All Country, No Rock ‘n’ Roll
This campus is in a serious music crisis. According to Facebook, the top music selection among Mary Wash students is as followed:
1. Tim McGraw
2. Rascal Flatts
I know we go to school in the South, in a state and city that’s synonymous with the twangy sounds of “my wife left me” and “I’m a redneck woman,” but I thought our student body was a tad more progressive than this. Not that I don’t occasionally enjoy a good revival of “Achy Breaky Heart,” but for country to dominate the top three music choices among students is borderline pathetic.
I am not going to pretend that I am a music aficionado. The latest underground band and their “breakthrough new sound” is way off of my realm of knowledge or even interest. I usually rely on the rock classics to get my jam on, but I’m not discriminatory to the guilty pleasures of the new Britney Spears CD. So believe me, I am in no position to judge. But I will.
Tim McGraw and Rascal Flatts should not be singled out as falling into the trap of country music, but they serve as good examples. There’s a reason for the stereotype: every song is about the same thing.
Generally, the most popular of lyrics falls into a few categories.
1. My tractor (or other type of farm equipment) is sexy.
2. You will be sorry you cheated on me.
3. Any lyric mentioning tequila, beer, piña coladas or any other type of alcohol.
Not to mention country singers seem to be the biggest posers out there. They sing about how much they love their families, their good upbringing and the small town farm they grew up on, giving listeners an unrealistic idea about what life should be like.
Take Keith Urban for example. He has won several country awards, was named artist of the month in July 2007 for the Great American Country television network, and is the ring-leader of posers. It’s still a mystery to me how someone who was born in New Zealand and grew up in Australia can have a country accent. Not to mention someone who sings about family values probably shouldn’t have multiple rounds of rehab under his belt.
I used to tolerate country music, even appreciating the poetic quality of old school Reba songs. I had even come to terms with the fact that there are about two radio stations in Fredericksburg that don’t play country. But when Carrie Underwood and Rascal Flatts desecrated some of my favorite Eagles’ songs last year at the Grammys, my tolerance for new wave country ended.
So I extend an offer to the UMW campus. Let’s try to spice up our music routine. We’re college students. We’re supposed to be rebels who listen to crazy stuff that our parents could never understand, not blasting our speakers with the same tunes our grandparents sing along to.
It starts with Tim McGraw, but if we don’t change things soon, we’re going to be crawling in bed at nine, falling asleep to reruns of the “Golden Girls.”