Lyle Lovett & the Nashville Symphony: A Night of Unicorns, Wit, and Western Swing

Lyle Lovett & His 'Mostly' Acoustic Band, joined by the Nashville Symphony, brought a night of storytelling, dry wit, and musical brilliance to the Schermerhorn Symphony Center.

He opened softly, easing the audience in before introducing his all-star band—each player a standout in their own right. Lovett wasted no time getting personal. Before the second song, he launched into a story about his children on a tour bus in Durango, Colorado. At just five years old, they were running up and down the aisle singing a song. Lyle recalled, “I said, ‘We have to write that!’

My daughter said, ‘There has to be a unicorn,’ and my son added, ‘And a dinosaur!’”

The result? A whimsical tune that had even the symphony players up and dancing with their instruments during the chorus—despite not having any sheet music.

He shared another memory about dancing around the living room with both kids in his arms. “Even though my children are seven years old now, I still like them,” he quipped, pulling warm laughter from the crowd. From there, he eased into a song filled with nostalgia, singing, “You bring to mind so many memories of how things were… and how they couldn’t be.”

Lovett, ever soft-spoken and sincere, brought grace to each anecdote. He praised Matt Rollings' orchestral arrangements, seamlessly blending acoustic Texas flavor with classical elegance. Songs like “It’s Like An Old Black And White Movie” had that cinematic feel, underlined with sweeping strings and just enough swing to make it feel like a forgotten dance from decades ago.

His stories kept coming—about his son saying “Dada, I just want to be free” on a ski lift, or how he became obsessed with the Bangles after his son developed a fascination with Egypt. One particularly funny moment came as he described watching TV with his son, who asked which team to cheer for—the red or the blue—before turning his attention to a political ad and saying,

“By the time I’m president, you’ll probably be dead.”

Lovett spoke fondly of family roots, referencing his Texas family cemetery and a tiny restaurant in Houston where he used to play songs before he had enough material for a full set. He joked that he would spend extra time tuning to cut a song and buy himself time. “If I Had a Boat” followed—timeless and tender—before the room perked up with “She’s No Lady,” full of sly, toe-tapping charm. He closed the first half with “That’s Right (You’re Not From Texas),” joined again by his backup singers. With its old-time Texas Western swing energy, the whole room felt like a 1920s barn dance—just with fancier clothes and a few more violins.

After a short intermission, Lovett returned with just the orchestra and conductor. Alone, he performed a reverent rendition of “Hallelujah,” one he’d sung every Easter at his Texas church. His band rejoined him for “Home Is Where My Horse Is,” which he wrote after skipping church to attend a horse competition in December 2007. He painted the picture of returning home, flipping on the TV to images of U.S. service members stationed abroad. The moment reminded him of the freedoms they provide—a sentiment that carried into the song’s gentle, grateful tone.

The second half was more stripped back, with fewer voices and more focus on Lovett’s lyrics. “She’s Already Made Up Her Mind” had a delicate melancholy to it. He reflected on his upbringing—how his parents gave him guitar and piano lessons, and how they’d stop at his favorite Mexican restaurant after. “Some of my finest memories are just riding in the front seat with them,” he said. “My children have never even seen the front seat.”

“Mother Maria” brought things inward again, followed by “North Dakota,” which featured the return of one of his backing vocalists. Lovett expressed deep gratitude to Matt Rollings once more for the arrangements, then delivered “Nobody Knows Me” with understated power.

Then came “What Do You Do?” — a song with wry, introspective lyrics that show Lovett’s talent for saying a lot with a little. He introduced it with his signature dry humor, letting the audience find their own meaning in the lines. It was a perfect example of how his songs can walk the line between wit and wisdom, leaving just enough space for listeners to insert themselves into the story.

Finally, Lovett gave thanks to the Schermerhorn Symphony Center and everyone involved in the show. He closed the night with a moving final tune, singing, “And when you find the one you might become, remember all you need is you.”

Throughout the night, Lovett’s distinctive voice was ever-present—warm and unmistakable. His lyrics grounded the show in the country tradition, but with the orchestra behind him, the music took on new colors and dimensions. It left you asking: what makes a song country? Is it the sound, the story, the honesty? With Lyle Lovett, it’s all of the above—and then some.