familiarity breeds contentedness

I was driving through Western Pennsylvania and West Virginia recently, and listening to commercial country radio. The funny thing for a city type: it ain't all bad. But it got me to thinkin' about another type of music, also tied to a particular American subculture, and just as maligned by hipster intellectual wankers. I'm talking, of course, about commercial hip-hop and R&B.

It had not occurred to me until now that the two genres are not so dissimilar. Fundamentally, country and hip-hip give voice to two cultures, rural southern whites, and urban African-Americans, which have historically seen themselves as marginalized, oppressed, and powerless. Both express cultural pride: in pick-up trucks or spinning rims, kicker bars or the street corner, bottles of bud or blunts. Authenticity is paramount, because if you're not keepin' it real or doin' it right, you've sold out, and no longer represent "us". It's another manifestation of the importance of familiarity in a fragmented American melting pot, as discussed in Dr. Faber's review of Bryson's book: cultural signifiers are important, especially when you feel besieged by powerful forces beyond your control.

Musically, mainstream hip-hop and country are essentially conservative, substantively and procedurally. Both the lyrical content and the music are constrained by a formula, although modern hip-hop is much more sonically adventurous than modern country, because the best hits are made by visionary producers, e.g. Timbaland, Kanye, Neptunes, etc., and innovation is prized, as long as it bangs. Still, the primary role of producers in hip-hop and R&B is a throwback to the pre-Beatles pop world of the 50s, where the job of the stars was to sing a pre-written song and get out of the way of the producer who made the record. Similarly, Nashville country depends on its Tin Pan Alley of songwriters (has Garth Brooks or George Straight ever written a song?), and a steady supply of session musicians. So both genres eschew the 60s ideal of the popular musician as artist, creating a personal statement in the form of poetry and music. Instead they produce music as commodity.

Of course, these commodified hits are more surface glitter than deep emotion, more cheap hook than slow revelation. But so what? Forget about the boring questions of legitimacy of pop art. There's nothing wrong with enjoying Snoop Dogg or Jay-Z or the Carrie Underwood song I heard the other day. They're recorded to be fun. I love all the usual "over-ground" acts on the fringes of both hip-hop (The Roots, Common, Blackalicious) and country (Lyle Lovett, Wilco, Billy Joe Shaver), as much as the next intellectual wanker. I just think we should stop hatin' on the fake cowboys and playas, cause they just wanna entertain us. What's wrong with that, I'd like to know?