This isn’t very good.
Perhaps it could have been, with a stronger melody and a more refined concept. The song itself is pretty good, but Evans turns in a listless performance, delegating all of the “oomph” to the background vocalists and studio musicians. And they’re pretty listless in their own right.
I’m getting tired of the dime store theology in country music today. It’s officially reached pandemic proportions.
Up for airplay are two new singles in which religion is just a decorative prop used to elevate a human role to something divine. Instead of achieving that impossible goal, all they do is cheapen the divine into something that is only human.
Love ain’t no fairytale.
The latest single from Carrie Underwood knows and embraces this. I can’t remember another wedding song that is so understated in its declarations. As she prepares to marry, she reassures her mother that this man is good. That’s pretty much it.
Pretty much it on paper, at least. But notice how the term is repeated – “He is good, so good.” Underwood chooses to emphasize those five words more than any others in the song, singing them as if just being good is enough to qualm a worried mother’s fears for her daughter’s future.
Most of us can admit that Toby Keith is a premier balladeer. Something that has been largely forgotten about him in the last few years, however, is that he’s also rather good at having good fun too. Lately, he’s mostly associated with swagger and subpar music (with the exception of some decent ballads here and there), but “Trailerhood” is here to remind us of how jovial Keith can sound when he lets his boisterous guard down and just allows himself to have some fun.
Country boy, you got your feet in L.A. Again.
The country boy as fish out of the water in Los Angeles. Or New York. Or Detroit. It’s a pretty common theme in country music. Jamey Johnson does his own spin on this theme with his new single, “Playing the Part.” It’s not terribly bad, but it’s not terribly good, either. “Big City” certainly doesn’t have to worry about losing its slot on the Waffle House Jukebox.
Maybe it’s a product of their new home, Big Machine Records, or maybe it’s their way of responding to the monster success of Lady Antebellum – but the Flatts boys are back on their game.
For five years and three albums, we’ve heard only a watered-down brand of Rascal Flatts: their signature tight harmonies have been masked by overblown production, and their typically well-crafted melodies have seemed stale. Their music as of late has generally lacked the spark that turned their early 2000s hits into gems.
I could write a few paragraphs about why I love this song, but what’s the point?
They don’t sing the praises of Bubble Yum and S’Mores in Food & Wine magazine, but boy, do those treats taste good.
So you’ll have to look for the country connoisseur perspective elsewhere. All I have to say about “Stuck Like Glue” is this:
Where do you go from the top of the world? It’s a question all kinds of music icons have had to answer, but it’s hard to imagine most of them facing Taylor Swift’s level of pressure. Consider her standing: an American Sweetheart adored by young people and respected by their parents, staple of multiple radio formats, winner of commercial music’s very biggest awards, but facing sharp backlash for embarrassing live vocals, for a narrow songwriting perspective, and all in the most media-pervasive climate ever, a fame minefield where one bad move can mean national embarrassment – and all, of course, before she turns twenty-one.
A common element that runs through Brad Paisley’s songs is a style of conversational storytelling. To many it seems simple and authentic while others just feel it’s simplistic without real depth. Depending on the song, either opinion is relevant or in some instances, both views are valid within the same song. “Anything Like Me” just may be one such song, but leaning closer to the positive than negative. The song is written in the trademark conversational tone, but the personal sentimentality of the subject matter is strongly present.
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