Keith Urban + Sugarland

Madison Square Garden; Thu 8

Keith Urban

Photograph: Max Vadukal

Call Keith Urban the lesser of any two evils. Compared with the ass-kicking and flag-waving of Toby Keith, Urban’s a refreshingly nonpolitical country-music stud. Of the two men who’ve been Mr. Nicole Kidman, he’s the one who hasn’t done Oprah couch gymnastics. So what if his highlighted locks appear to be a botched attempt at “The Rachel”? A guy who strums along happily to giddy confections like “Kiss a Girl” and “Sweet Thing” (from last year’s Defying Gravity) can almost be forgiven his soul patch. (Almost.)

An Australian guitar geek gone global, Urban is kind of a less sleazy John Mayer, rising to country music prominence by letting his guitar licks and Tiger Beat looks do the heavy lifting. His tattooed not-so-bad-boy routine sells both Down Under and down South, equal parts banjo and electric-guitar wail. That affection for riffing on classic Ozzy and Skynyrd in concert lends credibility to his otherwise effervescent pop-country.

As Urban’s opening act, the duo Sugarland is as unapologetically Southern as Urban is international. Jennifer Nettles’s hoarse twang is like Dolly Parton after a straight-tequila night, while partner Kristian Bush is never seen in public without a cowboy hat or fedora. Not that their regional pedigree will alienate an MSG crowd—this smiley duo turns even teenage tragedy (“Joey”) and fickle hearts (“Steve Earle”) into bouncy sing-alongs. Having staked their Nashville careers on clever hooks rather than jingoism, Urban and Sugarland are about as big-city-friendly as arena country gets.—Allison Williams

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