Grammy Sweep King, Christopher Cross, Still Doing it With Style.

by Dave Parsons

There are artists who explode onto the scene with all the subtlety of a Led Zeppelin power chord, and then there’s Christopher Cross. When the 73-year-old singer-songwriter took the stage at The Pavilion at Star Lake for the middle slot of this unlikely triple bill, he did so with the same quiet confidence that made him the most improbable superstar of 1980. That was the year he swept the Grammy Awards and virtually invented adult contemporary radio as we know it.

No pyrotechnics, no grand gestures, just a man and his songs and the kind of musical sophistication that seems almost quaint in our current cultural moment. For the next 45 minutes, Cross would remind 15,000 people why craftsmanship still matters, why melody is eternal, and why some songs are built to last forever.

Cross opened with All Right, and within the first few bars, something magical happened. The restless summer crowd, many of whom had been waiting for Toto’s headlining set, suddenly went quiet. This wasn’t the kind of quiet you get when an audience is being polite. This was the kind of quiet you get when people recognize they’re in the presence of something special.

The song, a sophisticated blend of rock and pop from his debut album, benefited from four decades of refinement. His voice, while showing its age, retained the warm intimacy that made him a star, but now carried the weight of experience. This wasn’t nostalgia. This was evolution.

Never Be the Same followed, showcasing Cross’s ability to write about romantic obsession. The song’s complexity demonstrated why Cross won five Grammy Awards in 1981.  It is a feat unmatched before or since.

Everyone was waiting for Sailing, and Cross knew it. The opening chords arrived like an old friend bearing news from a better world, and the response was immediate. From the lawn to the pavilion seats, 15,000 voices joined in on the chorus, creating one of those magical concert moments where performer and audience become a single entity.

What made the performance special wasn’t just its nostalgic appeal, but the recognition that this is simply a great song, possibly one of the greatest ever written. Its harmony, lyrics, melody, and meaning are the qualities that separate real songwriting from mere commercial product. Cross’s performance was both reverent and relaxed, honoring the song’s place in American culture while allowing for subtle reinterpretations that kept it feeling fresh.

This next song won me an Oscar, Cross announced before launching into Arthur’s Theme (Best That You Can Do).  The crowd roared its approval.  It’s not every day a guy from San Antonio somehow manages to write the perfect theme song for a Dudley Moore comedy and turn it into something so appealing.

At 73, Cross’s voice has inevitably changed from the pristine instrument that conquered radio in 1980. But what it’s lost in range, it’s gained in character.  This isn’t to say that Cross sounded old or tired. Rather, he sounded like an artist who has lived with these songs long enough to understand them. The audience seemed to understand this instinctively. These weren’t casual fans looking for a quick nostalgia fix; these were people who had grown up with these songs, who had carried them through decades of marriages and divorces, triumphs and disappointments. Cross’s performance honored that relationship, treating his catalog not as museum pieces but as living documents that continue to reveal new meanings with each passing year.

It’s worth remembering just how unprecedented Cross’s 1981 Grammy sweep was. Best New Artist, Record of the Year, Song of the Year, Album of the Year, and Best Arrangement Accompanying Vocalist.  All of those for a guy who had been playing the Austin club circuit just two years earlier. No artist had ever won all five major categories in a single year, and none has since.

I remember the backlash was immediate and brutal. Rock critics dismissed him as schmaltz, while purists found his music too commercial. But time was kind to his legacy. His songs have become standards, and Cross continues to influence, as evidenced by the recent resurgence of interest in yacht rock. Cross essentially invented the genre.

The between-song banter was minimal but effective. Cross isn’t a flashy showman, but his charm lies in his obvious sincerity. When he introduced Think of Laura, with a brief story about its soap opera origins, he managed to be both self-deprecating and proud, acknowledging the song’s genesis while celebrating it had a deeper meaning and origin.

Perhaps the most telling moment came during No Time for Talk, when Cross closed his eyes and seemed to disappear into the music entirely. For three minutes, he was alone with his song and his guitar, and the 15,000 people in the audience were privileged witnesses to something approaching the sacred.

Cross’s set concluded with Ride Like the Wind, bringing the performance full circle with his breakthrough hit.  As Christopher Cross left the stage at The Pavilion at Star Lake, he did so with the same quiet dignity that has characterized his entire career. No grand gestures, no dramatic exits, just a professional musician who had done his job with skill and integrity. In an industry that often rewards flash over substance, Cross has consistently chosen the more difficult path of letting the music speak for itself.

As the stage was reset for Toto’s headlining performance, many conversations overheard in the concession lines and restroom queues consistently praised his performance, with many expressing surprise at how many of his songs they loved, but had somehow forgotten. This wasn’t just nostalgia talking, but rather visiting a better time in their lives that they appreciated.

CHRISTOPHER CROSS SETLIST   July 24, 2025

1. All Right
2. Never Be the Same
3. I Really Don’t Know Anymore
   (Followed by band introductions)
4. Sailing
5. Think of Laura
6. Arthur’s Theme (Best That You Can Do)
7. The Light Is On
8. No Time for Talk
9. Ride Like the Wind