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In the words of Grand Funk: They’re an American band.
Those of us who are prone to think and argue about rock ‘n’ roll superlatives often debate which act counts as the greatest American band of the 20th century: Is
it the Beach Boys? Nirvana? The Grateful Dead? Nirvana? Sly & the Family Stone? The Doors? R.E.M.? Plenty to choose from, on the path to not arriving at any true consensus choice. When it comes to which group is the 21st century’s greatest American band, the choices are a lot narrower. The White Stripes are a couple of pick to start the discussion with, but from there, any given suggestion is likely to meet with more naysayers than yay-sayers.
So here’s a radical suggestion: It might be the Chicks. Watching the trio and their accompanists do their first full U.S. gig in close to three years in Southern California over the weekend — a summer preview of the full tour they recently announced for this fall, to mark the 20th anniversary of their Grammy-hoarding “Taking the Long Way” album — I found myself forming thoughts going well beyond the gig at hand to what they have meant to American culture… as one does. If you’re thinking of topical import, there’s almost no competition, in considering what they or other acts might’ve stood for and symbolized. Particularly at their newsworthiest in the mid-2000s, there were big portions of the populace thinking: We are all Dixie Chicks now. Or, none of us are, if you were one of the reddest people in one of the reddest states. But what other musical act in the last 25 years, apart from maybe Taylor Swift, has seemingly constitutionally required every single citizen to take a position?
But forget they ever made a single headline. That was surprisingly easy to do, as the group made its return headlining the Yaamava’ Theater in Highland, a relatively intimate venue at a resort just outside of greater L.A. that attracts a steady stream of A-list artists. There was nothing remotely polarizing in a gig that everything to do with classic virtues. Like: the levitational qualities of flawless harmonizing, X-treme instrumental tightness, grin-worthy picking, and a meaningful song catalog that encompasses satire and sorrow and the universal desire to be taken away.
But there were the briefest hints of what the Chicks have stood for and still do. “ It’s nice to see you,” Maines said at the outset. “We were afraid everybody would be on a flight to D.C. to see the…” — and audience applause and laughter drowned out whatever UFC fight reference she made to finish the sentence. Later, introducing the Patty Griffin song “Don’t Let Me Die in Florida” (which they only ever recorded for a live album), Maines got off her one other topical quip of the night, chiding, “Florida’s such an amazing state, like no other. I feel like Spencer Pratt is on his way there right now.” But the Chicks were more into setting a tone with quotes from a Maya Angelou poem that flashed across the screen and over the PA at the very start of the show: “We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike.” The Chicks are running on the unity ticket, after all, when all is said and done, even if the rebellion of “Not Ready to Make Nice” and the title track of “Taking the Long Way” remain as proud intrinsic reminders of the fearlessness with which they met the toughest of onslaughts in the 2000s.
The Chicks’ “Taking the Long Way” anniversary tour officially begins in Detroit on Sept. 30, with shows to follow at mid-sized theaters in Chicago, New York, Nashville, D.C., Austin, Seattle, San Antonio and finally back in SoCal with a two-nighter at Hollywood’s Dolby Theatre at the beginning of November. It’s not clear whether the set they did at Yaamava’ is exactly what they plan to do for the fall tour, (They’re also doing four shows this summer opening for Tim McGraw in stadiums.) The focus was actually slightly more on their most recent album, 2020’s “Gaslighter,” which got six songs, versus four from 2006’s “Taking the Long Way,” which still counts as their next-to-latest record. (No one has accused them of being overly prolific lately.) Either way that balance tips, you don’t lose: There is a lot of natural drama to be found in either “Gaslighter,” commonly known as Natalie’s divorce record, or “Taking the Long Way, the Chicks’ divorce-from-mainstream-country album.
So if you want to hear Maines doing her most passionate singing — and that’s a fierce, beautiful, slightly scary thing to behold — it would be a tossup. You could easily say that moment comes with “Not Ready to Make Nice,” which still sends a chill down the spine with its moving and masterful “shut up and sing” bridge. Or maybe that peak comes earlier when she is detailing her ex-husband’s indiscretions in “Tights on My Boat.” Even now, she sounds really not ready to make nice with that guy. The handful of songs that get into this territory provide a timely reminder that the “Gaslighter” album was kind of the Chicks making their version of “West End Girl” before Lily Allen made “West End Girl,” loosely speaking.
But anger is only an occasionally riveting spice in this show, not the dominant emotion. “Wide Open Spaces” and “Cowboy Take Me Away” are as rapturous as country or pop music get. They are able to get a little horny with “Texas Man” (a species Maines is definitely more drawn toward than Florida Man). The other side of Texas is explored in “Lubbock or Leave It,” their most outrightly rock ‘n’ roll number, which is full of spit and vinegar but ultimately means to deliver a spirited good time even more than it’s a vessel for pointed hometown commentary. And their cover of “Landslide” is as irresistible as ever, its harmonies eliciting “ooh’s” and “aah’s” like the gentlest fireworks display you’ve ever attended.
