Unless you’re into country music, you probably haven’t heard of Jason Aldean, but his chart-topping singles and summer tour have the singer poised to become a household name.
His Kinda Party
Aldean Army, the platinum-selling country singer’s fan club, I son the move and may well invade your neck of the woods this summer. And while the singer has broken out as one of Nashville’s hottest young hit makers, the 32-year-old isn’t too jaded to get a thrill from a superstar. When Aldean’s No. 1 single. “She’s Country,” went gold, Keith Urban sent Aldean a bottle of Cristal champagne with a note that read, “Top of the mountain has a pretty nice view. Congratulations.”
Aldean says, “Keith is just a nice dude. You almost think it’s put on, but it’s legit. He’s an amazing musician, obviously, but he’s also just a class act.”
Aldean, who is also on Urban’s summer tour, shares the Aussie’s love of ear wear. The Georgia native pioneered the cowboy-hat-and-two-earrings look when he arrived in Music City in the late nineties — and caught plenty of flack for it. (Al dean says with a laugh, “Keith’s got like 12 in one ear, and nobody ever says anything about that.”) But with the release of his third album, Wide Open, it looks as if Al dean can do whatever he wants — except dance. “If I’d had to rely on dance moves to help me out with women, I’d have been in trouble,” says the man behind such hits as “Hicktown” and “Johnny Cash.” “I had to learn how to play an instrument and sing.”
Still, it’s been a circuitous route to that mountain peak. In 2006, Aldean was voted the Academy of Country Music’s Top New Male Vocalist, but it took the Country Music Association two more years to nominate him in its equivalent category. “I don’t think anybody knows how these awards shows go,” he says. “That would have been a great one to have, but I’ll take a platinum record over an award.” He also muses on stage jumpers, football, and his resemblance to Elvis.
You’re from Macon, Georgia, an area rife with musical history — the Allman Brothers, Little Richard, Otis Redding. Were any of them influences on your music?
I don’t think you can grow up in Macon and not be influenced by country music, Southern rock, and R&B soul. Otis Redding is the best singer ever. You listen to his records — and that was in the day before they had Pro Tools, where you can make anybody sound good — and I don’t think there’s anybody who compares. He was just the most soulful singer.
You actually grew up on the outskirts of Macon. Was it “Hicktown” for you?
I don’t know if I’d call it Hicktown, but drive 30 minutes outside Macon in any direction and you’ll hit those places, for sure. They were definitely around.
Football seems to be a primal force to every man from Georgia. Is it for you?
Football is very important, especially college football. My team is the Georgia Bulldogs. I just had a TV installed in one of the bays under my bus, so I can sit outside and watch the games. I have this awning that comes out and keeps it shaded, and I have my little Georgia Bulldog reclining chair. It’s kind of like being in the stands. That tells you how important football is to me.
Do you remember the first time you were in love?
It was Alyssa Milano, from Who’s the Boss?. I used to have a picture of her hanging on my wall. I was in love with her for years.
You co-wrote “Keep the Girl,” from the new album, about your wife, Jessica, who was your high school sweetheart. But the song is about whether to stay in your small town or go after the big world, and whether you could keep her at the same time.
Yeah, she was in college, and we had been dating for quite a few years at that point. And here I was, getting ready to pick up and move my life to Nashville to pursue music, leaving her there and not knowing how that was going to play out in the end.
Obviously, it worked out, but another song, “The Truth,” indicates you’ve had your heart broken.
I know the feeling well. When you’re around all your friends, you don’t want them to know that you’re miserable and sad, so you act like everything is cool, but it’s really not. That song is just a real portrayal of what it’s like to go through that experience.
What was your worst heartbreak?
Probably my wife. I started dating her when I was 17. Like a lot of high school relationships, you get together, and you break up, then get back together and break up again. One time we broke up for about six months. That’s the longest we had ever split up, and I remember that being the roughest one. I didn’t think we were going to get back together.
What did you do during those six months? Did you get drunk to deal with it, or try to get her back?
