“Jim surrounds himself with very talented people, and he holds his own,” Crowell says. “Producing is mostly just making the right comments and right adjustments at the right time so you don’t halt the flow, and as an actor or performer, sometimes you have to trust the directions you’re getting. Jim really listened to everything I suggested. In sports talk, I guess you could say he allowed himself to be coached. That’s all anybody who is collaborating can ask for. And I think Jim had fun, and was happy with the results.”

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“Better Find a Church” got JD & the Straight Shot its best notices ever. Critic Henry Carrigan of No Depression, a quarterly for alt-country fetishists, gushed that the song showcased “the mesmerizing voices of Jim Dolan and violinist Erin Slaver.” “‘Better Find a Church’ promises the funky beauty of things to come,” Carrigan wrote. (Dolan doesn’t own No Depression.)

But as of his current tour, Dolan has apparently finally won over the critics that matter most: “My mother and father came to our show in Fort Pierce,” he says. “Now, they love my music.”

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There are other guys who have tried play rock star after striking it rich in business, even some with major league sporting connections. Dolan brought up the example of Paul Allen, the fellow billionaire who co-founded Microsoft and now owns the Seattle Seahawks and Portland Trail Blazers. Allen often throws corporate parties seemingly just so he can plug in a guitar and jam with his band, called the Underthinkers, in front of a crowd.

But Dolan says the strength of his supporting cast, and the time he’s spending in rehearsal and recording studios in Nashville—the band spent a three-day break in the Jewel tour practicing and writing there—as well as on stages in minor league towns on the road, separates him from Allen and any other affluent weekend warriors.

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“I know plenty of guys in corporate bands,” he says in the dressing room, crowded with his band, before the Lincoln Theater show. “But what we’re doing isn’t anything like what Paul does or the other guys do. This is a serious effort. Not that Paul’s not serious about his music, or these other guys aren’t serious. But we’re trying to be recognized, like a lot of other bands who want to be recognised as great artists. They’re having fun playing, but not trying to achieve what we are trying to achieve, and what we’re going to achieve.”

After delivering his mission statement, he says, loudly: “Right?”

Nods fill the room.

“If we could fill a theater like this, man, I’d be thrilled.”

“You’re here to see Jewel. We’re not her,” Dolan announces to a half-empty-but-filling Lincoln Theater crowd as his band’s warm-up set kicks off.

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Simple joke, for sure, but he delivers the punchline like a pro. The crowd of Jewel hardcores, many of whom have been in the building since her fan club meet-and-greet began two hours earlier, guffaws and claps. Dolan has brought them to his side before singing a note.

His voice is as ready as it’s gonna be. Forty-five minutes before showtime, as he always does, Dolan went through the vocal warmup exercises that Lawrence tells him he must do to keep his voice strong on the road. (“It’s the exact routine I gave to Axl seven years ago, and he’s never had a day’s issue with his voice ever since,” Lawrence says.) Dolan’s booming yet pitchy vocals are the weakest link musically, but he seems aware of his limits and only occasionally overextends his abilities. Besides, the glee he gets from leading his unplugged quintet in front of a crowd more than makes up for the intermittent sharp or flat notes.

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He tells the crowd that the idea for “Glide” came last year after watching his five-year-old son (playing a guitar isn’t the only thing Dolan’s continued to do into midlife) run and skip away from him at a school fair exuding not a care in the world, and how that sight made him wish his inner child dictated more of his behaviors. The band delivers a harmony-heavy, The Mamas & The Papas-type arrangement of the tune, whose lyrics could be taken as Dolan’s musical manifesto. (“Why do we get old and cold and grow to lose the child that’s inside?/Exchange it all for fear of being judged undignified/By doing so you lose it all, the parts that made us feel alive/release the brake that’s all it takes and you will feel yourself just glide!”) Dolan looks pretty darn pleased with his lot in life as he bangs out the song’s beat on House’s stand-up bass.

They cover “Nature’s Way,” a non-hit 1971 pro-environment single from Spirit, an L.A. band most remembered for writing the riff that Led Zeppelin stole for the opening bars of “Stairway to Heaven.” It’s a high-credibility cover song selection, highlighted by Copely’s solo and delicate chimey fills from percussionist Joe Magistro, a veteran of the Black Crowes. This ain’t a bar band.

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The longer he’s onstage, the more Dolan hams it up. Before “Find a Church,” he pokes fun at the band’s commercial irrelevance by disclosing that record industry folks assured him the single would get airplay that has yet to materialize. “If you happen to hear it on the radio, call us!” he booms as the band kicks into the song. “We want to hear it on the radio!” Some portion of the crowd giggles at the self-deprecation; within the first few bars, lots of listeners are snapping their fingers.

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During “Ballyhoo,” the new disc’s title track, he puts on a tophat, scarf, and sunglasses and breaks into the carnival barker character spelled out in the lyrics. As Copley and Slaver play the song out with a kinetic guitar/fiddle duel, Dolan steps to the rear of the stage near the drum kit, out of the spotlight, and cheers his bandmates on. This really is where he’s happiest. As Dolan predicted earlier in the day, nobody in the seats is wearing a Knicks or Rangers jersey. There will be no “Fix the Knicks” in the set.

Dolan picks his pricey McPherson guitar off its stand for the first time and strums the band into the closer, “Let It Roll.” That tune was originally recorded by Little Feat, a band that owned D.C. for a time in the 1970s, and whose frontman, Lowell George, died of a drug overdose from partying after a 1979 show at Lisner Auditorium, not too many blocks from the Lincoln Theater.

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Some portion of the now almost-full house gives JD & the Straight Shot a standing ovation as Dolan et al leave the stage. They reconvene backstage, beaming, a few minutes later, where everybody’s in a party mood but there’s nothing to OD on, save perhaps the artisanal chocolate treats sitting on a table. Dolan tells me he’s very happy with how the show went, and the audience’s attentiveness and huzzahs give him the confidence to admit he’d love for JD & the Straight Shot to top the bill next time they come to town.

“If we could fill a theater like this, man, I’d be thrilled,” he says. “I can’t imagine anything more than that.”

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That’s probably a pipe dream for a band touring behind a record that has, again, sold 113 copies. But, perhaps because it’s coming from the guy who owns Madison Square Garden, headlining the Lincoln Theater sure seems humble.

While members of the Straight Shot start packing up to leave the theater, Dolan puffs on a vape pen and checks his phone for what he says is the first time all night. “There’s a Ranger game going on right now,” he says. “We’re losing, but, that’s okay.” (His hockey team is down 3-0 after two periods of what will be a 4-1 loss to the New York Islanders.)

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Dolan then tells the troops it’s time to head out to a restaurant in Georgetown called La Chaumiere, which a young assistant has determined, after the same research she performs during every stop on the tour, has the best souffle in town. Jewel, the headliner and longtime Azoff protégé, can be heard crooning while the richest touring musician in the world and the rest of the opening band exit through a backstage door and pile into two Chevy Suburbans waiting in the gated lot behind the theater. I say goodbye and follow the big black limos into the street, humming “Better Find a Church.”