Billy plucked gold, and the weed preserved Willie, but "I have to say, Bob Dylan SUCKS!"

Willie Nelson performing at the Outlaw Music Festival stop at Talking Stick Resort Amphitheatre in Phoenix, AZ on May 13, 2025. Photographed by Alex Gold.

The Outlaw Music Festival 10th anniversary promised legends, delivered on two-thirds of them, and left one crowd member typing furious texts about a Nobel Prize winner. May 13th at Phoenix's Talking Stick Resort Amphitheatre showcased exactly why Billy Strings has everyone from bluegrass purists to bands like Bonginator citing him as their current obsession, while Bob Dylan reminded us all why live performance and artistic legacy don't always align.

The amphitheater buzzed with that particular energy you only get when multiple generations of music fans converge: twenty-somethings in vintage band tees mixing with graying cowboys who've been following Willie since the Carter administration.

I unfortunately missed Sierra Hull and Lily Meola's opening sets, but Billy Strings was absolutely fucking incredible. Between the raw talent and incredible stage presence (the guy seriously just keeps going and going and going), it's no wonder he's garnering respect across genre lines. As a transition between his full backing party and a slimmed down string section, he impressively monologued through "Catch & Release," not stumbling at all through the tongue twister of a song. I'm not generally a fan of any of the genres that Strings falls under, but there wasn't a single song that was difficult NOT to dance along to.

Considering a healthy chunk of Strings' setlist comprised covers, maybe I actually am a fan and just didn't realize it. The man's a human jukebox–"Ghost Train" (Bad Livers), "I'm Gone, Long Gone" (Don Reno, Red Smiley & The Tennessee Cut-Ups), "Brown's Ferry Blues" (Delmore Brothers), "Frosty Morn" (Doc Watson Family), "Miss the Mississippi and You" (Jimmy Rodgers), the traditional "Dusty Miller," and "Doin' My Time" (Jimmie Skinner).

Then came the main event everyone thought they wanted: Bob Dylan.

The crowd's energy shifted the moment Dylan's band took the stage; that particular brand of reverent anticipation reserved for living legends. But reverence quickly curdled into something else entirely. Look, I understand that Dylan's whole thing is that he's unintelligible, but he played "Mr. Tambourine Man" for the first time in 15 years and I didn't even recognize it until it was almost over. The song that launched a thousand cover versions had been deconstructed into something barely resembling its former self.

The crowd's restlessness became palpable. The guy over to the right of me started shouting to bring Willie on mid-song. That's when I caught him typing "I have to say, Bob Dylan SUCKS!" on his phone–and I swear I wasn't trying to stalk his screen, but when you've got your text size at 500% and you're holding your phone up to your face while shouting "BRING ON WILLIE!" every 30 seconds, it's hard not to notice. 

The murmur of discontent rippled through the amphitheater. "He's geriatric; they have to wheel him out of his cryo chamber to perform," the group behind me was overheard saying before a heated debate erupted over whether Dylan was actually even on stage or yet to appear while his band performed. Turns out he was behind the piano at an angle that obscured everything but his trademark hair; the cameras never switched from their wide shot, leaving most of the audience squinting at what could have been anyone with a wig and sunglasses.

Dylan was digging deep into the vault - "Forgetful Heart" (first time since 2015), "To Ramona" (first time since 2017), Bobby Troup's "Route 66" (first time since 1986), plus live debuts of George "Wild Child" Butler's "Axe and the Wind" and Charlie Rich's "I'll Make It All Up To You." But rarity doesn't equal quality when you can't make out the words to songs people actually came to hear. Partway through, I genuinely considered joining the early exodus that was slowly beginning.

The set wrapped 15 minutes before the posted end time–officially within the "may vary" window, but everyone suspected why it was cut short. When Dylan finally disappeared, multiple unrelated pockets of the crowd began chanting "Bob's Dead!" It wasn't entirely cruel; it felt more like a mercy killing. At least we can all say we saw him, regardless of whether it was the first time or not, as I don't suspect we'll be seeing any future tours from Dylan. 

The energy reset completely when Willie Nelson took the stage. At 92, the man was everything Dylan's set wasn't: present, engaged, and somehow more vital than performers half his age. Willie opened with "Whiskey River" and proceeded to remind everyone why he's been the king of this particular castle for five decades.

Nelson turned the evening into a masterclass in song ownership. Larry Davis's "Texas Flood," Ed Bruce's "Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys," Gwen McCrae's "You Were Always on My Mind" - Willie doesn't cover songs, he splices his DNA into them and makes them his own. The biggest surprise was Pearl Jam's "Just Breathe," transformed from grunge ballad to honky-tonk hymnal without losing an ounce of emotional weight. Even Tom Waits' "Last Leaf" sounded like it had been waiting its whole life for Willie's weathered voice.

One of the night's most delightful moments came when Willie handed over the lead to someone in his band "the Family"–but it turns out it was actually his family: Lukas Nelson, his son (though I had to piece that together from Willie's introduction moments before). For someone mostly ignorant to Nelson's family, watching this musical DNA in action was a revelation that added another layer to the enjoyment.

He closed with Hank Williams' "I Saw the Light" as Billy Strings, Lily Meola, and Sierra Hull joined him onstage, creating a moment that reminded everyone why this festival has endured for a decade.

At venues like Talking Stick, I'm usually plotting my escape route by the headliner's third song–the sound carries well enough to the parking lot, and beating the exodus is worth missing an encore. But Willie's gravitational pull kept most of the amphitheater locked in place until his final bow.

Overall, ignoring Dylan's disappointing set, it was everything I expected from the Outlaw Music Festival. I do have to say, though, there was a disturbing amount of children there. Like, young children. And their parents seemed genuinely upset by the amount of people smoking marijuana around them. Read the room, and maybe the list of things CPS considers child endangerment or reckless parenting, or your kids are gonna be cooked. Specifically, smoked.