Wednesday music musings.

How timely. I stopped in the Bill Miller’s downtown at St. Mary’s & Pecan for my morning coffee today and heard a certain song, and just now I saw this on Saving Country Music:

The only reason Luke Bryan’s “That’s My Kind Of Night” is a #1 song is because bored suburban moms and their daughters want to fuck him. Luke Bryan’s music has the nutritional value of notebook paper, and is the clinical result of when an entertainer spreads his arms wide in a submissive pose and relents his entire will to the country music industrial complex, saying “Do your worst.”

And you can believe me when I say the song is every bit as bad I got the idea it was. Let’s just say the much-(justly) maligned line “a little Conway, a little T-Pain” was by far the least of that song’s sins. I mean, I thought Blake Shelton’s “Boys ‘Round Here” was bad, but this…this just takes it to a whole new level. “Conway and T-Pain” sans the Conway, to paraphrase the Triggerman. Not that I thought he was wrong when he talked about the “merging” of rap and country, but just…man. It’s so bad they don’t even make the words. So, so many times I ask myself anymore, “What happened to my country music?” I mean, I knew the day would come when, to cite two examples, George Strait was gonna go home to his Texas ranch for good and the hits would level off for Alan Jackson. It happens with every generation of artists. But up until now, there have always been people to keep the flame alive. We don’t have that now. I truly do despair for country music’s future. I honestly don’t think there is going to be anyone to carry the traditional country music torch forward, at least not on a mainstream level.

And at the end of the day, I guess that’s not the end of the world or the genre anymore. But country music and its real fans deserve so much more than this shit.



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