Wayne Knuckles
Country music ain’t what it used to be. Pardon my grammar, but it just ain’t.
Whatever happened to the classic country songs, with titles like “I Keep Forgettin’ I Forgot About” or “If You Don’t Leave Me Alone, I’ll Go And Find Someone Who Will”, or that classic tearjerker, “How Can I Miss You If You Won’t Go Away?”
Today, country music seems largely made up of well-meaning types who have terrific talent, but never had a mama who served as a bouncer at a chicken fight, and it shows.
The country music I grew up with had a certain sweet sadness to it, the kind of sadness that comes from shared experiences that feature broken hearts and empty whiskey bottles.
Take these classic tunes, for example: “The Next Time You Throw That Fryin’ Pan, My Face Ain’t Gonna Be There”, “I’m So Miserable Without You, It’s Almost Like Having You Here”, and the ever popular “Mama Get The Hammer (There’s a Fly On Daddy’s Head)”. Just reading the titles of these songs can make you want to cry in your instant coffee while the sweet soulful sounds of steel strings play mournfully in the background.
In other words, these are song titles that just tug at the heart.
Compare them with these examples of some contemporary country music songs: “Forever After All”, “Chasing After You”, “Glad You Exist”.
Kinda meh, don’t you think? I can’t imagine a banjo, mandolin or foot-stomping fiddle music playing in any of them. But it might. I just don’t listen to enough new music these days to know.
I grew up on Porter Wagner, The Wilburn Brothers, Lefty Frizzell and Marty Robbins.
Those dudes were vastly different than today’s country artists. It wasn’t just the songs. It was the way they dressed—sequin jackets with big white hats and rhinestone cowboy boots—that just oozed “cool” before being cool was actually cool, and the attitudes.
I once saw Conway Twitty bring down the house by muttering just two words into the microphone.
As the concert was ready to start, most of the auditorium lights were turned off. Mr. Twitty and his band were about to be introduced. The stage was totally dark. Suddenly, the voice of the master of ceremonies rang out over the speakers, “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Con-WAY TWITTY ...”
At that instant, a lone spotlight hit a single figure at the front of the stage. He stood there, just looking off into the crowd, not moving a muscle, for what seemed an eternity.
The audience seemed confused, and seemed unsure whether to break into applause or extend sympathy to an old performer who had apparently lost his lines.
Ol’ Conway left them dangling like that, not moving a muscle nor disturbing a hair on his perfectly quaffed head, for what seemed an eternity as the seconds ticked by (one Mississippi … two Mississippi … three Mississippi ...). Finally, he leaned forward ever so slightly and placed his mouth about an inch from the stage microphone.
“Hello, darlin’ ...” is all the legend cooed. Most of the crowd--and nearly all the females--went wild.
It was an honor to see a master craftsman at work.
Today’s country artists are really good—Chris Stapleton, Eric Church and Miranda Lambert come to mind—but can you imagine any of them singing “Her Teeth Were Stained, But Her Heart Was Pure”, “I Bought The Boots That Just Walked Out On Me”, or “Ever Since I Said ‘I Do,’ There’s A Lot of Things You Don’t”?
Or would any of today’s top country artists tackle a song with a title like “I Wanna Whip Your Cow”, “How Can You Believe Me When I Say I Love You When You Know I’ve Been a Liar All My Life?”, or “If My Nose Were Full of Nickels, I’d Blow It All on You”?
And I’m confident we won’t see a song like “I Just Bought A Car From The Guy That Stole My Girl, But The Car Don’t Run So I Figure We Got An Even Deal” ever grace the Billboard Top 40 in our lifetime.
But maybe, just maybe, we will someday be surprised when a song like one of these comes over our car radio: “If The Phone Don’t Ring, You’ll Know It’s Me”, I Liked You A Lot Better Before I Got To Know You So Well”, “My John Deere Was Breaking Your Field, While Your Dear John Was Breaking My Heart”, “Tennis Must Be Your Racket, ‘Cause Love Means Nothing To You”, or “How Come Your Dog Don’t Bite Nobody But Me”?
If that ain’t country, I don’t know what is.
Wayne Knuckles is editor and publisher of the White County News.