There is a type of music that holds much appeal to the rural working person, also known as the people of the soil. It is called “country” music, exemplified by the likes of such classic performers as those who appeared on the television program “Hee Haw,” and of Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. To be honest, this type of music is not my forte; my tastes tend toward whatever is being played in Starbucks, although I did purchase the Taylor Swift CD after Ken Tucker gave it a positive review on “Fresh Air” with Terry Gross.

The first time I popped that CD into the player, I was surprised at the reaction it received from my poodle bitch. She is a quite refined and at times aloof dog, yet she seemed enchanted by the melodies. She listens to it quite often now.

But my real “country music” education began this week, when I was forwarded an email containing a link to a charming “youtube” video featuring an otherwise adorable young child “rocking it out” to a song entitled “Boots On,” originally recorded by someone called Randy Houser:

The juxtaposition of an innocent, presumably hopeful child with the song’s rural “adult” attitude is but one aspect of this video’s appeal. Another lies with the song itself, with its lyrics celebrating the so-called “working man.” The full lyrics can be found here (links will open a new window).

Naturally, no rational man would be proud of having hard, calloused hands — and no woman would long for the touch of rough skin against her own. I can tell you from personal experience that it is the soft touch of hands that have seen no manual labor whatsoever that drives women wild with passionate longing. Moreover, if your jeans are muddy, why not put them in a washer, or at the very least change out of them, perhaps into a nice pair of casual (non-pleated) slacks?

Despite the disheveled appearance of the singer, he is proud of himself. This pride is clearly misplaced, but he is happy with his simple lot, and who am I to judge him? Because I am more sophisticated than he? That means little in a world as rapidly changing as our own.

Still, I can’t help but to wonder about the woman who would engage in the act of sexual congress with a man who wears a “dirty” hat and “muddy” jeans, especially when they’ve only just met. I will reluctantly admit that I have been in situations in which I was in the garden, planting rosebushes, and came into the house with a few spots of dirt on my jodhpurs and some grime on my hands (this despite gloves), and my paramour applied to my lips a tender yet undeniably passionate kiss as I made my way to the bath to clean myself off for dinner. So I suppose that anything is possible.

Naturally enchanted by this video, I have been motivated to learn more about this exotic musical form so appreciated by people of the soil. To that end, I checked the most recent billboard country music charts, and sampled the top four songs as of March 15th. The results have been revelatory and, dare I say it, inspiring. So much so, that I have decided to use what I’ve learned from these songs to attempt my own country tune.

A screenshot of the Billboard top country songs on March 15th, when I began my country music journey (larger picture is available here). I note that as of March 18th, “Hillbilly Bone” is number one. This is both enlightening and slightly disturbing.

Obviously I have little direct experience with the down-and-dirty world of soil music. However, I am a gifted poet, who has written a number of quite moving erotic and at times even playful lines. So I understand rhythm and rhyme, two prerequisites for composition of any type of song, no matter the subgenre or, in the case of country music, sub-subgenre.

As a writer, I also possess a great capacity for empathy. And while I live a life that is far removed from that which is known as “country living,” I have great faith that I can fully inhabit the mind of a person of the soil.

My first stop is at the very top of this week’s billboard chart, something by Billy Currington entitled “That’s How Country Boys Roll.” Lyrics can be found here.

This song is clearly anthemic in nature, as the narrator expects the listener to identify with his lifestyle as delineated, and offers no apologies for such. And why should he? After all, the typical “country boy” as offered up by this song is clearly a generous, intelligent, god-fearing, good with direction, and a provocative love-maker. This despite the fact he is getting nowhere in life (“spinnin’ their wheels”). The oxymoronic notions of the song are made plain by the line “Yeah they’re cryin’ aloud, humble and proud.” There are two sides to the country music protagonist, and he embraces both sides with equal vigor.

The narrator of this song, like that of “Boots On,” also loudly proclaims a love for Jesus (Christ, one assumes), his own mother, and someone or something called “Jones,” which is perhaps a reference to a famous and old country performer called George Jones. The lead character in this rural narrative has religious faith, love of family, and of country music. Placing this assertion in the song’s very last verse is intended to give extra weight to the sentiments.

I can already see that it is going to take all my empathy to fully understand the mind of such a one as this. And before I continue, I would address a concern that I have with both of these songs. Is it not startling that, in a world in which the dangers of tobacco are supposedly well-known, the narrators of both “Boots On” (“Copenhagen ring”) and “That’s How Country Boys Roll” (“pinch of Skoal”) promote the use of chewing tobacco? I was prepared to ignore it in one song, but in two songs it becomes a trend, a disgusting one, and no amount of empathy on my part will allow me to pollute my own song with such disturbing product placement. I shall not even mention it again in my examination of these lyrics.

We now turn our cheek and gum to the next most popular song, which goes by the quizzical title “Why Don’t We Just Dance,” by Josh Turner. Lyrics available here.

