Alan Jackson’s Emotional Last Call Tour: A Family Affair in Tampa
Country music icon Alan Jackson has been a beloved voice in the genre for more than three decades. Since releasing his debut single back in 1989, Jackson has built an enduring legacy—selling over 75 million records worldwide. Over the years, he’s taken home numerous accolades, including two Grammy Awards, 16 Country Music Association Awards, and 17 Academy of Country Music Awards.

In 2023, Alan made a heartfelt announcement—he was returning to the stage for what could be his final tour. The Last Call: One More For The Road Tour kicked off in August and spans ten major arena shows across the country. These performances aren’t just concerts—they’re the last time fans in these cities will see him live on stage, making each moment all the more meaningful.

Jackson has been joined on tour by a stellar lineup of opening acts, including Chris Young, Lee Ann Womack, Zach Top, and several other rising stars in country music. Their support has helped elevate each show into an unforgettable experience for audiences of all ages.

While every stop on the tour carries emotional weight, one particular evening stood out in a deeply personal way. On Saturday, April 26th, Jackson performed at Amalie Arena in Tampa, Florida, and it wasn’t just any night—it was a gathering of generations.

Alan’s wife, Denise, and their family were in attendance, turning the show into a full-circle moment. The couple shares three daughters—Mattie, Ali, and Dani—and are now proud grandparents to two young boys.

Mattie and her husband, Connor, brought along their son, Wesley, while Ali attended with her husband, Sam, and their son, Jackson. For the two grandsons, this evening marked something truly special: the first time they had ever seen their grandfather perform live.

Jackson later described his previous performance at the Two Step Inn as “one to remember,” but for a man who has sung to millions, nothing likely compared to singing in front of his family—especially the youngest generation seeing him for the very first time. It was a reminder that behind the fame and accolades is a devoted husband, father, and now, a proud grandfather.

This leg of the Last Call Tour continues to be more than a farewell—it’s a celebration of life, legacy, and the people who matter most. For fans, it’s a chance to say goodbye. For Alan Jackson and his family, it’s a chance to hold onto something that will last far beyond the final encore.

After the family outing, Mattie wrote:

“This weekend Ali and I got to take our boys to their first [Alan Jackson] show. There’s no telling how many shows I’ve been at in my life, but my goodness was this one special for all of us…”

Along with a series of photos from the show, she added:

“Wesley’s too young to get it, of course, but to have pictures and videos and memories of their Grandaddy perform is priceless to say the least. Very thankful for this little bitty moment!”

See additional photos from Alan Jackson’s grandson’s first time at his concert in Mattie Jackson Smith’s post below!

Related Post

BILLY JOE SHAVER WROTE “LIVE FOREVER” WITH HIS SON. THEN EDDY DIED ON NEW YEAR’S EVE — AND BILLY JOE HAD TO KEEP SINGING IT ALONE. By the early 1990s, Billy Joe Shaver had spent years being known as the man behind other people’s records. He had written most of Waylon Jennings’ Honky Tonk Heroes. He had made his own albums. But the new thing in his life was standing beside him with a guitar. His son Eddy Shaver could play fast, loud, and mean. In 1993, father and son released Tramp on Your Street under the name Shaver. Eddy was not just backing Billy Joe up. He was the lead guitar player, the younger half of the sound, the man turning his father’s old Texas songs into something harder and electric. Somewhere in that run, they wrote “Live Forever” together. It was built like a Billy Joe Shaver song: stubborn, rough-edged, too proud to sound scared. The title did not seem like a warning then. It sounded like two Shavers doing what they always did — daring life to hit them first. Then 1999 came. Billy Joe’s wife Brenda died of cancer. His mother died that same year. Eddy was hit hard by the losses. He struggled with heroin. Billy Joe and Eddy fought, then worked their way back toward each other long enough to record The Earth Rolls On. The album was supposed to come out in 2001. But on December 31, 2000, Eddy Shaver died in Waco. He was thirty-eight. Billy Joe went onstage again. He made more records. He kept carrying “Live Forever” into rooms where Eddy’s guitar was no longer waiting behind him. Years later, Willie Nelson and Lucinda Williams recorded the song for a Billy Joe Shaver tribute album. But the song had changed long before that. Billy Joe Shaver wrote “Live Forever” with his son. Then he had to stand there and sing it after the other voice was gone.

