Confessions (1)

A few nights ago I had a very hard conversation with my wife.  It went something like this:

"Ashley, I have something I need to tell you," I said.

"I hate it when you start a conversation like that, it makes me nervous," Ashley replied.  "Do I really want to know?  What is it?"

The pit in my stomach was formidable now.

"I'm not sure how to say this to you," I continued.  "But...it's something you need to know."

"Just tell me Jeff!"

There was no turning back now.  It was time to come clean.

"Okay...I've been listening to Country music," I admitted.

The look was one of utter disgust.  And to be honest, I deserved it.  I'd been the Saul of 'Country' my entire life.  Dismissing it, disparaging it, persecuting all who listened to it.  How could people enjoy this!?!?  It was so simple, so corny, so lame!!!

And then (seemingly overnight) - 1) I had a kid - 2) and looked at the world - 3) and became a hypocrite.

(Back to the conversation)

"WHY!?!?  Why would you do something like that?  What are your reasons?" Ashley demanded.

Here's why - and believe me this reasoning is riddled with holes.  But I started to imagine family vacations, working in the garage with the radio on, taking Kota to soccer practice - and the content of the music that very well may end up shaping her life (our lives).  And here's what I've come to realize...

Observation #1:
Country music's primary audience - it's intended audience - is people who are in loving, committed, monogamous relationships.  That's what they're singing about, that's what they're working toward, that's the goal.

Hip Hop's primary audience - it's intended audience - is people who are in casual, non-committed, 'loose' relationships.  Hence the multiple references to 'booty', 'hoes', and 'creeping in the club' (holy crap I sound old).

All I'm saying is that I would take my daughter to a Kenny Chesney concert; but I'd never take her to a Ludacris concert.  I've been to one of those.

Observation #2:
Country music produces happy thoughts, pictures, emotions in me.  There remains a real, a simple, a true innocence about life (and all that comes with it). Of course this does include some major "cheese" - which my cynicism pounces on like a pack of cheetahs on a baby gazelle.  But more often than not I find myself carefree, buoyant, thankful when listening to it.

I remember often ridiculing my college buddies for their small-town naivety (they of course loved Country).  Maybe the truth was that I wanted to see the world like they did all along.

It seems to me that the only genre that does as much (or more) to inspire this outlook - is worship music.  And don't get feisty, I'm not giving these the same value - but they may be just a few of the influences that my dad would throw into the 'edification' bag.

Now I could be wrong, but listening to bands, artists, performers - exalting their libido, rattling off their sexual exploits, talking about their cash-money-records - these may not fit into that bag.  But...those beats are hott (and yeah I used two t's).  Kota just rolled her eyes at me (and she's only a month old).  

Observation #3:
Country music (prepare now your exasperated cringe) - Country music tells great stories.  I remember driving Tim Aalsma's Chevy Blazer to class when I was a freshman at Northwestern - making sure the windows were rolled up tight as I put Kenny Rogers "The Greatest" single into the CD player.  It tells of a little boy whose unyielding optimism - takes his ongoing failure - and turns it into his greatest success.

Life is a collection of stories - ones we move in, breath in, exist in (someone write that down).  I suppose that I'd like my little girl living in the chapters of a Country song - with family and chivalry and romance - rather than in the pages of Pop - with skin and sin and weekend benders.

I'm not really sure how to end this post.  I don't think I see myself wearing wranglers, or watching rodeo, or even searching Rascal Flatts on i-tunes (can't stand those dudes).  And so maybe Country music is just a mark, a symbol, a sign - one that points to the reality of being a father - and wanting a safer, a softer, a more innocent world for my daughter to live in.  Or...maybe I'm just a big puss.