Obviously, the narrator of this song is attempting to “woo” his cohabitative partner, most likely a wife as marriage is common among people of the soil, by encouraging her to join him dancing inside the confines of their home (he is too self-conscious to take her out to a “honky tonk club,” or “roadhouse,” or wherever it is that people of the soil congregate for their square dancing). This is a man whose lot is clearly simple (“the little bitty living room ain’t gonna look like much” suggests that both his house and his grammar need improvement), yet he is satisfied with the way things are (“on second thought just the way you are is already drivin’ me crazy”). He seems to not even care for his fellow man, as his solution to what he sees as a “world…gone crazy” is to simply give up and gambol about in his tatty living room with a woman who is most likely wearing threadbare slippers, a filthy bathrobe encrusted with beer stains, and her mother’s curlers in her hair. At least he’s not dragging her to “Wal-Mart.”

So far, a clear picture of the country music protagonist is emerging. He is simple, and he is proud of his simplicity. In fact, he is inclined to give pride of place to his faults. He wants to be left alone, and wishes to offer nothing to the rest of the world. However, further research is needed to fully understand him. The next song is entitled “Hillbilly Bone,” by Blake Shelton and Trace Adkins. Lyrics are here.

This song is an effective and serious codification of the philosophy of the country music narrator. Yes, he is a person of the soil. He is proud. But his circumstances have more to do with choice than with happenstance. In other words, the protagonist’s contention is that everyone has the potential to be a person of the soil, because all of us have a “hillbilly bone.” (A “hillbilly,” by the way, is an impolite way of saying “person of the soil.” This embracing of a slur as a badge of honor is a way of demystifying it, and removing its power to harm the speaker.)

Yet this song offers a new wrinkle: it seems to be saying that we all contain the potential to be people of the soil. To suggest that human beings are just one “fiddle saw” away from becoming an animal is absurd and disturbing. For instance I have just listened to this song all the way through, from the beginning to the end, and at no point did I leave my chair and begin stomping about the room like a boorish lout. Perhaps I lack that “hillbilly bone;” if so, more’s the pity for me, I suppose. Nevertheless, it is not uncommon for people suffering a terrible lot in life to assert that they are happy where they are, and wouldn’t trade places with someone like me who leads a provocative and thrilling life.

The protagonist recognizes his own “hillbilly bone,” and flexes it (perhaps a more apt title might have been “Hillbilly Muscle”?). Unlike the “city folk” who don’t know who “Conway Twitty” is (a former country music star, according to wikipedia), he exercises rather than exorcises this base instinct. As the song degenerates into rhythmic gibberish that bears little resemblance to actual words (“hillbilly bone-ba-bone-ba-bone-bone”) the narrator seems to be transmogrifying into a terrible creature that is more beast than human.

The country music character is thus only a few ill-tuned musical notes away from complete degeneration. This is an intriguing if disturbing turn.

Don’t let Blake Shelton’s smile fool you. He is just a few ill-tuned notes away from a beastly transformation.

The next song on the list is “A Little More Country Than That,” by Easton Corbin. Lyrics can be read here.

With this song, the “wooing” that occurred in the dingy living room of “Why Don’t We Just Dance” is turned on its head, as the protagonist attempts to warn his potential romantic partner that he is a “country boy,” through and through. However, as we can see by careful perusal of the lyrics, his “warnings” are that he is, in fact, a very good man indeed. This is not unlike the uncreative job applicant who replies, “I work too hard” when asked by a prospective employer to name his worst fault. He is warning her that he is steadfast and true, and won’t “two-time” her (i.e., he will not sleep with another woman while they are together).

The suggestion, then, is that he is in fact a real “catch” for the object of the song. This despite the fact that he compares himself unfavorably to an ill-maintained, unpaved road and a small town with no nightlife.

Of course, where I think the comparison is unfavorable, the country music protagonist is making a point about his own worth. It is very high, despite the sinister implications. I note that he tells the object of his “affection” that “this ring ain’t something that I mean to give you and then take back.” This sounds like a man assuring a wavering woman that he will not leave her, no matter what. But there is also an undercurrent of menace as the beast of “Hillbilly Bone” seems to show himself, and warn her that he will never allow her to leave him, no matter how crazed and animalistiche becomes.

This narrator also shares the penchant for referring to older country music stars as displayed in “Hillbilly Bone” and “That’s How Country Boys Roll,” in the line “Think of a Hank song from days gone.” This is a reference to a singer of soil music called either Hank Williams, or Hank Williams Jr, as wikipedia mentions both of these people. Apparently this is another common country music trope-an acknowledgment of the past, not just in the form of reminiscing about “the good ol’ days,” but the “good ol’ music” of the past, that the modern country music fan has little time for outside of these references.

Also of interest is the fact that the country narrator seems preoccupied with his appearance. His boots and his hat especially seem to be an essential part of his uniform, a way of announcing to the world the pride he takes in himself. And the dirtier, the better, apparently.

Now that I fully understand just what the country music narrator is about, I cannot wait to dive into the composition of my own country song.