HE WAS ON THE ROAD, TALKING TO HIS WIFE, WHEN HE SAID THE WORDS THAT WOULD TURN INTO A SONG ABOUT A MAN DYING UNDER A BRIDGE. The road had become part of the job. Airports, buses, hotel rooms, soundchecks, another city before the last one had settled in his mind. He tried to reassure her the way people on the road often do. “This is temporary,” he told her. “I’m almost home.” The phrase stayed with him. Later, Morgan and songwriter Kerry Kurt Phillips built a different story around it. Not a road song. Not a love song. A song about a homeless man lying under a bridge, cold and tired, dreaming of a woman named Jenny and a place he can finally reach. “Almost Home” did not sound like a normal radio calculation. The man in the song was not drinking in a bar, driving a truck, or trying to get a girl back. He was dying. The final turn was quiet: the police officer finds him in the morning, but the man has already gone where he believed home really was. Morgan recorded it for his 2003 album I Love It. The song became his breakthrough. It reached the country Top 10, won BMI Song of the Year recognition, and introduced a different side of Craig Morgan to listeners. They knew the soldier. They knew the working-class singer. Now they heard him telling a story about someone most people passed without seeing. Years later, Jelly Roll told Morgan that “Almost Home” had helped him through jail. That may be the strangest part of the song’s life. It began with a husband on the road trying to reassure his wife. It became a dying man’s last dream. Then it reached people in places Craig Morgan could not have imagined when he first said the words into a phone.

AT 70, BILLY JOE SHAVER SHOT A MAN OUTSIDE A TEXAS BAR. THREE YEARS LATER, WILLIE NELSON SAT IN THE COURTROOM WHILE A JURY DECIDED IF HE WOULD GO TO PRISON. By 2007, Billy Joe Shaver had already lived the kind of life that made most outlaw songs sound tame. He had written much of Honky Tonk Heroes for Waylon Jennings. He had buried his wife, his mother, and his son. He had survived a heart attack onstage at Gruene Hall. He was nearly seventy, still playing Texas rooms, still carrying the same hard edge that had made people call him an outlaw even when he preferred another word. Then, on March 31, 2007, he went to Papa Joe’s Texas Saloon in Lorena. Outside the bar, Billy Joe got into an argument with a man named Billy Bryant Coker. Shaver said Coker threatened him with a knife. Witnesses described the confrontation differently. What nobody disputed was what happened next: Billy Joe pulled a .22 pistol and shot Coker in the face. Coker survived. Shaver turned himself in days later. He was charged with aggravated assault, a case that could have sent him to prison for as long as twenty years. The old songwriter who had spent a lifetime turning fights, failures, faith, and bad decisions into songs was suddenly standing inside a Texas courtroom with his own life reduced to testimony, photographs, and one question: had he acted in self-defense? The trial came in April 2010. Willie Nelson was there. Robert Duvall was there too. Duvall testified about Billy Joe’s character and told the jury he did not believe Shaver would have fired unless he thought his life was in danger. Willie sat through the proceedings as the case moved toward its verdict. Then the jury came back. Not guilty. Billy Joe walked out of the courthouse without prison waiting behind him. He was seventy years old when the shooting happened. He had spent three years carrying the charge. And after the verdict, he went back to doing what Billy Joe Shaver always did when life nearly broke open around him. He kept moving. Most singers spend their final years protecting the legend. Billy Joe Shaver spent his standing in a courtroom while two old friends watched a jury decide whether the road had finally caught him.

You Missed

BILLY JOE SHAVER WROTE “LIVE FOREVER” WITH HIS SON. THEN EDDY DIED ON NEW YEAR’S EVE — AND BILLY JOE HAD TO KEEP SINGING IT ALONE. By the early 1990s, Billy Joe Shaver had spent years being known as the man behind other people’s records. He had written most of Waylon Jennings’ Honky Tonk Heroes. He had made his own albums. But the new thing in his life was standing beside him with a guitar. His son Eddy Shaver could play fast, loud, and mean. In 1993, father and son released Tramp on Your Street under the name Shaver. Eddy was not just backing Billy Joe up. He was the lead guitar player, the younger half of the sound, the man turning his father’s old Texas songs into something harder and electric. Somewhere in that run, they wrote “Live Forever” together. It was built like a Billy Joe Shaver song: stubborn, rough-edged, too proud to sound scared. The title did not seem like a warning then. It sounded like two Shavers doing what they always did — daring life to hit them first. Then 1999 came. Billy Joe’s wife Brenda died of cancer. His mother died that same year. Eddy was hit hard by the losses. He struggled with heroin. Billy Joe and Eddy fought, then worked their way back toward each other long enough to record The Earth Rolls On. The album was supposed to come out in 2001. But on December 31, 2000, Eddy Shaver died in Waco. He was thirty-eight. Billy Joe went onstage again. He made more records. He kept carrying “Live Forever” into rooms where Eddy’s guitar was no longer waiting behind him. Years later, Willie Nelson and Lucinda Williams recorded the song for a Billy Joe Shaver tribute album. But the song had changed long before that. Billy Joe Shaver wrote “Live Forever” with his son. Then he had to stand there and sing it after the other voice was gone.

