The Toby Keith-ification of country music
- Melissa Herrera: Not Waiting for Friday
- April 7, 2024
- 2458
My mom once said she “didn’t like country anymore because it failed to tell a story.” She’d loved Bill Anderson, Don Williams, Ronnie Milsap.
I love Ronnie Milsap. He could turn a note into an entire heart-wrenching moment, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
There are no lanes in music.
What defines country music and who gets to say who sings it or performs?
No one does.
Folks pick up a guitar and sing, or sometimes they reach back through their formative years and want to get in touch with what certain songs meant to them. I remember belting out the song “Fernando” by ABBA with my mom in the car. It’s a core memory.
Half my playlists contain the likes of Anne Murray, Crystal Gayle and Barbara Mandrell. Barbara Mandrell was definitely country, but how about Anne Murray? I recall a discourse about her song “You Needed Me” and whether she was talking about God or a partner. I know I didn’t dream that up — go listen to the song.
Was Amy Grant ever country or just contemporary Christian? That is until she flipped over to pop and became a pariah in the eyes of those who thought she’d turned her back on God. We have a way of piercing our fellow humans straight through the heart with our judgments. Maybe social media statements have made everything too easy to say behind the comfort of a screen.
In case anyone forgot, Olivia Newton John started out as ‘70s soft country. When she switched to pop music, no one blinked an eye. It was a natural progression. Taylor Swift started out as what I call “pop country” and sung her way to over a billion dollars in earnings. But the amount of hate I saw poured on her because she fell in love with a football player and went to his games — sheesh, you’d think she wasn’t allowed to be a human in love.
I don’t love bro country, which began some time after 9/11 — the bro country that ran the Dixie Chicks nearly out of the business. I lamented the hatred poured upon them because “Wide Open Spaces” became my anthem. I heard someone call this time period in country music as the Toby Keith-ification of country music, and they’re not wrong.
Give me ‘70s, ‘80s and ‘90s country.
Give me George Strait and Steve Wariner and Tanya Tucker. Give me anyone who loves what they sing and tells it through song, showing me a path to their heart inside the haunting octaves. You can keep your hatred.
Beyoncé just released the album “Cowboy Carter,” and some people have lost their minds. Is it because they think she should stay a successful pop singer or because she‘s black?
We all have the right to stretch our wings and do a new-to-us thing. There should be no barriers in music, but there are a lot of loud voices trying to keep it in a box.
John Schneider of “Dukes of Hazzard” fame said in an interview on a news network about Beyoncé’s album, “They have to seize control over every aspect. They’ve got to make their mark like a dog in a dog walk park. You know every dog has to mark every tree, right? That’s what’s going on here.”
Who is they?
He tried to back peddle the statement, but that the words would even leave his mouth? I’m not part of the Beyhive per se, but I love a woman doing her own thing, despite the incredible vitriol being spread.
I don’t remember anyone coming for Lionel Richie when he collaborated with the group Alabama to sing “Deep River Woman.” Artists collaborate and write from the heart. Lionel broke it down with “Brick House” when he was with the Commodores, and no one came for his jaunt into a slightly country-themed song.
Take a listen to “Fairytale” by the Pointer Sisters and read about the protests of them performing at the Grand Ole Opry. Folks were chanting “Keep country country!”
Or maybe, if you don’t like a song, don’t listen to it.
As the great Charley Pride once said, “I think there’s enough room in country music for everybody.”
Travis Twitt was upset in 2016 when Beyoncé performed at the CMAs with the Dixie Chicks. He said he didn’t want his country music mixed with pop or rap.
Hey Travis, here’s a quarter — call someone who cares.
Melissa Herrera is a published author and opinion columnist. She is a curator of vintage mugs and all things spooky, and her book, “TOÑO LIVES,” can be found at www.tinyurl.com/Tonolives. For inquiries, to purchase her book or anything else on your mind, email her at junkbabe68@gmail.com or find her in the thrift aisles.