It wasn’t just that it was bad country. It’s that it was just bad music, and the assessment of this was almost universal. There stands Brantley Gilbert with his stupid brass knuckles microphone and cheesy Affliction T-shirt machismo attitude, and his bandmates with their mohawks and dreadheads miming to a backing track
“Kinfolks” is Sam Hunt thinking you’ll consider this a country song just because the lyrical hook is a rural colloquialism. This is what passes for “country” in Sam Hunt’s book, while we’re supposed to ignore the clap track and hip-pop phrasing. Sam Hunt left a huge mess behind in country music when he disappeared a few years ago.
The entirety of Blake Shelton’s career just devolved quicker than a political discussion with your drunk and racist uncle at Thanksgiving dinner. All the headway country music has made over the last couple of years, and now we have to figure out how to maneuver around this “Hell Right” bullshit.
Believe it or not, Sam Hunt released his debut record now nearly six years ago. Sam hasn’t just been slow on delivering a sophomore record, he’s been outright missing in action. There were rumors about Sam Hunt outright retiring. But his long drought of not recording new music is about to be over.
Dear NFL Fans, As the true disciples and aficionados of actual country music, we want to formally apologize to you all for the bad country music and doltish characters you will be forced to endure during this week’s NFL Draft coverage. Please accept our deepest apologies.
For the pot holiday 4/20, the Godfather of Bro-Country Brantley Gilbert reminds us that our prayers to country music Jesus to inflict pestilence upon his singing voice, or at least permanently impair him with chronic laryngitis to render him irrevocably unable to perform have gone wholly unanswered.
At this point you just can’t even look away. Like coming up on some grizzly roadside accident, you know it’s going to be grotesque, horrific, and mentally scarring for the rest of your life. But even as you cover your face, the index finger raises ever so slightly, and you sneak a peep. And yes, it’s as bad as you expected.
Maren Morris is a victim. Just ask her about how she’s so put under and oppressed by this draconiously restrictive genre known as country music. Well, Maren Morris, if you feel like country music is too restrictive in it’s “stupid mold,” then you can get the hell out!
Jason Aldean will receive the Dick Award for the Decade from the ACMs come April—“Dick” being for Dick Clark, who this decade award was just renamed after, and who luckily is dead so he doesn’t have to see his name besmirched by being associated with the likes of Jason Aldean.
“Twelve Days of Country Radio Christmas” as set to the final verse of “Twelve Days of Christmas,” orig. composition 1780, England. Modern composer © Frederic Austin circa 1909. Current composer Kyle “Trigger” Coroneos © 2018.
Of course people are different. We learn that at six-years-old. Of course everyone should be respectful to each other, and try to see other people’s perspectives. But this is the premise for a nursery rhyme, not a country song. Adults use subtly, nuance, and story to get important points across they wish to convey in music.
We took the time to celebrate some of the Best Songs Released in 2018, as well as some of the Best Albums, so now it’s time to place a clothespin firmly on our noses, slip on some elbow-length rubber gloves, and go digging through the cesspool that is radio country to dredge up the absolute worst offenses.
Cute, Florida Georgia Line, cute. Call your latest album Can’t Say I Ain’t Country and act as if this somehow insulates you against what any country music fan worth their salt already knows inherently. I can, and will say you ain’t country if I damn well please, as will the rest of us.
Bad pop star Walker Hayes recently infiltrated the mainstream country ranks after unleashing the terrible hit “You Broke Up With Me.” Now this hack is going out on tour, and since he has no original thoughts, Walker and his PR team have chosen to put the task of naming the upcoming tour in the hands of the unwashed masses.
If you’ve ever doubted the existence of a higher power, or the ability in all of its supreme benevolence to summon the forces of nature and impose its will upon the crust of the Earth, perhaps you now have a reason to hit your knees.
The very mild and misappropriated traditional country moments in “Down To The Honky Tonk” are not what make this song appealing or even redeemable to true country fans, it’s what’s wrong with it. The whole premise of “Down To The Honky Tonk” is a dud.
Country music still needs saving ladies and gentlemen, and is still searching for the absolute statistical rock bottom when it comes to quality and substance in songs. Defining the “worst” has officially reached new parameters. So let’s cover our ears, pinch our noses, and set these stinking piles of refuse up to ceremoniously knock them down.
Well, it’s happened. After Music Row hijacked the term “Outlaw” and ran it into the ground with uncool pop country douchewads to the point where the term is virtually unable to be rehabilitated, they’re now moving on to the term “real country” with help from Shania Twain and Jake Owen.
In 10 years and 11 days of owning and operating Saving Country Music dot com, I have never once seen someone display such bold-faced effrontery and wanton disrespect for the gorgeous and historic institution of country music as this wash up and his $50,000 diamond-encrusted gauge earrings.
Spectacularly relevant to 2014, “Hotdamalama” from Parmalee is the Bro-Country mega hit that never was, served with ragingly misogynistic language and imagery that would get you fired from 95% of 2018 workplaces with no severance and a sexual harassment lawsuit trailing your decommissioned ass out the door.
Who the hell is Jordan Davis you say? Well he’s that pop country guy; you know, the one with the beard. Because how the hell else would you tell him apart for the reams and reams of these generic pop country bros stacked up so thick up and down Music Row you need a cattle guard to get through them?
WARNING: LANGUAGE – Somehow, inexplicably, Keith Urban has figured out how to take the most iconic guitar riff in the entire 70+ year history of country music, and make it sound like the last dying gasps of a faulty smoke detector smacked repeatedly with a sledge hammer, and slowly drowning it in a bucket of 7-year-old used motor oil.
For many true country music performers, the bug to write, sing, and play country music bit them at an early age, and never left. For others, country music is simply a vehicle for fame and riches. Specifically, many of them first tried to make it in professional sports before flunking out or getting sidelined with injury.
Jake Owen ain’t Jack. And he ain’t no Mellencamp either. It appears the years of prolonged exposure to radioactive bronzer treatments have finally all but officially fried his brain. Yes this song makes me nostalgic. It makes me nostalgic for a time in music when new songs from country artists weren’t complete and utter shite.