Erstwhile flannel-flyers may find themselves aghast at what their beloved genre has become in Chris Daughtry's callused hands: "adult grunge contemporary," excessively earnest bombast topped with apsirational, growly lyrics about self-improvement. (See also: David Cook. Fuckin' American Idol, right?) But Daughtry humped the charts for a long time and spawned a slew of singles (look for his new disc, Leave This Town, to be similarly popular) because that sincerity came off as heartfelt, and because Daughtry and the gaggle of songwriters backing him remembered that the Creed/Foo Fighters/Staind build-then-surf-the-blare imperative wasn't a fluke formula—it was the golden key to winning hearts and minds from coast to coast, listeners who could relate to the frustrations and pitfalls inherent in striving to be the best self one can be while pulling double duty as a spouse and a parent. That Daughtry toiled in local bands and as a car-dealership service advisor prior to his music career exploding certainly didn't hurt. All ages. (Photo by Max Vadukul)
Sun., Aug. 9, 6 p.m., 2009

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