You Haven't Lived Until You've Loved Country Music

Banner by Cate Banks

By Stephanie Weber

I’m a country music fan. Are you? 

Odds are, you’ll respond with a sour face and say “I like all music, but not country.” I find, based on this interaction, so many in our generation hate country music with a burning passion. It’s true not all of us were raised on country music like me, but there are other reasons this music is hated. It took me a while to get into the genre, but eventually I did.

I was raised on ‘80s pop, classical piano, and 2000s country, but I didn’t respond to country in the same way I responded to the first two. For the majority of my life I was vehemently against anything my parents liked. I desperately wanted to fit in with my peers so I refused to listen to country music at all. It wasn’t until I took a trip to Virginia this past summer that I finally got in touch with my country roots. 

On our drive down, my friend and I listened to our collaborative nine-hour playlist featuring pop, indie, and house music. Yet, when we got to Virginia Beach and relied on the radio instead of the aux, all that was playing was country, which to my surprise I enjoyed. Navigating around in an unfamiliar place but listening to the music I grew up on grounded me during my vacation and driving the long journey from Connecticut to Virginia Beach with the same person in a small sudan. This music brought me back to the bright days of childhood, when things were simpler and the biggest problem was arguing what to listen to next. We stayed in Virginia for a long weekend and on the exhaustive drive back we chose to exclusively listen to country music. Tunes from girlboss icons Carrie Underwood and Miranda Lambert, groups Lady A and Little Big Town, and all-time favorites Dierks Bently, Tim McGraw, and Luke Bryan filled the car. Giving country music a chance was the best thing I could’ve done on this trip. 

Prior to this summer, there were few country songs I enjoyed. Notably, “Stuck Like Glue” by Sugarland, “Dear John” by Taylor Swift, and my most-loved hidden gem “Watching You” by Rodney Atkins were my favorites. I have been a fiend for sad, yearning music usually drawing from indie or acoustic stylings even from a young age. When I first listened to “Watching You,” I was seven in a booster seat in the back of my dad’s pick-up truck. I was the youngest, surrounded by my parents, older sister, and even older pets. I longed to grow up faster and do all big kid things like begin middle school and get an iPhone. I wanted to be just like my parents, too, telling everyone that I was going to be a teacher like my mom and be a big “boss man” like my dad. The lyrics in “Watching You” put my once indescribable feelings into words: “I’m your buckaroo, I wanna be like you / And eat all my food and grow as tall as you are” and “Yeah we’re just alike, hey ain’t we dad / I wanna do everything you do.” Even now that I’m grown, I find myself drawn to this song because it brings me back to my roots. It draws me in, forcing me to reconcile that I’m not like my parents in many ways but will always be their child and seek their validation. 

“Watching You” is nothing like typical country songs about a big green tractor, drinking cheap whiskey around a fire pit, or picking up hot chicks at a dive bar, nor is it about patriotism, the military, or driving down a red dirt road with one hand on the steering wheel and the other out the window. These topics are only relatable if they resonate with your life story. For me, some of them do: I grew up in a military family that enjoyed spending time outdoors, eating good food with good company. When my parents turned on the radio in the late 2000s and early 2010s, country music was a safe choice for young ears because it included themes about family, friends, and love. By contrast, the country music on the radio today is raunchy and vulgar. Popular country songs are too often based in misogyny, insensitivity towards alcoholism, and religion, usually with a political tinge to them, representing a small fraction of the common discography of the genre. 

