From On The Road to On the Road Again. February 20th 2024

 

 Remember that lovely 70’s song “It Never Rains in California” ?  Well it isn’t completely accurate.  At least my limited experience suggests something different.  I am delivering my therapy from our suite in California cause there is the need to do something indoors today.  It doesn’t figure to last.  However, I recall saying that last year too.  No matter.  It was -29C when we left The Great White North a few days back.  

I actually quite enjoy the three day drive down here. They are beautiful, these United States.  We drive through Montana, Idaho, Utah, a tiny corner of Arizona, Nevada, and a lot of California during that time.  Across two or maybe three mountain ranges.  On the second day, you leave a snow covered winter and into shorts and tees weather.  Quite exciting.  We listen to a host of playlists I have made from the four days of music I have on my IPod.  Yes, I have an IPod and a phone.  I do not like interruptions to songs like “Here Comes The Sun” by phone calls from telemarketers.  But sitting there taking in the scenery and listening to my music got me thinking about my taste.

I love good music.  I am not a genre snob contrary to things I may have said or what people may have assumed.  I am a Rocky, Poppy, Blues specific,Celtic, Classical, folk kinda guy.  I love a good voice and appreciate some abilities on instruments.  But I am not a fan of country music in general.  Growing up in our house,  my parents who were spoiling and wonderful had no appreciation for my kind of music.  Dad hated rock and roll and the apparent styles and culture that went with it.  Greased up jelly rolled hair styles and tight tees and jeans annoyed him.  Real men combed their hair back in a neat manner and wasted no time grooming in front of a mirror.  They didn’t carry rat tailed combs that could damage a car seat, or jeans that would restrict your bending down and picking up motion.  Course that all changed when the Beatles came along.  Wearing your hair combed down and covering your ears was strictly forbidden.   To mom and dad  the music itself was just noise.  The anti war lyrics were melodramatic and almost impossible to make out.

In our house when mom was home,  We usually listened to either Scottish folk music or Classical selections including Opera.  But the real torture for me came when my dad arrived home and wanted to listen to his music.  Hank Snow, Johnny Cash, Wilf Carter, Dave Dudley,  Strumming, twanging, nasal ear poison, I tell you what.  Now truth be told, in my older age, I have come to realize the talents some of these people possessed.  Johnny Cash has an outstanding voice.  Several country artists are incredible musicians,  and know their way around a guitar with gobsmacking precision.  And my iPod contains several artists from that genre whom I revere. Back in the day,  Sunday mornings were the worst.  My mom bought my dad a four record set of country western gospel music.  Released by “The Living Voices” I must confess waking up to an hour of songs such as Bringing In The Sheaves was a little closer to hell for me than the good place.  To this day, those may be the only really difficult memories of growing up in my house.  I vowed to never listen to anything remotely country ever again.  Then a funny thing happened.  In the late 60’s the British Invasion of Rock began to slow in North America.  Most of the American rock musicians who had been forced to compete or fail with the likes of  the Beatles, Stones, Who, and such made physical moves from New York to the Canyon in Los Angeles.  They blended the new electric sounds with the genres that represented a truly American past,  and rock music started to sound like blends of folk and country.  Bands with outstanding vocals and electric flair such as Buffalo Springfield, The Byrds, Crosby, Stills, and Nash, The flying Burrito Brothers, The Youngbloods became chart toppers.   Folk stars such as Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan both of whom were beautiful poets produced so much work that the artists of the world shared.  The rock of the early 70’s (of which I own a multitude) would actually be classed as today’s country.  To me however a stigma exists.  

I already suggested I wasn’t a snob,  however I may be about to open myself up to a little finger pointing and guffaws.  I really don’t care for twangy music.  While I love the fiddle and banjo in Celtic folk and rock,  it can get mighty screechy in some country songs.  Some of the beats and sounds from country western eras persists in tunes that make it seem forced,  or worse, lazy.  And lazy applies especially to many country lyrics.  Just because someone somewhere in a bar after a few beers coins a phrase like “I’m not as good as I once was, but I’m as good once as I ever was”  or asks the question that no doubt lead to a face smacking result “If I said you had a beautiful body would you hold it against me?”  Just because those statements get made repeatedly by someone who has had too much to drink?  Well that is no reason to turn it into a hit song.  In fact that is just plain lazy.  There are too many words in those jokes to fit into a decent stanza.

Maybe I am a snob come to lyrics.  I certainly don’t like to think so.  I think comedy or whit in lyrics are cool.  Look at what the Bare Naked Ladies have done with songs like a Million Dollars or Enid.  I am not a snob about English.  One of my teacher friends will cringe a thousand times when reading this session.  But Bob and Joni and Leonard a John and Paul spoke to us in Romantic, or clever revealing ways that make normal communication seem like an art that brings emotions to the front.   Frankly, would you rather have your significant other dedicate Annies Song, or Here Comes the Sun to you,  or would you prefer I’m gonna love you forever with that catchy stanza “ I wouldn’t care I ain’t in love with your hair, and if it all fell out I’d still love you anyways?”   Telling it like it is isn’t always art.  Maybe country makes a statement the fan believes he/she would say.  Well frankly I have listened to myself for years and I want to hear something just a little more inspirational.  

My favourite country song comes from Colin Raye.  I think about you.  I was a cop, and I have a daughter.  Colin has an absolutely beautiful voice and could sing Opera if he so desired.  But he has done his genre well.  (I just thought I would throw that in there.  Proof that I listen to some country music.   Kind of a “some of my best friends are” statement.)   And that’s what happens in my mind when I am on a road trip and start singing to myself “On The Road Again”!  Cause country music is kinda like putting used chewing gum in your pocket.  Hey, I think I have the makings of a hit!