tuxedoclad

Nothing must threaten the family demographic, so no Steve Earle, no David Allan Coe and no “no-show” Jones, let alone that jackass Beck. No conflict. No danger. In short, no bloody fun. And so, in order to pursue our enquiry as to from whence this music sprang, and where it is possibly going, let us start as far away as possible from the tuxedoclad suburbs of modern Nashville, and hopefully stay away. True country springs up when it’s least expected, or even much wanted.

2012, Brian Hinton, “Chapter One: Will the Circle Be Unbroken?”, in Country Roads: How Country Came to Nashville, →ISBN

He was accompanied by the well-known Icelandic pianist David Thór Jónsson, who provided virtuoso performances between two camp beds borrowed from a local boarding school. The tuxedoclad artist sang earnestly of unrequited love while viewers shuffled through the shed, chattering among themselves, or lounging (and napping) on the camp beds.

2025, Eva Heisler, “Doubled Bodies and Live Loops: On Ragnar Kjartanssons's Mediatized Performances”, in Bastard or Playmate?: Adapting Theatre, Mutating Media and the Contemporary Performing Arts, →ISBN

When James Bond played a straight flush against Le Chiffre in Casino Royale, he looked cool. Very cool. The odds of such a hand? One in 72,192, or a probability of just 0.00139 per cent. But this tuxedoclad, odds-defying image of gambling is misleading. In the UK, gambling is more likely to take place on a smartphone than in a glamorous Monte Carlo casino.

2025 May 23, Harry Quilter-Pinner, A gambling levy could be a fiscal ace up the sleeve, The New Statesman