I just hung out with my friends a lot. I was one of those guys who had a girlfriend pretty much all through school. I would break up with one girl and date another chick right after that. So, it sucked because we had broken up, but on the other hand, it was good because it gave me a chance to have some guy time for a while. That was probably my therapy right there.
Had she been the one to break it off?
Yes, and it was usually because I did something pretty stupid. You know how it is in high school. She finds out that you’re talking to some other girl on the phone, or this person says that. It was always some deal like that.
Does she go out on the road with you now, or does she stay home with your daughters?
She goes occasionally, especially when summer rolls around. Then they come out whenever we are close to Nashville. But with two kids on a bus, it gets small pretty quick, and there’s not a lot of room for them to run around and play. So I like it if they can be back to Nashville in a day if they start getting too tired.
You’ve said the birth of your daughters was the most exciting thing you’ve ever seen.
It was just amazing. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see that, because I didn’t know if I’d pass out. But actually being there — I don’t even know how to describe it. It was such a life-changing event. The doctor said, “Look down here when Jessica has another contraction.” And I said, “Well, no.” Then he said, “Oh, there’s her head!” And I looked and actually saw Keeley being born. She’s six now.
Then I was really sweating it with my second daughter, because I was worried about getting home in time. I was out on the road touring with Rascal Flatts. Those guys fly home after the show each weekend in a private plane, and they let me come. So, if we played a show on Saturday night, I would be home by 1 A.M., instead of getting home the next day at noon. That allowed me to be there for Kendyl’s birth three years ago, and it was just a cool, cool thing. I’m glad I got to experience it twice.
What’s the best thing about fatherhood?
Coming home off the road, just seeing the look on their faces when I walk in. Having them run up and give me a hug. To me, that’s a cool feeling. I want to raise my girls to be levelheaded and appreciative of the things we’ve got. They were born into this deal; they weren’t around to see Mom and Dad struggling to pay bills. I hope at the end of the day, we will have raised them in a way that they don’t take that stuff for granted.
Women come on to you on the road all the time. As a family man, how do you handle that?
You just have to take it for what it’s worth. It’s very flattering, but I always ask myself, “Would this person give a shit if she saw me walking through the mall and she didn’t know my name?” And since I don’t remember getting this much attention before I had a few hits, the answer is no, she wouldn’t. But I could be the ugliest guy in the world and be up there playing an instrument and chicks would still like me. That’s just the way it is. And if you take that stuff too seriously, you start getting into trouble.
Have there been women who just wouldn’t give up?
Absolutely. We played in New York City the other night and went to this little bar, and there were three girls who had been to the show. One of them should have stopped drinking before the show started. She kept walking to the bar to get a drink, then elbowing me in the back to catch my eye. And I was like, “Do you realize how annoying that is? Giving somebody scoliosis is not a good way to get his attention.”
They do stuff like that all of the time, and usually it’s at a bar. Drinking tends to bring out the weirdness in people. Hell, I’m probably the same way.
How physical has it gotten onstage?
Well, I had my pants ripped from the bottom to halfway up my shin in a bar in Charlotte, North Carolina, a couple of years ago. They’re always grabbing your legs and touching your boots, but there were a couple of crazies in the front row, and one got my pants and started tearing them off me. They were just flopping around. I was pissed, too, because it was one of my favorite pairs of jeans.
Lately, though, something has started happening that’s been a little weird for me, and that’s stage jumpers — people who get onstage during our show. A lot of times I don’t see them coming up, so when I turn around and there’s a six-foot-five-inch guy there that I don’t know, it’s a really freaky deal. Nine times out of ten, it’s just somebody having a good time, somebody who’s probably had a little too much to drink. But some guy got up onstage and shot and killed Dimebag Darrell from Pantera. You never know when you are going to get that one wacko up there to harm you. You’re so exposed out there anyway, so that’s always a little scary for me.
People used to tell you that you looked like a young Elvis. How did you feel about that?
The mother of one of my first girlfriends was a huge Elvis fan, and she told me that when I was 15 or 16. I didn’t really see it, but the older I got, the more people started saying that. When I don’t have my hat on, I get it a lot more, because my hat shades my eyes. But you know what? Women thought Elvis was a stud, so hell, I’ll take it!
