I was at this house party a few months ago that was hosted by guys fresh out of college who were just settling into the steady trudge of weekday slouching and weekend drinking and laughing and falling asleep at around ten thirty. I was on the couch, and sitting next to me was this guy I’d never met before. We were both drinking and half-listening to the Bjork coming out of the speakers (I insisted at the beginning of the party to be the DJ; I was refused and everyone had to converse with the worst possible drinking music in the world playing softly behind) and I tried to strike up some talk. I asked him what school he was in (York), what year (5th) and if he liked Bjork (not so much). He asked me what kind of stuff I was into, and I went into the incoherent babble I always do when I try to explain my tastes. He shook his head and said a stoners’ “Okay.” Then I asked him the same thing, and I received this: “Oh, you know, anything. Anything but country.”
The fact is, this line is on the lips of so many people out there. People will admit to enjoying every single genre of music except country, and unless you’re at a country bar or in your mom’s minivan, this answer is nearly everywhere. As it is with all of my quandaries, the answer is obvious but the philosophy behind it reaches deep. The simple answer to why people will refuse to acknowledge country music is because country music is bad music. At least, that’s what they all have in their heads. The problem with this is that everyone (and I mean every single person who has ever lived outside of a village where the main job descriptions are hunt and gather) is a fan of country music, and that they simply don’t know it because the categorization of country music is worse than the categorization of modern literature; everything that fits into the mold is let in, while anything that deviates even slightly from the strict code of country music song writing is left largely ignored, or worse, categorized with the adult contemporary crowd.
Pop music is, as it always will be, to blame for every problem that the music world has right now. Watching Ray last year was a startling reminder that the music world hasn’t always been full of cardboard cutouts and flavorless clones. When Ahmet, the record producer, suggests that Ray Charles sounds too much like Nat King Cole and that the music world does not need another Nat King Cole, he was unconsciously commenting upon exactly what’s wrong with pop music today. The fact is that we don’t need another Jennifer Lopez or Tupac or Puff Daddy or Madonna or Robbie Williams. We already have these people, and American Idol, as well as the executives at the major labels, should stop finding people that sing and dance and act identical to them. Most importantly, they need to stop finding people that sing exactly like Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood, because the business of producing these people’s records has ruined what real people think of country music.
The line of thinking makes great business sense, however. “If Reba MacEntire sold X units, then Leanne Rhymes will sell XXXX because she’s younger, sexier, and will appeal to a greater demographic. Also, we don’t have to pay her as much because she isn’t an established star yet. And when she asks for a raise, dump her contract and get someone else who will sing our songs and smile at the camera.” Not that Leanne Rhymes isn’t a great singer (and hot, too) but there’s a thousand equally talented girls waiting to tear each other apart to get where she is. All a record producer has to do is point his finger and set up a chequing account and he’s got another one. This is the world of pop music, and the beginnings of why people don’t like “country music.” The reason the guy at that party and all my friends and everyone I’ve ever asked this question to adds the part about country is that pop country is the exact same three songs repeated a zillion times. The first is “She’s in Love With the Boy” by Trisha Yearwood (the great grandaughter of “Stand by your man”), followed by “Thunder Rolls” by Garth Brooks, and finally “Any Man of Mine” by Shania Twain. Just about every song on the top 40 country charts follows the path of one of those songs. Either the song is about loving a guy (or girl) to the point of nauseated sentiment, or it’s about the dwindling cliche of being a cowboy, or it’s about being too good for a guy (or a girl, but only when it comes to rappers who eventually turned into country stars. More on them later). It’s repetitive, it’s sad (but not in the way country music should be), and it’s lazy, and when you think about it that way then it’s no question as to why someone who isn’t really into country wants nothing to do with it. The stuff is about as appealing as hearing another remix of Nelly’s “Hot in Herre.”
