Toby Keith Covel (July 8, 1961–February 5, 2024), better known as Toby Keith, was an American musician, singer, songwriter, actor, and record producer.
Before leaving Mercury Records in 1998, he released his first four studio albums—Toby Keith in 1993, Boomtown in 1994, as well as a Greatest Hits package.
These albums were all certified Gold or higher and produced several Top Ten singles like his debut “Should’ve Been a Cowboy,” which topped the country charts and became the most-played country song of the 1990s.
Toby Keith, the bigger-than-life singer-songwriter of No. 1 country hits like “Who’s Your Daddy?” and “Made in America” and one of Nashville’s biggest stars in three decades, died on Monday. He was 62. His death was announced via his official website.
Mr. Keith’s publicist, Elaine Schock, confirmed in an email that he had died in Oklahoma, where he had spent his entire life.
Mr. Keith disclosed in the summer of 2022 that he had been confirmed to have stomach cancer and was undergoing chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery.
View this post on InstagramThe Rodeo Showdown Between Toby Keith and the Dixie Chicks
In the wild universe of down-home music shows, the conflict between Toby Keith and the Dixie Chicks in 2003 resembled a rodeo standoff with guitars rather than ropes.
Everything began with a flash from the blunt troublemaker Natalie Maines, who got straight to the point when she proclaimed her humiliation over President Bush’s Texas establishes while in front of an audience in London.
Her comments lighted a fierce blaze of discussion, diverting the Dixie Chicks from graph-beating dears to the most infamous band this side of the Mississippi.
In the interim, Toby Keith, the cowboy cap-wearing hero of energetic tunes, focused on Maines with all the nuance of a rushing crowd. He put her photograph close to Saddam Hussein’s at his shows, essentially marking her as a public foe.
However, the Dixie Chicks weren’t the ones to withdraw. They stripped down — allegorically and in a real sense — for Entertainment Weekly after week, rebelliously splattered in paint and explaining words like “big mouth” and “traitors.”
Amid the disorder, Dale Carter, the morning maestro of KFKF Kansas City, rang in with his opinion, noticing that a straightforward conciliatory sentiment might have reversed the situation. Yet, Maines, with her Texas-sized backbone, multiplied down on her position, really taking advantage of the critics like a thumb in a boot.
As the fight seethed on, it was Toby Keith who chose to fight the bull by the horns and shut down the encounter.
Learning of a shocking misfortune in Keith’s camp — a musician’s kid capitulated to malignant growth — he had a shift in perspective quicker than a two-venturing rancher in a line dance.
In an epiphany, Keith understood the pointlessness of the quarrel. “Enough is enough,” he proclaimed, hanging up his prods and canceling the standoff.
It was a move that shocked many, yet looking back, it was a demonstration of Keith’s mankind amid the tornado of contention.
It was an instance of creative contrasts dramatically overemphasized, leaving scars further than the Great Canyon. Eventually, the quarrel flamed out like a pit fire in a rainstorm, abandoning a path of broken strings and wounded self-images.
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