It’s obvious that I should begin by inviting a woman of little self-worth to engage with me — or, my narrator, excuse me, I mustn’t identify too closely with this character — in the act of coitus, as a prelude to a lifelong commitment. To do this, I shall present my own shortcomings not as failings to be overcome, but as selling points. I shall sprinkle it heavily with the vernacular of the soil, and terms of endearment aimed at the woman I am attempting to seduce (i.e., “baby,” “honey”). Of course a simple rhyme scheme is in order, so as not to overwhelm the woman, at least not at first:

Baby my wallet ain’t fat

Spent this week’s paycheck on my hat

And now it’s covered with grime!

Let’s go down to the rodeo

Honey that’s your thing I just know

And we’ll have us a good time!

A working man, poor but proud, with simple tastes. Oh, I am so delighted by how this is turning out! I will be country music songwriter in no time.

Having thus established my protagonist’s credentials, it becomes imperative that he work to reassure the woman in question that he is to be trusted and relied upon, and is interested in a long-term commitment:

Honey my virtue is true

I never would lie to you

Let’s have a couple of kids!

I’m just a self-sufficient man

Doin’ the best that I can

And that’s all I ever did!

The protagonist of my song has been stalwart and true his entire life. He wants a family, and a home. Too simple, too lacking in nuance to understand the importance of a well-placed lie every now and then, not even in the pursuit of a woman who would enjoy a rodeo.

And now, to my chorus. I will naturally want it to be throbbing, catchy, almost tribal in its insistence. It will be a litany of the narrator’s poorer qualities, presented as virtues, so that the woman can make an informed decision about the man she is getting:

My butt ain’t shaved,

I ain’t well behaved,

My driveway ain’t paved,

I only spend what I’ve saved,

From the job where I slaved

But I need to incorporate the title somewhere, and the chorus is the best place to do that. It needs to be something that tells the world that he is proud of who he is, no matter what anyone else might think. Yes, it needs to be something that proclaims this man’s pride, perhaps defiantly — and that is it! Inspiration! My title shall be “Defiantly Country”! And now the final lines of my chorus:

What you get is what you see

I’m just defiantly country!

By abruptly abandoning the chorus’s rhyme scheme, I add greater weight to the couplet. My narrator is so defiant, you see, that he is even rebelling against the structure of his own song!

Now is the time for a new verse. I’d like to establish that my protagonist is perhaps a little bit sinister, by dropping in a line that could be construed as both romantic and dark, an establishment of the narrator’s power over women:

I’m never gonna let you go

But this line won’t work, as I don’t like having another “o” rhyme in this verse, after the o’s in my first verse. But I do like the sentiment, so I will have to rearrange it:

I’m not lettin’ you get away

I’ll be with you every day

We’ll be together for life!

Country women apparently respond well to such an attitude; otherwise, why would the typical country narrator behave with such unapologetic swagger? Now I’d like to throw in a reference to classic country music. I’d like to, but I find it difficult, knowing so little about it. Therefore, I will reference country music I know well.

Your lovin’s like the sweetest gift

Like somethin’ out of Taylor Swift

Can’t wait till we’re man and wife!

Ah, I’m almost done. I’d like to put in something about simple, hometown life, and/or fishing. Perhaps in the form of couplets I can place between my two verses and the chorus:

I used to spend my time at the fishin’ hole

Since I met you I got a brand new goal

Oh dear. Well, this is a first draft. Let’s try something about life in a small town, with perhaps a nod to the narrator’s mother, since I forgot to mention her before,

This small town livin’s good enough for me

Plenty of honky tonks and a strong fam’ly tree

I couldn’t think of a way to specifically mention “mother,” but I fear being too “on the nose,” and besides, we know that “mother” means “family.” Yes, those will do. Now, let’s have our protagonist become a brute, chanting madly as the song reaches its end:

Defiantly country-da-da-da-de-de-de-

-de-Defiantly country-da-da-da-de-de-

-de-Defiantly country-da-da-da-de-de

etc.

The exhilaration of the creative process is difficult to describe, even for a wordsmith like me. Perhaps it’s similar to the feeling of excitement that a person of the soil gets when he rearranges the furniture in his loathsome living room and prances about with his cornfed wife, or spins the wheels of his pick up truck. Oh, I forgot to put a pickup truck and god in my song!

Don’t need a license to drive an ol’ truck,

Just need a love of god an’ a whole lotta pluck

Let that couplet replace the first one, the one about the fishing hole. Or perhaps it could be thrown in before the second repeating of the chorus.

I am just so pleased to have taught myself enough about an entirely new (to me) musical form to have created a brand new example of it. I’m so inspired, I’d like to take a look at another alien musical form.

Perhaps that which is known as “hip-hop”?

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Ricky Sprague

Ricky Sprague occasionally writes and/or draws things. He sometimes animates things. He has a Twitter account and he has a blog. He scripted this graphic novel about Kolchak The Night Stalker. He is really, really good at putting links in bios.

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