There’s nothing that ruins a piece of music quite like overproduction. And there are more ways to do that than just the ever-reviled brickwalling. See also: excessive layering, overdubbing, or whatever the proper term is. I mean, layering melody and harmony guitar solos is one thing, but to layer what sounds like the same vocal track over itself on song after song gets to be a bit much, especially on an album that otherwise would have been so much better without it. And then there’s layering so many instrumental tracks down that some songs trip over themselves because they’re so busy.
For the record, it was the new Aaron Watson album. I’m not gonna lie — I knew it’d be hard for Vaquero to measure up to The Underdog, and in some places it does, but in too many others it’s guilty of the sins I mentioned above. Just as an example, “These Old Boots Have Roots” and “Outta Style” between them take the excesses of “Rodeo Queen” (the absolute worst song from the last album) and magnify them to intolerable levels, to say nothing of the former’s clunky title and lyrics. And “Run Wild Horses” isn’t much better. I heard all these songs, and my reaction was, “this is the guy who’d rather be a fence post in Texas than the king of Tennessee, with everything that implies in relation to his music?” Maybe that’s not fair, but when you write a song about telling a Nashville record man to take his contract and blow it out his ass, that sort of thing tends to set certain expectations.
The album isn’t without its high points, and maybe it’ll grow on me much like Jason Boland’s latest, which has gotten to be a pretty regular listen. (I guess it just took me a while to come around to the genius inherent to that one.) But much like its predecessor — more so, even —Vaquero would benefited tremendously with some editing, and with 16 songs it would have been quite easy to do that. I do still think AW’s one of the good guys, though. Guess I’ll just be listening to The Underdog until the next album comes out.
Aaaand yet again, this time via Saving Country Music, WTF Dean Dillon?
You gotta understand, I live, eat, sleep and breathe songs,” Dillon says. “Where are all the great songs that I know get written in Nashville? Every song is about the same damn thing. Daisy Dukes, trucks, beer, lake banks, time, after time, after time, after time. The bro country thing started 12 years ago, and 12 years later, they’re still singing the same things. Do they not evolve? Get older? Get married? Have kids? Get jobs and shift in society? There’s no movement in it.
OK. So before I go any further, let’s just get this out of the way. Dean Dillon’s catalog of songs speaks for itself, very loudly and very clearly. He absolutely has the skins on the wall to say whatever the hell he wants about country music and be listened to.
Now, with that said, there was this from 2013:
“I hear a lot of disgruntlement going on with what’s going on in country music in today’s world,” he said. “There’s a box. And there’s some cowboys out there kicking the sides down on it right now. And stretching the boundaries. And pushing the limits. And putting new twists and turns on it. And they go out there and they play every night to these thousands and thousands of people. And they sing their songs to their generation. And that’s what it’s all about.”
Why is it that in 2013 it was “pushing the limits” and all that nonsense, but a mere four years later, it’s “12 years later, they’re still singing the same things”? He might as well have called it evolution back then too, just like all the chucklefucks singing and writing that shit were and are doing. (Such makes Dillon’s question “do they not evolve” all the more bitterly ironic, really.) I know that there are some things whose merit is only borne out with time, but there are also some things that we ought to be able to call out as bullshit right away. I mean, good grief, could we not have said right off the bat that Florida-Georgia Line and “Cruise” (or Luke Bryan and “That’s My Kind of Night”) were going to be a disaster for the genre?
Again, good for Dean for calling these sad sacks out, but where was he back in 2013?
And in other WTFery, there’s this, re: Robert Earl Keen’s “Shades of Gray”:
How? How could you not know if you actually listened to that song that he alludes to the Oklahoma City bombing? I mean, the man’s a master of not beating you over the head, but come oooon! Do people just not listen to songs anymore?
(As a postscript to that, on a related note, an image of the April 20, 1995 front page of the Dallas Morning News popped up in my news feed. On said front page was a certain picture that I really was not expecting my reaction to. I am sure you know the one, as it is the most famous photograph taken of the horrors of that day. The brain plays a nasty, mean trick on you when you’re a parent — you see your own kids in pictures of certain horrors, and it’s…it’s not pretty. Perhaps I should have expected it, as little Duncan is about that age, but there is just no hell that is hot enough for the likes of Timothy McVeigh…)