about Jimmy Buffett heading off to the great beach in the sky. It’s littered with references to Jimmy Buffett songs, some as obvious as “where it’s always 5 o-clock” (despite that technically being an Alan Jackson song) others more obscure (salty rock, anchor down) only for those with the Aloha Shirt Secret Decoder Rings. 

The best part about “Pirates & Parrots” is how unabashed it is. It could’ve gone for generic sad song, it could’ve pussyfooted around with references so only a select few would get them and the rest would think it’s about something else entirely, like those who assume “Eyes Wide Open” is about a son being born, not a Born Again Christian anthem. After Kurt Cobain died, Eddy Vedder wrote a song that was clearly a goodbye, but whenever he was asked about it, he got defensive and avoided the topic. 

In contrast, “Pirates & Parrots” is literally a letter, a eulogy, to Jimmy Buffett. It says we’re missing him, that we’re trying our best to keep the world moving on, but that we’re looking forward to hearing more of his stories when we get wherever he is. Hell, the chorus starts with “So adios, my friend.” Can’t get much more on the nose than that. 

And the lyric “We’ll pick up where you left off” seems like a sincere mission statement. Zac Brown feels like it’s his job to carry the torch forward, to fill the void that’s been left. Somehow, I feel like if Kenny Chesney were to sing that exact same lyric, it would come across as, “Sweet, there’s a whole bunch of fans, and their money, newly available on the market.” Like a guy who’s willing to drive your drunk girlfriend home.

Again, it’s probably more of a me thing.

I had a chance to see them last summer. Both of them. And that’s why I passed.

I was checking Zac Brown’s website and saw they’d be playing the ginormous spaceship that is SoFi Stadium in Los Angeles. It’s a venue that’s on my list, and what better time to go than to see a band I like but have never seen live. 

Something in the back of my mind was noting a slight incongruence, though. SoFi is huge. Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran play SoFi. Niche acts don’t. Hell, even Jimmy Buffett was more of an Arena guy than a Stadium guy, especially the biggest of stadiums. 

Then I heard Kenny Chesney was playing SoFi. And dammit, Zac Brown was opening for him. Not even a joint tour like Billy Joel and Elton John or Sting and Paul Simon. This was being billed as Kenny Chesney, with “special guest” Zac Brown.

Screw that! Sure, it would’ve meant that I could leave the concert early, maybe enjoy the evening in Los Angeles. But I didn’t want to contribute to Kenny Chesney’s ego, nor encourage him to smarm and swarm further into Parrothead turf. If I had faith everyone else in the stadium would’ve left when I did, I might’ve gone. Woulda been hilarious. But knowing the Parrotheads, too many of them would’ve been too drunk or stoned to coordinate it. 

Bummer. Guess I’m gonna have to wait until Zac Brown publishes tour dates for this year.

In the meantime, I’ll be heading off to see Nathaniel Rateliff in San Francisco next month. A guy who sings about drinking hard and making the most our of life. 

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