Monday, May 26, 2014

So Ya Wanna Make A Country Record? Better Get A Truck!

These days, if yer a dude and yer dream is to kiss those sellout asses on Music Row and open up for country music legends like Dirks Bentley or Carrie Underwood, then all ya gotta do is follow a certain formula.  It makes no difference if you rap, croon or twang - if ya sing about jacked up trucks, ice cold beer and painted on jeans, then you, my Rascal Flatts wannabe buddy, will be famous.  Don't forget the ballcap, wallet chain and the aviators too.....   fukkers.

Where is all the gawdam creativity?  The lonesome whipporwhills?  The cheatin' women?  The midnight trains?  The hell mama raised?  Is it all gone?  YUP!  Seems so.  It's not like it's a bad thing to sing about trucks, beers and fine country asses.  Don't get me wrong... the overall theme is pretty pissa!  Cuz there IS something about a truck in a field with girl in a red sundress with an ice cold beer to her lips beggin' for another kiss.  It's just that EVERY FUKKIN HIT in 2013 had the same fukkin' ingredients.  Dropped tailgates, dirt roads and moonlit skinny dippin'.  

I long for the days when country music was deep, poignant, meaningful.  Songs delivered messages like "never name your boy Sue" and "wooden Indians never get a kiss" and "hey good lookin', whatcha got cookin'?"   I'm talkin steel guitar, stand up bass, paint brush snare and lyrics that shaped a generation.  If it were not for country music, would we ever know that the only two things in life that make it worth living are guitars tuned good and firm feeling women?  And I don't think I ever would have heard of places like Butcher Holler or Wolverton Mountain or Folsom Prison.  

Country music critic Grady Smith took the time to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that every country music hit last year was exactly the same... one part truck, one part girl, 12 parts beer mixed together in a crick bed off a dirt road.   YAWN...

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