Cowboy Carter Tour: My Experience in Beyoncé’s Kaleidoscopic Rodeo of Black Americana

America’s full and true identity lies in the multifaceted nature of its population and its component parts—much like Beyoncé and her range. There is no separating her artistry from her brand, which she winks at with the inclusion of a billboard-like neon sign promoting her hair-care line Cécred at the edge of the stage, as well as a robot pouring her a stiff glass of her SirDavis whisky mid-show. It veers on cringe at best and shamelessly capitalist at worst (reminiscent of Rihanna’s Super Bowl Fenty makeup application); but if we’re being honest, America has raised us all to speak the language of money and advertising.

The filmic spaghetti western interludes peppered throughout, which almost guarantee the existence of currently unreleased visuals that span all of the acts (we hope), nod to mass media and the power of propaganda. At one point, we see a giant Beyoncé smoking a cigar with the Statue of Liberty and walking past Prada Marfa. At another juncture, she’s pistol-whipping a woman during a saloon brawl and then being preserved as a statue in gold. Her references to iconic Hollywood tropes and participation in popular culture are intentionally tongue-in-cheek, though they also reveal a somewhat sad surrender to the reality that she too has become a product. Despite my mixed feelings stirred up by her cheaper stunts, in her broader pursuit to make her commitment to Southern culture clear and reclaim country’s Black roots on a global platform Beyoncé succeeds.

The show is replete with American flag symbolism.

Photo: Evan Nicole Brown

But enough with the political under- (and over)tones. Beyoncé is having fun. And so are we. And in an era of social-media-smoothed brains and mounting crises on every level, I am in support of being present and enjoying life for a night. The show is flashy like the Las Vegas strip, and sultry like the gaze of a saloon girl. I couldn’t stop dancing and singing along—which surprised me, because I haven’t felt like Cowboy Carter has the best replay value, but the lyrics and harmonies found their way into my subconscious regardless.

This is a tour of the album, but moreover it’s a tour across Beyoncé’s oeuvre. Certain elements of the stage design recalled Renaissance, and she tastefully references past eras of herself by arranging her latest music alongside some of her greatest hits, including “Why Don’t You Love Me” and “Thique,” during which the stage temporarily becomes a beauty salon, just like the set of the 1999 Destiny’s Child music video for “Bills, Bills, Bills.” In essence, these choices suggest that Beyoncé is as much of a genre—ripe with history and lore—as country is.

Across the three full hours of the show, the performers are moving with precision, but also simply partying. The stage seems like it could be a cookout in your or my backyard, or a whisky-fueled night at the bar. The energy of the stadium is high, a direct response to the intensity of the lights and dazzling pyrotechnics. The end of the star-shaped stage is an arrow, pointing directly at the audience. I wonder if this operates as some sort of call to action: to stand, to sing, to pledge allegiance.