Country Concession

I have a confession to make, dearest readers and friends. It shames me to the core to admit it, but I have to get this off my chest. I, your lovely Katie and Queen of Pseudo-Rivendell...actually is starting to like country music. Yes, you did read that correctly. I was renowned for my abject loathing of country music, and there is a lot I still strongly dislike. If the accent is too heavy and it sounds honky-tonk, forget it. But there is a whole new realm of country out there that I just feel myself being drawn to.......

Sorry. Just squished an ant. How did an ant get on my computer???

But I digress.

To continue, this country music is so happy and joyful, and...and...so deeply and inherently southern! When I put in Nickel Creek, or Carrie Underwood, or Little Big Town, or Rascal Flatts, or my newest obsession, Keith Urban, I just have to get into it. These are people that are in touch with the heartbeat of America. The south still remembers patriotism, honesty, and the fact that there was a man named Jesus. I mean, look at these lyrics from the Little Big Town song "Boondocks":

I feel no shame
I'm proud of where I came from
I was born and raised in the boondocks
One thing I know
No matter where I go
I keep my heart and soul in the boondocks

And I can taste
That honeysuckle and it's still so sweet
When it grows wild
On the banks down at old camp creek
Yeah, and it calls to me like a warm wind blowing

It's where I learned about living
It's where I learned about love
It's where I learned about working hard
And having a little was just enough
It's where I learned about Jesus
And knowing where I stand

You can take it or leave it, this is me
This is who I am
Give me a tin roof
A front porch and a gravel road
And that's home to me
It feels like home to me

And then, of course, we have the magnificent Keith Urban. I can’t fathom how this guy suddenly became so incredible to me. I mean, isn’t he the dude that’s married to Nicole Kidman? And isn’t he an Australian? How did an Australian get such an amazing country voice? What, did he make a deal with the devil or something? It’s beyond me. I’m utterly baffled. But I do love his music. My current favorite is “Stupid Boy,” some of the jewels from it being:

Well, she was precious like a flower
She grew wild, wild but innocent
A perfect prayer in a desperate hour
She was everything beautiful and different

Stupid boy, you can't fence that in
Stupid boy, it's like holding back the wind
she laid her heart and soul right in your hands
And you stole her every dream and you crushed her plans
She never even knew she had a choice and that's what happens
When the only voice she hears is telling her she can't
Stupid boy, stupid boy

Come on, those lyrics are amazing! You can’t help but agree with me, because I’m just awesome like that. The end result is inevitable. Just give up the fight and move on with your day. Just kidding, of course, you’re welcome to dislike the lyrics—I just won’t understand your reasoning for this lack of judgment.

In any case, I was contemplating this new love of mine earlier today. I’ve had a very pleasant day so far. After some getting-Shelby-to-work confusion this morning that had me up a little earlier than I would have liked, I got dressed and left to pick up eighteen pizzas for Mom’s yearbook workshop today. Let me tell you, folks, eighteen pizzas that have just come out of the oven that are packed into my little bitty car on a ninety-degree day put out a LOT of heat. I could have sworn that I was the nineteenth pizza that was suddenly in an unusually shaped oven. However, I soon had the pizzas unloaded at the school and I was free to go about my business. Mom’s boss was kind enough to give me some gas money for my troubles, and I ended up using it for lunch. I, being the dork that I am, sat in the corner of Burger King with my little meal and read “Jane Eyre.” Hey, I’d finished the Howl’s Moving Castle books and I don’t have my C.S. Lewis yet. Besides, I really like Jane. She’s so innocent, but with an astounding depth of perception.

After this nerdy repast, I got into my car and began to drive toward the other end of town. And yes, I was playing country in my car. Loudly. There I am, alone in the driver’s seat, and I’m TOTALLY rocking out to “Where the Blacktop Ends.” I’m bouncing my head and drumming on the steering wheel and singing along, and I was having the time of my life. It was terribly refreshing. And that’s what I did in-between the myriad of other errands I had to run—the bank, Target, and then back down to pick up Shelby at work. I was kind, though, and didn’t force her to listen to my country. She doesn’t like it. We’re going to have to work on that one.

So if you need something that’s just cheerful and fun and has some great instrumentals, give country a chance.