CALGARY -- George Jones has done it all on his own terms.

The legendary Texan's reputation for pursuing all of the vices that life has to offer (women, drinkin', drugs and violence) to an excessive, often self-destructive limit, is second only to his stature as one of country music's finest voices and true pioneers.

It's fitting, then, that the 71-year-old -- maybe sensing that his body and voice may not allow it soon, or having seen the fate awaiting him through friends and contemporaries such as the currently hospitalized Johnny Cash and the recently departed Waylon Jennings -- should choose to take a musical bow on his own terms, with one last farewell tour of Canada that brought him to the Saddledome last night.

But it wasn't just for Jones.

For the 6,500 or so fans who filled the 'Dome last night it was an opportunity to see -- possibly for the last time -- someone whose songs and style have influenced and affected music for half a century.

And for those lovers of good ol' fashioned honky-tonk country it was an evening that could best be described as bittersweet.

For while it was an opportunity to see the Possum live and in person, performing his many hits throughout the decades, it was an evening that was padded out with Jones merely one player in a night that should have belonged to him.

Before he'd even taken the bare-bones, country humble stage, it had already filled up with his long-time seven-piece back-up band, The Jones Boys, who played a few numbers with husband-and-wife vocalists Sherri Copeland and Barry (Muscle Car Man) Smith, came and went throughout the night.

When Jones finally climbed on stage, it furthered those mixed feelings. Vocally, Jones is understandably a shadow of what he once was.

He faded in and out during the course of a song.

But there was enough shadow, enough of that warm, ol' familiar George, to make the night a moderate success.

Helping that was The Jones Boys, who were competent without being spectacular or flashy, doing their best to complete the picture everyone had come out to see.

And, of course, Jones' between-song banter further helped remind us who we were seeing, with references to drinkin' and cheatin' and the current sad sorry state of country music, eliciting a chorus of approving roadhouse "Ya-hoos."

Again, the evening wasn't necessarily one featuring the George Jones that became a legend, but it was the legendary George Jones and that, at this point in time, was good enough for most.

The evening got off to a rather unfortunate start with "comedian" cowboy Bill Martin.

The Texan's 20-minute stand-up set was a routine suited best to those who've never seen a stand-up comedian before.

It was like having the jokes of every comic who's appeared on cable TV deluded to their least amusing level.

While not unfunny to the point of truly terrible, it was painfully familiar enough to barely crack a smile.

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