Almost two weeks ago, CNN anchor Anderson Cooper asked the Republican presidential candidates what music they enjoy.
The more subdued Ben Carson, as expected, listens to classical music in the operating room. Marco Rubio bumps EDM, in line with Floridian aesthetics. Texas native Jeb Bush, though, was the only candidate who admitted to listening to country music.
I know the feeling, Jeb.
I’m rarely among people who appreciate country music. It isn’t a new experience, and it’s something I’ve come to accept. But many people outrightly think they’re too good for country music.
These days, it’s common to hear about any given person’s hatred for country music. An answer I’ve come to expect when asking someone what types of music they listen to is “everything, except country music.” People my age especially call it redneck, ignorant or any of a number of other terms, usually insulting the intelligence of country music singers and their audience — a lofty conjecture when 45 percent of the population claims to listen to country music, according to Music Reports Inc.
Country music is often treated as a weird genre only kept afloat by strange enthusiasts. This is in blatant contradiction to the data that suggests it is the third-best-selling genre of music, only selling less than rock and R&B. There is no reason for country music to have such a negative reputation, and the conceived pre-requisites to be a country music fan mirrors more socially acceptable forms of music, such as rap and hip-hop.
To be fair, it’s not completely without reason. With songs like “Kiss My Country Ass” and “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” becoming such hits, fans deserve a quizzical look at times.
But we must look past the preconception that country music is a bunch of hicks touting their guns and trucks. Behind this apparent wall of ignorance and redneck self-flattery is a genre that is so American, so down to earth, that to disregard it as simple hillbilly music is to do yourself a great disservice.
Songs such as “Arlington” by Trace Adkins will leave you in awe of the men and women who fought to defend our rights as Americans. “Home” by Dierks Bentley reminds us of the amazing progress our country has made since its advent, and that despite contention and disagreement, we have remained the greatest country on the face of the planet. Country songs like these pay tribute to our country’s distinct and exceptional qualities like no other genre of music does.
Every genre has its questionable content that inexplicably finds its way into popularity. Rap has Lil Wayne, rock has Fall Out Boy and country has Big & Rich. They’re not bad musicians, typically, but they’re not exactly what you’d be proud to show off in your Spotify stream.
Let’s call them “guilty pleasures.”
Country music is much like rap music in its content — a steep barrier to entry, and a propensity to turn off those who aren’t established fans. Both flaunt regional specificity — such as Dirty South and Flyover States. And both have lyrics and messages that can polarize some listeners.
Within both country and rap is a strong sense of pride and a strong sense of place. At their bases, Gretchen Wilson’s “Redneck Woman” is akin to Lupe Fiasco’s “Hip-Hop Saved My Life” in their self-referential and proud nature. Country fans and rap fans aren’t afraid to talk about how they live or where they’re from. While a rock band or jazz performer may exist everywhere, with country and rap, geography is supreme. While hip-hop and rap were birthed in the cities and still are primarily generated from there, country is fiercely nonurban.
The parallels run deeper.
Country is often derided as “Jesus music,” as it often contains overt and plentiful lyrics extolling religious beliefs. But people often overlook the religious influence on rap music. From Tupac’s “Ghetto Gospel” to Coolio’s “Gangsta’s Paradise,” it’s hard to ignore Protestant Christianity’s influence on rap.
Rapper Lil Wayne even closes his shows by paying homage to God. Yet, very few would choose to describe rap music as religiously inclined. This religious aversion is often only part of a much bigger insult, usually one that implies country music as a whole enjoys being ignorant or stupid. People see the thick southern accents, the rural slang and they peg the entire genre as unintelligent.
So, next time you accidentally tune to 104.7 on the radio and hear a Southern twang and fiddle, try giving it a chance.
Who knows, you may find yourself in the same pontoon as Jeb and I.
Timothy primarily writes on free speech and media culture for The Pitt News.
Write to him at thn17@pitt.edu
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