How to like Country

A lot of you have written to ask, what is it about Country music that I enjoy so much? How did I get into it? What on earth do I see in it? And variations on that theme.

As with many things, it's a question on finding the pleasure, learning to like it, rather than liking it immediately. You develop competencies, and also learn more about yourself. Knowing what you like can save an awful lot of wasted time.

The first thing to say is that it's almost impossible to get into Country music if you are below a certain age. You need to be, probably, on your second go around. By which I mean, you have to have at least one broken heart in your background. You have to understand what it means to have been with someone for quite a long time and then to find yourself having to cope alone. I'm not talking about your girl/boyfriend of the past 18 months; I'm talking about 5 years of your life down the drain. Sets divided, pairs split in two, empty spaces on the wall. For some people, I'm also talking about faces ripped out of photos and things you just can't do any more, or talk about, or read, or listen to. Bob Dylan once wrote, in the appropriately titled Idiot Wind, "I can't even touch the books you read."

Which is a good place to start. You'll sometimes see the line rendered as, "I can't even touch the clothes you wear." For, in spite of its appearance on one of the classic rock albums, Idiot Wind is a Country song. The things you'll find in Country lyrics are... things. Here's one that is almost archetypal, by the goddess Matraca Berg:

Yesterday at the hardware store
They said "I'm sorry, you don't have no credit anymore"
Well I walked out of there trying so hard to think
Of another way that I could fix the kitchen sink

Got into the truck and it wouldn't start
Is it any wonder that I'm falling apart?
Oh, I'm just another one
Of the things you left undone.

Well I got home and went out to get the mail
Walked back down the driveway with another pile of bills
I need a job, boy, one more than I have
Last night I fell asleep looking through the wanted ads.

Woke up this morning on the pillow you left
Laughed a little crazy as I made up the bed
It's just another one
Of the things you left undone.

I say "almost archetypal" rather than actually cliched, because Matraca really is being ironic when she puts the bit about the truck not starting in the song.

Things. Things left undone, objects left behind, possessions taken and not returned. Tear stained letters, cigarettes drowning in glasses of gin, faded photographs. Here's another fun example, from SheDaisy:

Empty hangers by the closet door
Lipstick tube on the bathroom floor
My little good-byes
Unpaid bills by the kitchen phone
I took the Beatles, left Billy Joel
[...]
Took your favorite Dodger's hat
Left the litter, but I took the cat
My little good-byes
Loaded up the TV in the back of my car
Have fun watching the VCR

And the Big Finish:

Change my voice on the machine
Or there'll be little good-byes with every ring
My little good-byes
Left the pictures and took the frame
I've got the umbrella, here comes the rain

My stock response to "What is it you like...?" has got to be, "What's not to like?" On one level, it's bubble-gum. It's commercial, poppy, bright, and yet those lyrics are right on the money.

When someone leaves you, or dies, objects take on an aura. Everyone knows this, and Country is the music of the aura. People die in Country music. You get love songs to dead people, and to dead children. It's traditional, and maudlin, and sometimes it oozes syrup. But in case you hadn't noticed, that's a pretty accurate picture of what makes people tick. Pop music about will they won't they, will she won't she, do you don't you love me etc., can only take you so far. And let's not even enter the realm of the rock stars who think they are Jesus or something.

You can be in total turmoil about that kind of stuff in your teens and twenties, and I was. But then you're older and Bad Stuff happens, and that's when the syrup hits the fan. Here's one from a Trisha Yearwood album:

I went down to Austin, lots of beautiful people there
Could have had a better adventure, I just didn't care
Got a job in California, they sure like my style
But there's something about that California sun
Reminds me of your smile

If it was just money
Baby, I could make it
But living without you
I can't take it
All I see ahead of me
Is just melancholy blue
Cause I ain't got no future without you

Now and then I go back to Biloxi
Whenever I feel brave
Visit that little country church down there
Lay some flowers on your grave
You sure got a hold on me, I don't know what to do
I ain't got no future
I can't see no future without you

You get to a certain age, and people are suddenly dying all around you, or having cancer treatment, or surgery, or affairs and divorces, and all the things that you used to think about aren't important any more. You can't look at a photo album without weeping, you can't watch some stuff on the TV, or read certain books, because there's just too much emotion bottled up in there.

So that's the lyrical and thematic side. I've already talked about production values. Put the two together, it's a powerful combination.