Don’t worry, this week’s piece has no double meanings.
When I transitioned from RadioDisney to Country music, there was no going back. I became the eight-year-old sitting in the back of my dad’s truck belting Miranda Lambert’s Gunpowder and Lead. Every mother’s dream, right?
As you probably suspected, my mother was less than pleased at this. But I had myself a grand ol’ time.
Since then, my love for Country music has only grown, despite how much it set me apart from others my age growing up. Believe it or not, not too many kids in suburban Indy preferred George Strait to Justin Bieber.
I got to a point where I couldn’t stand anything that wasn’t Country. And I was a stubborn child, so this caused some issues. (My parents are chuckling reading that part, I guarantee you.)
I even reached a point where I swore the newer Country music was terrible and that the older classics couldn’t be beat. I mean, The Highwaymen against OneDirection? There’s no question in my book. (Although, the thought of The Highwaymen as a boy band is incredibly comical. If you know, you know.)
These opinions still mostly hold true, though I have come to like some of the newer stuff that comes out. But when it comes to the story and the history in it all, the classics just can’t be overlooked.
I’ve been a bit of a Country nerd, if you will, for a while. Nashville is one of my all-time favorite places, I’ve seen the two more recent films about Hank Williams more than once, I enjoyed every second of the musical “The Million Dollar Quartet” about Elvis, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins and Jerry Lee Lewis messing around in the recording studio. I’ve even met George Jones’ wife.
I haven’t met too many folks my own age who truly enjoy Country music, who know Jimmy Dean from songs like Big John as opposed to the breakfast food line. But I hold tight to what I like because it makes me happy and it ties me to others who have come before me.
There’s history there that shouldn’t be forgotten.