Blake Shelton Tips His Hat to King George with “All My Ex’s Live in Texas” in Las Vegas
You don’t just touch a George Strait classic lightly—unless you’re Blake Shelton, standing under the Vegas lights, grinning like a man about to raise some hell and honor a legend all in one breath.
During his February residency at The Colosseum at Caesars Palace, Blake gave the crowd more than just his hits. He gave them George. And not in a throwaway, between-songs kind of way—he went all in. Right in the middle of that high-gloss Vegas stage, he nodded to the King of Country and delivered one of the most beloved country songs of all time, the only way Blake Shelton could: part tribute, part mischief, all heart.
Before a single note rang out, he set the tone with that trademark blend of cockiness and humor. “There’s no way I’m gonna stand up here and sing a song about George Strait in Texas without singing a song by George Strait about Texas.” The crowd erupted. Everyone knew exactly what was coming. That first line is carved into every country fan’s brain: All my ex’s live in Texas…
He could’ve played it straight, note for note like George. But Blake doesn’t do carbon copies. Instead, he leaned into his Oklahoma charm, letting the lyrics breathe with a wink and a smirk. He didn’t try to outshine the original—he played it with respect, but also with the looseness of a guy who knows he’s stepping into sacred territory and doesn’t mind poking fun at himself while he’s there.
The band eased into the song with that signature steel guitar swing, lacing a little Vegas gloss into the honky-tonk grit. The result? A version that felt both familiar and fresh, like hearing it in a new light without losing what made it a legend in the first place.
It’s been nearly four decades since George Strait first put that song on the map, giving country fans a cheeky anthem about failed romances and Lone Star living. Back then, it was all swagger and subtle heartbreak, written by Whitey Shafer like a half-true confession and turned into a jukebox staple from Austin to Amarillo.
Blake knew better than to try and outdo that. He wasn’t trying to. What he did was exactly what makes Blake Shelton Blake Shelton—he had fun with it, gave it his flavor, and let the crowd take the ride with him.
And when he hit that final chorus, you could feel it—the nod to George, the grin that said, “this one’s for the dance halls,” and the unspoken reminder that these songs don’t fade. They live on, not because they’re old, but because they still hit where it counts.
Blake didn’t claim the King’s crown that night. He didn’t need to. He just reminded a sold-out room that George’s legacy is still alive and kicking—echoing down Las Vegas Boulevard with a little Oklahoma edge.
And as the lights dimmed and folks filed out into the night, you just know more than a few were humming that hook, maybe thinking about their own past loves tucked away back in Texas. Some songs never go out of style. Not when Blake Shelton’s got the mic and a little bit of Strait in his soul.