I was born in the country -- and we're talking about a town with no streetlights, no cute country store and no yellow lines on the streets. At least they are paved. The town hall gets riled up (say that one with an accent, folks) when anyone mentions a subdivision and the high school principal gets the dubious honor of kissing a pig at homecoming. My best friend drove a bright red pickup and her mom sang in a honky-tonk country band (the kind that plays at the annual county fair). This was country living ... and needless to say, I grew up hating country music.
I hated all of it -- '80s-hit sappiness sung with a twang, knee-slappin', foot tappin' beat and any mention of a tractor. Frankly, I still can't believe that Kenny Chesney scored a hit off of "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy." No tractor -- not even the quintessential, oft-mentioned John Deere -- is sexy.
At some point, noticeably after having left the small town scene, I became one of those closet country music listeners. Scary, huh, that there are people like that out there? I'd only listen on the car radio, claiming that country stations were the only ones coming in clearly between Richmond and southern Virginia (we all know there is, after all, some truth to that). And I stayed that way for a while
finally going so far as to admit to myself what I was doing. Then I went to Nashville.
Granted, I knew that Nashville was the heart of the country music scene. I had listened stealthily to the lyrics of these songs for years (if they don't live in Nashville, they sure as hell talk about it enough). And I dutifully bought tickets to the Grand Ole Opry and planned on getting a little down home culture. "Down home culture" is defined as something a little cute, a little southern and a little country. I was okay with that
as long as I could wear black and take a Kate Spade purse along. Country culture would be an experiment.
I could ignore the wandering Minnie Pearl outside -- even with her requisite "Howdeee" and price-tagged straw hat. Somehow, I abstained from snapping a cheesy photo alongside Minnie. But once inside, there came the shock.
Somewhere between the voiced-over Cracker Barrel ads and the gigantic barn-shaped stage set, I found myself leaning forward on my wooden pew. Between country classic Little Jimmie Dickens and new radio star favorite Joe Nichols, I realized that Nashville really has something to offer.
The Grand Ole Opry showcases everything you have to love (or hate) about country music. Bill Anderson sang "The Unicorn" for the kids while Little Jimmie Dickens told old jokes that reminded me of no one more than of my grandfather. Joe Nichols is downright sexy (unlike the aforementioned John Deere) -- something in his bass voice and shoulder-length dark hair had every female's heart pounding in tune to "The Impossible." That's one thing you have to grant today's younger country music stars -- they are attractive.
The family sitting next to me (all of whom screamed very loudly anytime anyone even mentioned the word Texas) was having the time of their lives. I could have stereotyped them -- a lot of people probably would have. Requisite wide-brimmed hat, cowboy boots and silver buttoned plaid shirt. It would almost be too easy to characterize a family like that. But they were just too happy singing along to songs that frankly, I'd never even heard of.
At this point I decided country music has one honest-to-God purpose -- it makes people happy. Something about the music hits home, whether it's the sincere lyrics or the urge to tap your feet alongside everything.
I found myself a night later at the Wildhorse Saloon in downtown Nashville, line dancing alongside the best of them. Okay, not the best of them -- more like the worst of them (and that's when I was going in the right direction). But I was laughing as loud as anyone else there
and what could really be more important than that?
Country music will never be classy; not even Garth Brooks or Reba could hope to hit the New York scene. Tim McGraw and Faith Hill will never be the "It Couple" anywhere outside Nashville. Elvis might be a little upset that his memory lives on in the Country Music Hall of Fame as well as in its Rock and Roll counterpart. But Nashville has got to be one of the most contented cities in this country. And maybe I've just found a reason to come out of that country music closet.
Read More
The best albums of 2014
By Noah Zeidman | December 4, 2014Across genres, it has been a pretty great year in music.
Top 10 movies of 2014
December 4, 2014This has been an excellent year for film, offering everything from gripping blockbusters to innovative personal films.
Iggy Azalea is “Reclassified”
December 4, 2014It has become common practice among music artists to repackage their albums in an effort to simultaneously boost single sales and dish out new content by slightly renaming the album or slapping “Deluxe” onto the title.