Perpetuating harm is evident in songs like “Drinkin’ Problem” by Midland or “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” by Joe Nicols, but all music genres have these themes. “Drinkin Problem” includes the lyrics “They keep on talkin’ / Drawing conclusions / They call a problem, I call a solution” which are equally as bad as “She might come home in a tablecloth / Yeah tequila makes her clothes fall off” by Nicols. Not to mention the countless country songs objectifying women, like “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk” by Trace Adkins singing the lyrics “Now Honey, you can't blame her / For what her mama gave her.” The debate of separating the art from the artist has been long discussed but rarely in the context of country music. For example, artists in the hip-hop and rap industries like Tyler, The Creator and Kayne West have produced songs about abusing women that are easily worse than some country songs. Tyler, The Creator’s 2011 collaboration with Frank Ocean on “She” tells the story of stalking and raping a woman in her bedroom. The lyrics “I want to tie her body up and throw her in my basement / Keep her there, so nobody can wonder where her face went” on “Sarah” are deeply grotesque and disturbing. Similarly, Kanye West raps about how he “got a sister-in-law you would smash? / I got four of them” on “XTCY” or “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex / Why? I made that bitch famous” on The Life of Pablo (2016). Yet, we continue to listen to these musicians despite their problematic and dangerous lyrics. The decision to preach one thing and do another is universal—I do it too—but to dismiss just country music but not other genres is hypocritical. 

Those songs secure that idea why so many people hate country music; it represents what is bad in this world. What we fail to discuss, however, are the countless musicians and songs that do justice to the genre. Martina McBride’s “This One’s for the girls” is a favorite of mine, wherein she encourages girls of all ages to “Stand your ground when everybody’s givin’ in.” I also love “All-American Girl” by Carrie Underwood telling the story of a father who wanted a son but fell in love with his newborn daughter instead, watching her grow up and fall in love. Men sing about these themes too, like Blake Shelton’s “Honey Bee” with its heartwarming chorus of poetic rhymes like “You’ll be my soft and sweet / I’ll be your strong and steady.” On a sadder level, there’s “I Don’t Dance” by Lee Brice, with main lyrics like “Spinnin’ you ‘round and ‘round in circles / It ain’t my style, but I don’t care / I’d do anything with you anywhere.” These songs are artistic and beautifully sensitive to all audiences. I love how endearing they are, telling the listener a story they can’t help but fall in love with. 

Country music has always been this way, with classic older acts like Townes Van Zandt, Dolly Parton, and Glen Campbell providing listeners with moody yet catchy tunes that have garnered immense popularity. Country music from the ‘60 and ‘70s places its audience in a far-away middle of nowhere town, where everyone is dancing and playing rhythmic instruments like acoustic guitars, banjos, and cowbells. Contemporary country music, as it delves into pop, rap, melancholic indie, and party tunes, has shifted to transporting audiences to modern country spaces like country-dedicated bars or square dancing studios. Songs that trend on TikTok like “Country Girl (Shake It For Me)” by Luke Bryan, “Bait A Hook” by Justin Moore, and “Save a Horse (Ride A Cowboy)” by Big & Rich place me in my local agricultural fair—the one time a year redneck hicks and townies come together and enjoy country and rural aesthetics. We party to songs nearly everyone has heard of like “Red Solo Cup” by Toby Keith and “Chicken Fried” by Zac Brown Band, using what country music was intended to do: create community. 

Our hate for country music isn’t for the genre itself, otherwise there would be no recognition of it on this scale. Rather, we hate the South and what it represents. Compared to other regions in the U.S., the South may be the proudest to be American. With their delicious sweet tea and fabulous drawl, the South reigns supreme in organizing itself as a collective body. As a lifelong New Englander, I envy the South for their emphasis on community and taking life slow, but I don’t share this love with many people, especially in the Northeast. Neither of my parents are from the South, but they knew the importance of bringing their children up on all music, regardless of whether we continuously argued with them to change the station. As I make my own musical decisions, I listen to genres I don’t enjoy or find particularly moving because music is part of our identities. When friends give me suggestions, I take them to heart, knowing that they are sharing part of their world with me. 

Regardless of the genre, music connects us and reminds us that we need to be in community with each other. If I didn’t have a nostalgic connection to country music, I would hate it too—I did until recently. So, you don’t have to love or even like country music, but at least hear it out as a legitimate genre in the music industry. Despite an overwhelming amount of hate for it, country music remains a staple in my repertoire and, after reading my thoughts, I hope yours too.