Gotcha Bitch: Country Music

As a recent country music convert, I’m unsure of the rules in terms of just how critical of the genre I’m allowed to be. That being said, I have ears and some fucking common sense, so I know horrible music when I hear it, and new country is pretty bad.

New country is riding the coattails of decent/old country by including a few key aspects that are supposed to make us forget that everything else coming out of the singer’s mouth is ridiculous. You think I’m going to overlook you talk-singing about a "corn star who’s the talk of the crop at every county fair" just because you mention her jew-lah suntan? Guess again.

I see through your honkey-tonk formula regardless of how often you compliment my badonkadonk, and I’m one step away from boycotting the city of Nashville in its entirety if things don’t shape up. Now pour me a shot of whiskey bourbon and let’s break down why name dropping Conway Twitty every five lines does nothing to distract from the fact that you’re probably wearing a cowboy hat with just one X.  

Blake Shelton – Boys ‘Round Here
Congratulations, southern gents, you’ve been pigeon-holed into being horrible conversationalists, worse dancers, and future Leukoplakia patients. “Chew tobacco chew tobacco chew tobacco spit” is the only thing Hank Williams can do up in heaven to keep himself from crying. I’m down for drinking the ice cold beer, but could we go somewhere else rather than down by the river? Jason Aldean, Kenny Chesney, and Eli Young Band have all brought me down there already, and I’m pretty sure there’s a dead member of The Band Perry floating around in it.   
Side note: am I the only one who’s surprised every time a southern accent comes out of Blake Shelton’s mouth? He looks so British to me. Unrelated to the topic at hand, but disconcerting nonetheless.

Jana Kramer – Why Ya Wanna
I honestly don’t even know what Jana Kramer looks like, but if I had to guess, I would assume that she’s blonde, has a decent bod, wears tacky airbrushed acrylic tips with rhinestones, and reenacted the scene from “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days” where Kate Hudson cries and flings tofu at Matthew McConaughey screaming, “My boyfriend thinks I’m fat!”…except Jana was serious. This outburst naturally led to their breakup, which naturally led to her being a crazy girl and pulling an, “Oh my God I had no idea Ex-Boyfriend would be at the one bar we have in BFE but let’s not leave because I really want him to see me how’s my hair make me laugh so I look like I’m not perpetually miserable.” You’re right, he shouldn’t be the bigger person and ask you how you’re doing or give you a hug, because that would mean you don’t get to psychoanalyze the situation over Qdoba with your friends tomorrow afternoon or for three days after. Aren’t country girls supposed to be badasses who don’t take shit? Who let this whiney loser into the club?

 P.S. The video proves my hair color prediction was off. Everything else still stands.

When in doubt, shoot it out
Shooting is one of those things I think I’d actually be pretty good at if A) I had someone to patiently teach me how not to blow my face off and B) I wasn’t so hopped up on Zantrex all the time to keep a steady hand. Even then I’d still only be able to take out some rusty soda cans or a squirrel [if I thought he really deserved it]. Is shooting your boyfriend/girlfriend really a common thing? So your boyfriend shook you around and now you want to Lorena Bobbit him with a shotgun; that’s fine, Miranda Lambert, you do you. But then we get into Commies and terrorists and the second amendment and suddenly everyone thinks they’re Tex Williams in a pair of American Eagle Light Faded Wash Original Boot Cut jeans. Tuck it in your waistband and rub the corner of your concealed carry license for good luck whenever you need a boost; not every Toby Keith song needs to be taken as the gospel.

Natural disasters are radio gold
Most people’s thoughts following the tornado in Henryville, IN or Hurricane Sandy were, “Oh that is terrible! How tragic for those people! Let’s donate and help.” In Carrie Underwood and Little Big Town’s heads, these high winds and funnel clouds were in the shape of dollar signs. Tracy Lawrence’s “Texas Tornado” was revamped with a female edge as Carrie once again reminded us that her home state of Oklahoma has like, super bad weather, and LBT jolted us from our relaxing “Pontoon” vacay to get revenge on an ex. I guess earthquakes and avalanches don’t show how pissed off we are about our boyfriend forgetting our birthday; we have to rip his house off the foundation and hope Auntie Em made it to the cellar before it was too late.

The Entire Kip Moore Discography
I was Jedi mind-tricked into liking Kip Moore’s “Somethin Bout a Truck” when it first came out, and I hate myself for it every day. Yet again the ice cold beer thing got me (Corona and lime, get in mah belleh), but then he goes on to talk about a red sundress (“I HAVE ONE OF THOSE!”) and a creek (“I USED TO LIVE BY ONE OF THOSE!”) and corn (“I EAT THAT!”) and before I knew it I insisted on playing it every time it came on the radio despite everyone else insisting that it was god-awful. Fortunately, after he released a few more singles, I came to and realized that that fucker just follows the same cumulative song formula for every tune he writes. First we had a truck in a field and a girl and a potential one-hit-wonder, then he shoots back with “Hey Pretty Girl” and sorry-I’m-not-sorry, nothing about this “dance” feels right. I heard you the first time, Kip, I don’t need you to reiterate how badly you want to take me home just so we can sleep in separate rooms which illogically leads to me getting knocked up and having a shotgun wedding with you. My kiss that tastes like honey doesn’t want any of your “Beer Money,” it wants a divorce and full custody.

I know there are plenty of terrible new country songs that I failed to mention here, but browse the internet and you’ll see that even God hated “Truck Yeah,” so there’s no need to bring any more attention to it. Is this enough to make me stop listening to country music altogether? Not quite. Am I thankful that “5-1-5-0” has finally lost airtime, regardless of what it’s been replaced with? Every day.