best way to banish a hot and heavy case of the mondays? with brad paisley's new album, this is country music. i've got my fresh pre-ordered copy and have already passed it on to, oh, 10+ friends. because as i always say, sharing is caring. this is brad's greatest album yet, chock full with features from carrie underwood, alabama, blake shelton, sheryl crow, don henley, clint eastwood, marty stuart and carl jackson. early frontrunners for album favorites are remind me (with carrie) and old alabama. seriously, go getcha'self a copy and spread the love.
i started reading cash: the autobiography of johnny cash several nights ago and am fully smitten. the man wrote like he spoke - straightforward, candidly and with no frills. i love when you can actually hear someone in their writing style. johnny's words were tempered with gratitude for everything around him - june, his family, "the gift" (his mom's moniker for his voice), health, happiness, jamaica (where he spent much of his time) and his upbringing. early on, i was struck by his observation in chapter two:i was talking with a friend of mine the other day: that country life as I knew it might really be a thing of the past and when music people today, performers and fans alike, talk about being "country," they don't mean they know or even care about the land and the life it sustains and regulates. they're talking more about choices - a way to look, a group to belong to, a kind of music to call their own. which begs a question: is there anything behind the symbols of modern "country," or are the symbols themselves the whole story? are the hats, the boots, the pickup trucks, and the honky-tonking poses all that's left of a disintegrating culture? back in arkansas, a way of life produced a certain kind of music. does a certain kind of music now produce a way of life? maybe that's okay. i don't know. i wonder how many people have ever filled a cotton sack. i wonder if they know that before i became 'not country' in the '90s, their predecessors were calling me 'not country' in the '50s and the '60s and the '70s too (i was invisible in the 80s)
since my musical taste breaks down to 35% chris brown, 55% country music, 10% other, i've legitimately given a lot of thought to the content of the hillbilly tunage i'm filling my ears with. and i totally understand what johnny is saying. did lady antebellum really "grow up on the side of the road where church bells ring and strong love grows"? did brad paisley actually know a "perfect little path" where he "used to hunt" so he can check me for ticks? is faith hill truly a "mississippi girl"? these questions may not plague you while listening to the soft strains of lil wayne or lady gag-me but they haunt me. okay, that's not true, but i do find myself wondering on a daily basis if they sing from experience or if they're just singing about they're cheating wife, drinking beers, lakeside sunsets and Lord and Savior to sell records. all while wearing Rock & Republics and a $199 plaid shirt. these are just the ponderings of a wandering mind. if you read yesterday's post you now know that i have a lot of time on my hands to contemplate such matters (: my point being, it may not be important to you but give a sharper listen the next time your favorite tune sneaks on the airwaves. show some serious love to those artists that sing from a place of truth and reality, no matter the genre.
