I’m on the road again, in one of those towns where there really aren’t any restaurants besides chains. So I went to the nearest place within walking distance of my hotel — a Longhorn Steakhouse.
For a chain joint, the Longhorn isn’t bad. The servers are nice, the place is clean, and the food is decent and reasonably priced. There’s only one problem — the soundtrack at the Longhorn is “modern country,” which is enough to make pretty much any rational diner lose their appetite. If there’s a more soulless, generic, synthesized, cookie-cutter music genre out there these days, I don’t know what it is.
I have no idea who modern country artists are — I just know they all sound the same. The only thing that’s “country” about them is that they wear cowboy hats and try to sing with a twang. Other than than, they’re indistinguishable from soulless, generic, synthesized, cookie-cutter pop stars. As musical performers go, the modern country “stars” seem to be all hat and no cattle — pathetic, lamentable posers who aren’t fit to carry the boots of the country music stars who came before them.
It’s sad, really. Country music used to be interesting, with artists like Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, Merle Haggard, George Jones, and Tammy Wynette. They actually seemed to care about the songs they wrote and sang. There was feeling in every chord. Calling the modern bastardization of the genre “country music” really is an insult to the authentic, roots-related music that was produced way back when.
Fortunately, “modern country” is so generic that it’s like elevator music — easy to tune out. I read my book, ate my steak, and pretty much ignored the twangy sameness. You wouldn’t have been able to say that about the country stars and songs of the past.