Alan Jackson - The Talkin' Song Repair Blues (2004)
*** (of four)
Traditionally, I've never given two shits about country music. In fact, the only country videos I think I've ever reviewed are VH1 crossovers from Shania Twain and Faith Hill. If not for my friend Jason - a musician, songwriter and singer who has vast knowledge of all types of music and is currently traveling to Nashville every few weeks with his guitar-playing partner in attempts to break into country music. So far, Jason and Joe have played showcases and met with executives and song lobbyists. Jason's retellings of these meetings and the Nashville country culture closely resembles Jackson's "Talkin' Song Repair Blues."
Nashville people will listen to your demos and issue you instructions for lyric revisions based on the quality of the writing, the politics of country radio and the overall code of ethics for country music. Which is an opposite checklist for that of hip-hop lyrics - no demeaning women, no badmouthing America and no goldurn cussing.
Jackson focuses more on the lyrical-quality side of the standard Nashville critique to aspiring songwriters. In the song, a country artist's car breaks down, and he's told a bunch of mumbo jumbo by the mechanic - who then reveals himself to be a wannabe country songwriter himself and comes to Alan for advice.
Some of the funnier lyrics, to be appreciated by prose and lyric writers alike: "I know you've been using a cut-rate thesaurus / 'Cause your adverbs have backed up into your chorus / Now your verse is runnin' on verbs that are way too weak." It's a tad bit cutesy, Jackson's copping and reworking of condescending car mechanic speak, but as a song gimmick, it works straight through to the end. The whole thing is an inside joke but not too inside.
Jackson spends the video lip synching outdoors in a mustard-colored suit coat and white straw cowboy hat, while Anthony Clark and Mike O'Malley (both of the sitcom "Yes, Dear") act out and mouth the lyrics as the musician and the mechanic. For two sitcom stars, though, the video's a tad bit subdued - nothing too zany or wacky here. There's no straying from the task at hand, which is to bring the clever-ass lyrics of the song to the forefront.
The more I give country a chance, the more I appreciate the intelligent, tongue-in-cheek gems that dwarf the heavy-handed, apple-pie, flag-waving shit we usually get from Nashville. And it fucking kills me to admit it.
Traditionally, I've never given two shits about country music. In fact, the only country videos I think I've ever reviewed are VH1 crossovers from Shania Twain and Faith Hill. If not for my friend Jason - a musician, songwriter and singer who has vast knowledge of all types of music and is currently traveling to Nashville every few weeks with his guitar-playing partner in attempts to break into country music. So far, Jason and Joe have played showcases and met with executives and song lobbyists. Jason's retellings of these meetings and the Nashville country culture closely resembles Jackson's "Talkin' Song Repair Blues."
Nashville people will listen to your demos and issue you instructions for lyric revisions based on the quality of the writing, the politics of country radio and the overall code of ethics for country music. Which is an opposite checklist for that of hip-hop lyrics - no demeaning women, no badmouthing America and no goldurn cussing.
Jackson focuses more on the lyrical-quality side of the standard Nashville critique to aspiring songwriters. In the song, a country artist's car breaks down, and he's told a bunch of mumbo jumbo by the mechanic - who then reveals himself to be a wannabe country songwriter himself and comes to Alan for advice.
Some of the funnier lyrics, to be appreciated by prose and lyric writers alike: "I know you've been using a cut-rate thesaurus / 'Cause your adverbs have backed up into your chorus / Now your verse is runnin' on verbs that are way too weak." It's a tad bit cutesy, Jackson's copping and reworking of condescending car mechanic speak, but as a song gimmick, it works straight through to the end. The whole thing is an inside joke but not too inside.
Jackson spends the video lip synching outdoors in a mustard-colored suit coat and white straw cowboy hat, while Anthony Clark and Mike O'Malley (both of the sitcom "Yes, Dear") act out and mouth the lyrics as the musician and the mechanic. For two sitcom stars, though, the video's a tad bit subdued - nothing too zany or wacky here. There's no straying from the task at hand, which is to bring the clever-ass lyrics of the song to the forefront.
The more I give country a chance, the more I appreciate the intelligent, tongue-in-cheek gems that dwarf the heavy-handed, apple-pie, flag-waving shit we usually get from Nashville. And it fucking kills me to admit it.
posted by daytime at 4:30 AM
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