I just had a conversation with my grandmother, who swears by country music. I played her “I’m Lonely (but I ain’t that Lonely yet)” and “Little Ghost” off the new White Stripes album, and asked her if she thought it was country. She thought “Little Ghost” was maybe a little bluegrass, but not really, and that the piano in “I’m lonely” was too heavy to call it country. Now, I hate to argue with my grandma, but I’m not sure it’s possible for a piano to rock too much. By this definition, the howls of the piano in “Thunder Rolls” would disqualify it, but now that I think about it, she might agree on that as well. She’s into classic country, which has about as much to do with pop country as Cyndi Lauper does with Ashanti. While talking to her, however, something became clear; fans of country protect their genre with iron fists. There’s a stalemate here that I’m not sure anybody fully sees; fans of country won’t allow songs that don’t exactly fit their criteria into the genre as a whole, and because of this, non-fans will never admit to liking country because the routine pop stuff is all recycled filth and completely alienating. As well, fans of the classic country (like my grandma) won’t even admit pop country into the fold, let alone any of the artists and songs I’m about to mention. To the classic fans, the genre is closed, and no new applicants need apply. That is, it’s closed to everyone except Kid Rock.
In 2002 Kid Rock put out a mixed-bag of a record called “Cocky” that featured a duet with Sheryl Crow called “Picture” that was so popular it set his career on a republican fire and down a road he has since yet to return. This song was a complete surprise to the entire country, let alone country music industry. Wasn’t this the guy who hung out with Fred Durst? Didn’t he portray himself as a pimp back in the 90’s? Wasn’t he dating Pamela Anderson? Nothing about the situation made sense. All anybody knew was that this Kid Rock fellow wrote a great country ballad and every radio station—rock, country, or otherwise—would have to play it on the hour for the entire year. And you know what? It was a damn good song written by a guy who clearly knew something about country music that the record execs—too busy finding the next person to sing their songs about being better than the boys, apparently—didn’t.
Classical music may be about what chords and structures are used when defining pieces into different categories, but modern music—on the whole, anyways—doesn’t. It’s defined by a plethora of vague terminologies that lack any central agreed definition, which is largely the reason that message boards exist. All modern music should really be defined by how it feels. Punk rock is not four guys jamming three chords into guitars and singing about how tough life is; it’s about desiring freedom from convention with no consequence, and after pointing out exactly why this is most people will agree with you that The clash are punk rock and Three Days Grace are not. What I’m suggesting is that perhaps country music should do the same. Instead of basing the definition on how the music is done, it should be changed to what the song stands for. In the place of contemporary twang and cloning should stand substance, meaning, and a very real idea of what country is and isn’t. I’m not saying that some artists claiming to be country aren’t (though fans of old country would certainly love to point some fingers towards one Toby Keith); what I’m suggesting is that maybe country music should stop being a cowboy-hat only country club.
Quite simply, the only rules for being a country song should be 1) the song must be a story, or at least have a concept for a story, and 2) the song structure must be relatively simple. The idea that to be a country song it has to have twang and the singer has to have a cowboy hat and the decibel level can’t be greater than .2 is ludicrous and should be buried with the other fossils like “grunge=plaid.” I realize I have little authority on the rule book of musical genres, but I’m pretty sure nobody will argue this point with me. For country, it’s the simplicity and the story that are important; the image is little more than sugar and frosting. Anyone who disagrees with this need to look no further than Johnny Cash. The man in black has had many images over the years, but his most prominent is as a cold hearted bad ass who will kill you for no reason other than to watch you die. His image is largely punk rock, but his music is country. Furthermore, his last five albums were covers of rock songs from artists like U2 and Nine Inch Nails.
Enforcing a rule like this immediately changes the entire face of the genre. Let into the fold are not only aspects of the White Stripes but also that amazing Loretta Lynn album from last year that Jack White produced. As well, Bruce Springsteen would be classified as country, as would Tom Waits, Beck, Aimee Mann, Jeff Buckley, and Bright Eyes, among many others. Rilo Kiley could finally have a real genre—instead of always being referred to as “that band that rocks but is sort of country-ish but cooler than all those other bands that try to mix rock and country”—and so could Eels, Ryan Adams, and the late Joe Strummer. This brings me back to my original point. Everyone loves country music, they just don’t know that the stuff they’re loving—be it Morrissey or Damien Rice or Elliot Smith—is actually country. The reason to which they didn’t is the same reason they thought that “country” was stupid. The fact is, everybody is wrong. Country music is great, but nobody really knew what it was.
I’ve come up with this definition based on the feeling I get when I listen to something I think is country, and I think that it’s pretty common sense to go with your gut when it comes to categorizing music. If you think that Toby Keith is country because he’s patriotic and plays a steel guitar then by all means do so. If you think that Bright Eyes isn’t country because—even though he sings about truth and love and loss and does it in the most awkward, heartbroken way—he uses too many variances in his structure and sometimes explores digital feedback and desperate screaming to get his point across, that’s fine, too. The categorization of music is the most subjective thing in the industry, but it’s not nearly as important in the big picture as whether you think an artist is good. I think we spend far too much time on the former and not enough on the latter.
