I've been fortunate enough to see Lyle Lovett twice, both times at Texas A&M in College Station. (It's a little-known fact that Lyle and Robert Earl Keen were both English majors at TAMU. Be sure to remember that for the next "Alt.country" category on Jeopardy.) The first time I saw him, literally on the eve of the release of Joshua Judges Ruth, it was Lyle and three other musicians: John Hagan on cello, a percussionist, and another guitar player. It was an amazing evening: Intimate, smart, memorable. (Plus, he told us the story behind the "Flyswatter Blues," which is always something to impress people with at parties.)

The second time, I saw Lyle was with his Large Band, and it made for another amazing evening, though a very different one. This time, Lyle was telling fewer stories, less an old friend; rather, this was the professional Lyle, a bit slicker, more produced, bigger.

I've remained uncertain as to which evening I've preferred since both were so different. It says much about Lovett's artistic versatility that he can so easily and effectively change his act. Thus, I was excited to learn that Lovett had released a live album because he is a performer to be seen live.

Live in Texas is, as the title suggests, Lovett and the Large Band in Texas-Austin and San Antonia on August 29-September 1, 1995-the only place Lovett could record this kind of album. He has, after all, never been shy about touting the virtues of his home. And he's careful to include "That's Right" (You're Not From Texas)," which has the great line about his girl "being from Georgia" whom he eventually leaves behind for Texas. Given that joke is that his "girl" was Julia Roberts whom Lovett has, indeed, left behind, it's even more appropriate that the disc be recorded in the Lone Star State.

Live is a very fine disc with plenty of highlights. I'd have to say that my favorite is probably Rickie Lee Jones's appearance on "North Dakota," a 6-minute plus tour de force that never fails to call up the desolation that is North Dakota and a way of life that has passed. Of course, having Francine Reed back in the Large Band is a great treat, with her "Wild Women Don't Get the Blues" calling attention to her amazing vocal skills. And finally someone has recorded John Hagan's dexterity on the cello in "You Can't Resist It." Hagan always takes the cello to places it has never been before; it's great that more people will be able to hear it. The dynamism of the Large Band is seen throughout, especailly on "Penguins," "Church," and "Here I Am."

It's all amazing stuff.

Plus, Lovett has included material from throughout his career, with "Closing Time" from his first disc and "If I Had a Boat" from Pontiac along with more recent material like "I've Been to Memphis."

But for some reason, this one just doesn't work for me.

Actually, I know why. The great thing about seeing Lyle live is his stories, this sense that for two hours, you're friends with this amazingly talented and funny guy. For me, the problem with Live is that the stories are gone. That is, there's no real sense of Lyle on this disc. All the parts are there; there's just no glue.

A friend gave me a copy of a recent tape of a Lyle live performance, and I listened to it again after hearing Live. You know, I like the tape better. Lyle's voice, for lack of a better term, is there. It's the storyteller. And that's what Live in Texas is missing. With a lot of artists, it wouldn't matter, but Lyle Lovett isn't just any artist. He's the guy who does the television advertisement for Texas where he's going through the telephone book, calling folks, and urging them to come to Texas.

Live in Texas is, I suppose, fine, but it doesn't do what great live albums do, which is give an audience a real sense of a performer-and the stuff missing on this one is crucial.