Jeff Spevak: Tim McGraw in concert at CMAC Friday

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ROC 0529 MCGRAW

Hard to believe, but Tim McGraw is well into his third decade as a country-music star. Yet over that time, we're also discovering that the familiar hat doesn't quite fit.

Oh, McGraw has dozens of country hits, too many to fit into Friday's show at Constellation Brands-Marvin Sands Performing Arts Center. "It's a blessing and a curse at the same time," he says. "A curse because you're not gonna play everything, and some people will be disappointed. A blessing because you're never gonna do the same tour twice. You're always gonna have a bigger pot of music to dig from."

He and Faith Hill are probably country music's first, and certainly biggest-selling, couple. He's a fit-looking 47, peeling off 40 pounds through a new-found sobriety and hefty workouts, including martial arts. He's evolved into a legit TV and movie star. He has the compelling personal story, a kid growing up in a dysfunctional family who accidentally discovers that his biological dad was actually a star Major League Baseball player. And he's committed hundreds of acts of charity. Big events, like raising money for victims of Hurricane Katrina in his native Louisiana and Hill's home state of Mississippi. Small, heartwarming ones, like writing a check for $5,000 to the 3-year-old daughter of a policeman killed in the line of duty.

But something about Tim McGraw doesn't ring Nashville in quite the way as Toby Keith and "Courtesy of the Red, White, & Blue" does. Maybe it's because McGraw famously sided with the Dixie Chicks when he criticized "the leader of the free world" — at the time, that was George Bush — for not showing more interest in rebuilding the Katrina-savaged Gulf Coast.

McGraw isn't the first musician to go to court to free himself of a record deal he didn't like. But the aptly named Two Lanes of Freedom from 2013, his first since splitting from Curb Records, demonstrated a musical restlessness that makes Nashville uneasy. And he promises that Sundown Heaven Town, to be released in September, will be more of the same. He describes the recording process as "like pouring water down a hill, and watching the path it takes."

"I see things in sound and colors. When I record, I paint this mosaic of color in my mind."

And what colors will Sundown Heaven Town be?

"Red. And kind of an ocean-foam color."

For much of his career, McGraw was pouring down more than water on a hill. Hard-drinking songs are a country tradition, but he stopped in 2008. "It was becoming too much of a habit, I was beginning to be too accepting of it," he says. "Too many drinks before going onstage, letting the party afterward linger too long. Plus, after you have kids, you need to start a platform to stand on when you start talking to them about things, and their own choices in life."

McGraw himself was on shaky footing from the start. For the first 11 years of his life, he was actually Tim Smith, son of Horace Smith. "He could be boisterous and loud and fun," McGraw says. "He also had a drinking problem, and was physically abusive. It was two different worlds, and it was tough for my mom. It's something to remember as you ponder your own life."

McGraw's parents divorced when he was in the fourth grade. He was 11 when he was rummaging around in the closet, looking for Christmas presents, when he came across his birth certificate and discovered that Horace Smith was actually his stepfather. His biological father was Tug McGraw, who had been a minor-league pitcher living downstairs from a waitress named Betty Ann D'Agostinoa. She went on to become Tim's mother, he went on to become a relief pitcher with the Mets and a World Series hero of the Philadelphia Phillies. Two people on two different paths.

"We never really had a close relationship," the son admits. But they did have a few opportunities to meet and over time, even as Tug was dying of brain cancer, the relationship solidified. One of the son's biggest hits, "Live Like You Were Dying," was dedicated to Tug.

Perhaps it's because Tim McGraw had a rough life growing up. Perhaps it would have happened anyway. But McGraw does flex his humanity. "I'm fortunate because I have a platform because of what I do for a living," he says. "And when you do, it is incumbent on you to do the best you can with it."

A few years ago, he was even talking about running for office. "Probably back when I was drinking," he jokes. "I have too many skeletons in my closet."

But really, concedes McGraw — a Democrat, a rare bird in the country crowd — could he get anything done in today's hostile environment?

"With all of the media and social media, the constant coverage, it makes it sort of impossible to negotiate," he says. "Because you're constantly under a microscope as a decision maker. Making good policies for people is always negotiation."

One of the songs in that big pot of music McGraw has to dig from is "Indian Outlaw," his first big hit, from the 1994 album Not a Moment Too Soon. The song was criticized then as a patronizing caricature of Native Americans. Considering the anger generated in the past year against the nickname of the National Football League team in Washington, the critics' view of the song has likely not eased.

Yet "Indian Outlaw" has not been displaced in the McGraw set list by newer compositions.

"I understand people have problems with it, and I don't begrudge them for it," McGraw says. "But I still have the same opinion on it now that I had back then: Look, if my song can give you a platform to be heard, I think it's a good thing. If it creates awareness, that creates an opportunity for people to change their opinions."

The discussion is a good thing, even if you disagree with the outcome.

"If it retains traction in the modern era, maybe people are having the opportunity to learn," McGraw says. "And change their opinions. People look at that as a bad thing. But we're all supposed to learn and progress. Sometimes changing your mind is a good thing."

If you go

What: Tim McGraw, Kip Moore and Cassadee Pope.

When: 7 p.m. Friday.

Where: Constellation Brands-Marvin Sands Performing Arts Center, on the campus of Finger Lakes Community College, near Canandaigua.

Tickets: $60.50 and $85.50 for the pavilion, lawn $33 advance, $38 the day of the show, available at ticketmaster.com, (800) 745-300 and the Blue Cross Arena box office.

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