And then there are the uptempo perennials that made Highland, California the giddiest place on earth. “Sin Wagon” is a bluegrassy adrenaline rush early in the set (will Maines ever not intone “mattress dancing” like she’s antagonizing squares with it for the very first time?). Much later in the show — nine months later? — comes the sequel, “White Trash Wedding,” played by the trio and their accompanying ensemble at the highest rates of beats-per-minute as it is possible for human hands to proficiently go. They “shouldn’t be wearing white,” as the song says, although for this show they were; the matching red outfits they’d had on to do “Kimmel” a few nights earlier would have been appropriate for the fire this song sets in concert, 24 nimble-fingered years later. The closer, as always, could be nothing but the almost wholesomely homicidal “Goodbye Earl”; maybe it’s strictly coincidence that they place their big revenge song immediately after “Not Ready to Make Nice,” but either way, it makes for a hell of a case of tension and release.
Special attention ought to be paid to another recurring highlight, “Travelin’ Soldier,” still arguably the most heartbreaking song of this century. It was once described to me by its writer, Bruce Robison, as “the fastest descending song in the history of the country chart,” due to having been No. 1 at what turned out to be an inopportune moment in 2003. Twenty-three years later, it’s become a hit of sorts for current country chart-topper Cody Johnson, who adopted what is clearly an antiwar song for patriotic reasons — not that those two elements cancel each other out, but with the heartache all but stripped out of it, his version feels like a whitewash, however well-intended. The Chicks’ version, now, as then, remains the song to break open when you need a truly good cry.
What’s different from previous Chicks tours? Maines’ mane, for one small thing; “Long hair,” she said, dismissively, when her now grown-out locks got caught in a guitar strap as she was taking it off. (Surely no one in America will harbor anything against her now that she has solved the one problem they had with her and grown it out again, right?)
But also, the fact that they are back in theaters for their headline dates this year makes for a very different stage dynamic. In many of their road trips as an arena act, they performed in the round, which was effective in one sense for being able to disperse the three women to different parts of the stage at different times to play to different parts of the audience. The downside to that was losing the visual sense of group unity for much if not most of the show. And there was something about the massive levels of backlash that the Chicks encountered back in the day that made you want to see them stress the sisterhood as a literal united front, on a subliminal or literal level. The Chicks seem more lovable and powerful than ever in a straight left-to-right lineup, augmented by a whole battery of the finest musicians in rock, country or pop — a friendly but formidable army ready to throw down a roots-based amalgam nobody could mess with or surpass.
Not everyone who sees the Chicks out on the road this year will necessarily get them in quite as perfect a setting as the Yaamava’ Theater. It’s a venue that’s worth driving a little to get to, and navigating some alternating rows of slot machines and upscale restaurants for, to be able to walk into an idealized concert-going experience with the benefit of close-up sightlines and unassailable sound, and for artists that usually almost always play bigger halls or amphitheaters. (Bob Dylan is also playing there this week; this is not your grandfather’s casino entertainment operation.) It’s the next best thing to being able to see one of these acts in a club, even if the 21-and-over age restriction is the only really club-like thing about it. (Sorry, moms who wanted to expose their young daughters to some serious musical feminism this month.)
But the part about the shift back to traditional proscenium staging that will benefit all their theater shows this year is that the audience again gets to choose which Chick to focus on: Maines, still one of the most riveting and indomitable voices in popular music, or fiddler Martie Maguire and banjo player/slide-guitarist Emily Robison, together forming the Greek chorus that is every bit as capable of slaying dragons despite the winsomely disarming smiles. If one of the major qualifications for an all-time great band is that every member has an indelible personality and appeal, no one fits the bill any better than the Chicks, even before you take their classic song sense and singing and playing prowess into account. They still collectively represent everything that’s best about American music, from skill on through to attitude right up to the ability to melt you into a happy puddle. Whoever ends up playing the America 250 or (shudder) Freedom 250 gigs, the Chicks are our pick for Band of the Sesquicentennial.
Setlist for the Chicks at Yaamava’ Theater, Highland, California, June 12, 2026:
March March
The Long Way Around
Wide Open Spaces
Sin Wagon
Texas Man
Julianna Calm Down
Cowboy Take Me Away
Truth #2
Lubbock or Leave It
Daddy Lessons/Long Time Gone
Gaslighter
Sleep at Night
Tights on My Boat
Easy Silence
Landslide
Don’t Let Me Die in Florida
White Trash Wedding
Travelin’ Soldier
Manchild
Not Ready to Make Nice
Goodbye Earl
