I had a brilliant topic all picked out to write about today — to correspond with the 30th anniversary of Elvis’ death. It’s been on my mind for awhile, and I was so excited to write about it. But, like just about every music-related topic, Pitchfork beat me to it.
One of my greatest pet peeves, for as long as I have evolved from Top 40, has been the prototypical answer to the grandfather of all important questions to ask somebody that you are meeting for the first time: What type of music do you listen to?
More often than not, I get some variation on the same answer:
"Ummm, well, I listen to just about everything — except country."
So, this was going to be my topic of the day. A rant, on
1) Why that’s just an overall asinine statement to make, since almost all music today has been influence in one way, or another, by country music and
2) How did country get the bad rep? How did country music end up being the guilty little secret? Why don’t people say “Oh…I umm….listen to everything except classical!” “Everything but rockabilly!” “Everything but crappy Top 40 dance hits that all sound the same!”
But, alas, Pitchfork has done that dirty work for me, so I’ll just go ahead and quote the article, that appeared earlier this year.
But, alas, Pitchfork has done that dirty work for me, so I’ll just go ahead and quote the article, that appeared earlier this year.
"For several years I've been taking a highly informal poll of friends, family members, coworkers, and random passersby, and I've discovered that the most popular answer to the question "What kind of music do you like?" is "I like everything," qualified with "except rap and country." This is unsettling. Let's set aside the possible race and class implications of that appending phrase; anyone who closes themselves off to these two genres is missing out on vast and exciting worlds of music in which territory is being explored that's foreign to indie guitar bands, squeaky clean pop acts, and dead rock idols.
Mainstream hip-hop has been filtering into indie culture for a few years, but contemporary country music has been slow to take root beyond safe alt- holdovers. Perhaps it's because the music as played by corporate radio stations is perceived to be simplistic, jingoistic, and sentimental-- which is true to an extent-- or simply because Arcade Fire fans don't want to be associated with NASCAR fans and Wal-Mart shoppers. As a result, indie faves Neko Case and Jenny Lewis are considered to be merely dabbling in country, and Tim McGraw covering "Stars Go Blue" doesn't mean Ryan Adams is the new Kris Kristofferson. Instead, older country music gets a pass, and artists like the Carter Family, Dock Boggs, and Bob Wills are perfectly acceptable to indie ears, perhaps because there was no rock'n'roll to compete with at that time or because they're so far removed from our current music climate that they don't register as country anymore. Even the next few generations of country artists have found an audience among younger listeners: Willie Nelson is a favorite due to his ceaseless experimenting, Loretta Lynn found a new audience working with Jack White, and Johnny Cash is more popular with the indie (and every other) crowd dead than he was alive.
...
Fifteen years ago, alt-country must have seemed like such a righteous undertaking, a means of reclaiming country traditions that had been forsaken by the mainstream. After all, it wasn't Nashville that made Johnny Cash an icon or helped the O Brother Where Art Thou? soundtrack sell millions of copies and win multiple Grammys. But these days it's hard to imagine Neko Case or Victoria Williams being played alongside Shania Twain, Lee Ann Womack, or even Miranda Lambert. Nashville has so firmly delineated the terms and definitions of country music (along business as well as musical lines) that anyone who doesn't fit the camera-ready criteria doesn't stand much of a chance of getting heard on mainstream outlets. But the blame goes both ways: alt-country artists seem to have ceded the popular audience to the hat acts, remaining content to work the smaller alt-circuits and build modest cult audiences. Their fans have in turn established an us-vs.-them attitude that at worst cuts off all dialogue with the mainstream and at best just makes it a one-way street. McGraw has covered Adams, but it's doubtful Adams will reciprocate (although, who knows? He might just to spite me)."
End quote!
I love my alt-country. I love traditional country music — and sadly enough, lately, I've been listening to my fair share of sappy new-country music (nothing mends a broken heart like country music!). I'm sure there are books and books to be written on the evolution of country music/country music fans/mainstream distaste for it. But instead, I'll end this with an ode to the King, who without country music, never would have been the King of Rock and Roll, and without the King of Rock and Roll, who knows where music would be today.
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