Jackson, Rimes Are in Need of a Little Sharing

If only . . . .

That thought came to mind frequently during the Alan Jackson and LeAnn Rimes pairing Friday at the sold-out Universal Amphitheatre.

If only the laid-back Jackson had some of the teenager’s vitality and if only Rimes could match Jackson’s ability to convince you that she has lived through the songs she’s singing.

Jackson was the night’s headliner and ultimately the more satisfying performer, but he tends to be so understated, both in his singing and in his manner between songs, that Rimes had every chance to steal the show.

After all, this young Texan, who is blessed with exceptional vocal purity and command, has sold more albums so far this year than anyone else in all of pop. And she can be delightful on a playful number such as ‘I Want to Be a Cowboy’s Sweetheart.”

More often, however, Rimes is bland emotionally. Rather than struggle to find the heart of a song, she comes across as someone satisfied with simply hitting the right notes.

Rimes became a star last year because she sings the song “Blue” exactly the way most people would imagine the late Patsy Cline singing it, complete with a touch of yodel. In truth, Cline was too original a stylist to have turned in such a predictable interpretation. More likely, she would have given the song a pulse of its own.

That’s the difference between artistry and professionalism, and it’s the challenge Rimes faces. But maybe her “Blue” is all you can expect of someone who has yet to blow out the 16th candle on her birthday cake.

Jackson, who is in his late 30s, is a solid writer and singer who is at his best when he leans on the blue-collar, honky-tonk tradition of Merle Haggard. His “Here in the Real World,” part of a tasty acoustic set Friday, is a ‘90s country standout.

Unfortunately, Jackson’s artistry over an entire concert is as unassuming as his personality. Whether on the old rocker “Summertime Blues” or his own tunes, he tends to stay within country’s commercial boundaries.

To live up to the promise of his best moments, Jackson needs to at least occasionally test those boundaries. If not, he, too, may look back someday on his hit body of work and wonder, “If only . . . ,” himself.