A woman's place is in a bad song

Me, all of two days ago: What am I gonna write about if all the bad music goes good?

Me, now:

I'll preface this by saying, I've never really considered myself a feminist. I'm a pretty traditional woman for the most part, though of course I support women being able to do anything men can do.* But personally, I embrace some of the old-fashioned ways and think they still work. That said... I think I just burned my bra. I mean, I think I just spontaneously combusted and my bra burned up along with the charred remains of my soul. Or something.

*except pee standing up.

Sorry for embedding this on you, blog. I hope we can still be friends.



So I just saw this on my favorite country snark sites this morning and commented on it a bit, but I still can't quite wrap my head around it. Or even worse (yep, there's something worse than this!), Maggie Rose's comments to Rolling Stone:

"The irony is that bro country is male dominated, but women are driving the subject matter," muses the singer-songwriter.

Sure, if women can drive with their asses. While wearing skintight jeans.

"I like what's happening in country music right now. There is a place for women, if we just find our niche. Don't fight it; embrace it."

*stares with mouth open* Wow. What do I even DO with this, seriously? It's so sad and misguided and even a little dangerous, it defeats my will to snark. By all means, let's tell women to know their "place" and just embrace it! If you can't beat em join em, amirite? - said no women's rights advocate ever. What is this "place," exactly? The stone age? Wherever men decide to put us? "Gosh, I sure hope he doesn't misplace me like he does his keys! Then I won't know what my place is!" (Hint: you're probably between the couch cushions.)

And geez, I don't like going here, but there are some kinda rapey undertones there. I'm NOT saying she's calling for girls to get raped, sheesh, but I do think putting that message of submission out there to young women, even in a different context, is harmful. She should know better. She should care.

"So this is a cool song to sing from my perspective; it's the female answer to what's happening in country music right now… and it's very much a part of my personality."

Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. If you look in the mirror and repeat it 3 times, you'll start to believe it. Either that or Candyman will appear, I forget.

"I'm more confident than I was last year," she says. "I want to be a big player in country music, and this is the kind of music people are gravitating towards."

Translation: "Making real music didn't work, I'm ready to sell out and be famous now. Nashville, do your worst!" *strikes her best "confident" pose on the hood of some guy's truck*

Sooo good news ladies, there's a "niche" for us after all! ...right between the cup holder and the cigarette lighter.

Country love songs back in my day:

"Adalida, pretty little cajun queen.
Sweet dixie flower, the belle of the bayou-
You're every young man's dream.
Adalida, I'd walk through a hurricane
To stand beside you sweet Adalida I'd swim the Pontchartrain."

"And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance, I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance."

Now:

"Get in my truck."
Or, if he's feelin' romantic: "Get in my truck, girl."

And pain? What is this "pain" you speak of? Frat boys don't feel pain bro, we just drink another brew and get another tat! Pain is for wussies who wear shirts, amirite bro?

I really need to stop poking things.

But I poked the hornet's nest of bad country music, and kept poking, and finally this came out and stung me right on the face.

TRUCK YEAH, by Tim McGraw. Tim freaking McGraw, one of the last of the old 90s stars who's still active, has joined the ranks of those who sold their soul for a set of tires and a six-pack. This song is every bit as awful as you'd imagine, maybe even worse. Well, I still like Southern Voice, and that wasn't too long ago... eh, that was over three years ago now. I think Tim McGraw has officially passed his expiration date. It was nice knowing you, Tim. In my heart I'll always see you everywhere, especially where the green grass grows. I liked it, I loved it, but I don't want any more of it.

This song is even more plaintive now.



"Pleeeease remember meeeeee... for this song, not some ridiculous crap I put out when I'm 45 and trying desperately to be relevant by riding the coattails of some terrible trend."

TRUCK ME.