Hey, just for fun, think about this new definition of country and slowly realize just how much hip hop fits in there, and how now you can pester your parents to play Wyclef Jean in the Caravan because it’s real country and Shania Twain is just candy pop.
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NEWS
There’s already two perfectly good documentaries about Buckley. Why not three?
Buckley film in the works
Writer-producer Train Houston has secured the rights to a film biography on the lives of the legendary father and son, Tim and Jeff Buckley to be called Dream Brother: The Lives & Music of Jeff and Tim Buckley. The screenplay was written by Entertainment Weekly music critic David Browne who also wrote a 2001 book about the Buckley’s lives.
The younger of the two, Jeff Buckley, is said to be the focal point of the script with the elder merely appearing in flashbacks.
Credit – Indieworkshop
And speaking of the White Stripes and categorizing them…
THE WHITE STRIPES HIT BACK AT ‘COUNTRY’ CLAIMS
JACK WHITE has hit out at claims that THE WHITE STRIPES’ new record ‘GET BEHIND ME SATAN’ sounds like country legend LORETTA LYNN.
The singer produced Lynn’s last album ‘Van Lear Rose’ last year as well as playing guitar, piano, organ, percussion and adding his backing vocals to the project.
Lynn previously praised White, calling him “quite a producer”.
But White has now said: “A lot of people say that ‘Little Ghost’ is so Loretta Lynn. But that’s bluegrass – Loretta is definitely not bluegrass. I don’t know why they don’t say (it sounds like) my work with the ‘Cold Mountain’ soundtrack – that would be a better guess because that was closer to stuff like that.”
In an interview with Fader magazine, he added: “If my work with Brendan Benson came out before they’d be saying that that sounds like it. But it’s not that simple – if you’re talking about me, then you may as well go back and say some of the songs are influenced by The Go, the band I was in 98′ or whatever.
“I’m not like ‘Because I did that one thing with Loretta Lynn I’m only interested in country music right now and I’m only going to write country songs’. No, I’m more likely to write something like ‘Blue Orchid’ after working with Loretta.”
The White Stripes headline Friday night at this year’s Glastonbury festival (June 24).
Credit – NME
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LINKS
Michael Chadwick keeps going on the category history lesson as he digs through the quirky little genre known as Shoegazer.
Shawn M Smith waxes on New York for pretty well all the same reasons that I love Toronto.
Aaron Cameron thinks I look like Barry Zito. You know, I’m perfectly all right with not getting a reference from Major League Baseball.
And yes, I get it, the formatting for the short story last week had shit for formatting. I went back and fixed it in case anyone wants to give it a second chance.
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Lyrics To Live By
Video – Aimee Mann, from The Forgotten Arm
Tell me why I feel so bad, honey
TV’s flat and nothing is funny
I get sad and stuck in a cone of silence
Like a big balloon with nothing for ballast
Labeled like a bottle for Alice
Drink me down or I’ll drown in a sea of giants
And tell me, “Baby, baby, I love you
It’s nonstop memories of you
It’s like a video of you playing
It’s all loops of seven-hour kisses
Cut with a couple near-misses
Back to the scene of the actor saying:
‘Tell me, baby, baby – why do I feel so bad?'”
Tell me why I feel so bad, honey
Fighting left me plenty of money
But didn’t keep the promise of memory lapses
Like a building that’s been slated for blasting
I’m the proof that nothing is lasting
Counting to eleven as it collapses
And tell me, “Baby, baby, I love you
It’s nonstop memories of you
It’s like a video of you playing
It’s all loops of seven-hour kisses
Cut with a couple near-misses
Back to the scene of the actor saying:
‘Tell me, baby, baby – why do I feel so bad?'”
Baby, baby, I love you
Baby, baby, I love you
But baby, I feel so bad
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I don’t normally call out to my readers, but if you can, email me the name of the artist you consider “Home”. By this, I mean the artist you can go to anytime, no matter what, and their music will make you feel better. You know what I’m talking about. They’ve been with you through good times and bad, and everything in between. Next week’s column will talk about these artists and what they mean to us.
Party on, Garth.