HE WAS ON THE ROAD, TALKING TO HIS WIFE, WHEN HE SAID THE WORDS THAT WOULD TURN INTO A SONG ABOUT A MAN DYING UNDER A BRIDGE. The road had become part of the job. Airports, buses, hotel rooms, soundchecks, another city before the last one had settled in his mind. He tried to reassure her the way people on the road often do. “This is temporary,” he told her. “I’m almost home.” The phrase stayed with him. Later, Morgan and songwriter Kerry Kurt Phillips built a different story around it. Not a road song. Not a love song. A song about a homeless man lying under a bridge, cold and tired, dreaming of a woman named Jenny and a place he can finally reach. “Almost Home” did not sound like a normal radio calculation. The man in the song was not drinking in a bar, driving a truck, or trying to get a girl back. He was dying. The final turn was quiet: the police officer finds him in the morning, but the man has already gone where he believed home really was. Morgan recorded it for his 2003 album I Love It. The song became his breakthrough. It reached the country Top 10, won BMI Song of the Year recognition, and introduced a different side of Craig Morgan to listeners. They knew the soldier. They knew the working-class singer. Now they heard him telling a story about someone most people passed without seeing. Years later, Jelly Roll told Morgan that “Almost Home” had helped him through jail. That may be the strangest part of the song’s life. It began with a husband on the road trying to reassure his wife. It became a dying man’s last dream. Then it reached people in places Craig Morgan could not have imagined when he first said the words into a phone.

AT 70, BILLY JOE SHAVER SHOT A MAN OUTSIDE A TEXAS BAR. THREE YEARS LATER, WILLIE NELSON SAT IN THE COURTROOM WHILE A JURY DECIDED IF HE WOULD GO TO PRISON. By 2007, Billy Joe Shaver had already lived the kind of life that made most outlaw songs sound tame. He had written much of Honky Tonk Heroes for Waylon Jennings. He had buried his wife, his mother, and his son. He had survived a heart attack onstage at Gruene Hall. He was nearly seventy, still playing Texas rooms, still carrying the same hard edge that had made people call him an outlaw even when he preferred another word. Then, on March 31, 2007, he went to Papa Joe’s Texas Saloon in Lorena. Outside the bar, Billy Joe got into an argument with a man named Billy Bryant Coker. Shaver said Coker threatened him with a knife. Witnesses described the confrontation differently. What nobody disputed was what happened next: Billy Joe pulled a .22 pistol and shot Coker in the face. Coker survived. Shaver turned himself in days later. He was charged with aggravated assault, a case that could have sent him to prison for as long as twenty years. The old songwriter who had spent a lifetime turning fights, failures, faith, and bad decisions into songs was suddenly standing inside a Texas courtroom with his own life reduced to testimony, photographs, and one question: had he acted in self-defense? The trial came in April 2010. Willie Nelson was there. Robert Duvall was there too. Duvall testified about Billy Joe’s character and told the jury he did not believe Shaver would have fired unless he thought his life was in danger. Willie sat through the proceedings as the case moved toward its verdict. Then the jury came back. Not guilty. Billy Joe walked out of the courthouse without prison waiting behind him. He was seventy years old when the shooting happened. He had spent three years carrying the charge. And after the verdict, he went back to doing what Billy Joe Shaver always did when life nearly broke open around him. He kept moving. Most singers spend their final years protecting the legend. Billy Joe Shaver spent his standing in a courtroom while two old friends watched a jury decide whether the road had finally caught him.

LORETTA LYNN TOLD HER LITTLE SISTER NOT TO SING LIKE HER. YEARS LATER, THE WHOLE WORLD KNEW CRYSTAL GAYLE BY A VOICE LORETTA COULD NEVER HAVE MADE. Crystal Gayle was born Brenda Gail Webb in Kentucky, nineteen years after Loretta Lynn. By the time Crystal was old enough to understand what country music could do, Loretta was already gone from home, married, raising children, and beginning the climb that would turn a coal miner’s daughter into one of the biggest names in Nashville. Crystal did not grow up sharing a bedroom with Loretta or standing beside her at the kitchen table. She grew up hearing what her sister had become. That kind of family name could open a door. It could also leave a younger singer trapped in the doorway. Loretta helped Crystal get her first record deal in 1970. At first, the records leaned toward the same hard country sound Loretta had made famous. But the comparison came fast. Every song was measured against the older sister. Every note sounded like it was being asked whether it belonged to Loretta’s world. Loretta gave her a simple warning. Do not sing my songs. Do not sing anything I would sing. Crystal listened. She left the old formula behind, signed with United Artists, and began working with producer Allen Reynolds. The sound changed. Softer. Smoother. More space around the voice. It still had country in it, but it carried itself differently — closer to late-night radio than a Saturday-night honky-tonk. Then came “Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue.” Released in 1977, the song did not sound like Loretta Lynn. It did not need to. Crystal sang it with a calm that made the hurt feel almost private. No warning shot. No fist on the table. Just a woman looking at somebody she loved and realizing the leaving had already happened. The record went to No. 1 on the country chart. It crossed onto pop radio. It won Crystal a Grammy. Her album We Must Believe in Magic became the first by a female country artist to go platinum. And the long hair stayed. It fell nearly to the floor, becoming part of the image people remembered first. But the real escape had happened before the hair became famous. Crystal Gayle had kept the family name close enough to honor it. Then she built a sound no one could confuse with Loretta’s.