Northerners need country songs about their own particular interests. Like ridin' snowmobiles. And ice fishing. And making maple syrup.
Last month I went to a wedding in Richmond, Va., and drove down Monument Row, which features a series of giant statues depicting Southern civil war heroes. Growing up in New England, you take it as sort of a given that the Confederacy was the bad guy in the Civil War. You know, the pro-slavery agrarian secessionists bent on destroying America—as those biased Northern textbook manufacturers would have it.
Granted, guys like Jefferson Davis and Robert Lee are historic figures, but they lost, and Monument Row was startling because America doesn’t celebrate losers. At the surrender at Appomattox, Grant should’ve demanded that Lee sign a form declaring, “There shall be no statues of any of us losers, because we lost, and even though it’s mildly impressive that we managed to build a submarine in the 1800s, the only future monument to my life shall be a totally awesome orange Dodge Charger that can jump over barns. Signed, Robert E. Lee.”
All of this brings me, naturally, to country music. I’ve embarked on a few road trips lately that have taken me to the hinterlands where country music is about the only thing on the FM dial. And, after listening to a fair helping of modern country music, I’ve come to the conclusion that northern country fans need their own tunes.
Despite Robert E. Lee’s best efforts, this is still one big country, and therefore the life experiences and priorities of the northern redneck are not necessarily reflected in music produced by the Southern hillbilly. For example, I was driving through Canada when I heard the song “People are Crazy,” which tells the story of a male bonding session that takes place in a bar in Ohio. I mean, can Canadians even relate to a story set in an exotic sunny paradise like Ohio? And if they nevertheless enjoy such music, imagine how much more they’d enjoy it if it made cultural references they could understand, like workin’ on the Alberta oil sands, eatin’ at Tim Horton’s, drinkin’ Molson and watchin’ hockey. I think I just wrote the next Canadian country music hit. Somebody get me a twangy guitar and a lumberjack shirt.
In other major music genres, offshoots of the form tend to eventually spread over the entire nation. Hip-hop has the East Coast, the West Coast and whatever planet Lil’ Wayne came from. Rock is international. But country music is very much of a place, and that place is the American south. Consider these lyrics from Josh Thompson’s “Beer on the Table”: “Once the bills are paid and that bass boat tank has gone from E to F, I fill that big ol’ cooler up there ain’t a whole lot left.” While bass boats do exist north of the Mason-Dixon, they’re much more of an inland Southern phenomenon. If you showed up at the Pemaquid lobster boat races in a bass boat, you’d be laughed straight out to Monhegan Island.
Easton Corbin’s “I’m a little more country than that” asks listeners to, “Imagine a dirt road full of pot holes, with a creek bank and some cane poles, catching channel cat. I’m a little more country than that.” After the part about potholes I’m completely lost, but I infer that southerners somehow use canes to catch cats. Mr. Corbin, if his boasts are valid, is even a little more country than that.
Certain country music tropes are universal—the desire for a loyal soulmate, a nice truck, a dog who don’t chew up yer guns. But other concerns of the New England rural dweller are sadly unrepresented. Where are the country songs about snowstorms, gay marriage and coffee brandy? What about lobstering, moose hunting and riding snowmobiles? Has Toby Keith ever made his own maple syrup? No, because if he had, there’d be a song called, “I made my own maple syrup and I ain’t sharin’ it with no illegal immigrants.”
Here’s a song I just made up for my northern country music aficionados. I call it, “Your driveway ain’t all I want to plow.”
I love diggin’ clams and eatin’ mussels from Maine,
I love the smell of a moose in the rain.
But I’d trade my Ski-Doo for your lovin’ right now
Cause your driveway ain’t all I want to plow.
The South has warm weather, all the manufacturing jobs and college football teams that are actually good. It’s not fair that they also have a monopoly on hokey song lyrics about fishing. Plus, it’s past time that the North had another win. So get ready, South. In the words of Abraham Lincoln, take your tongue outta my mouth, cause I’m kissing you goodbye.