DYSPEPSIA GENERATION

We have seen the future, and it sucks.

Keep Your California Out of My Country Music

12th November 2022

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Obese people in skintight, skin-baring outfits. Face tattoos. Throat tattoos. Enormous, exposed chest tattoos. Nose rings. “A minuscule black latex bra.” No, I’m not describing the Met Gala; I’m setting the scene of the 56th annual Country Music Awards, now the trashiest show on earth (see here).

Now, the features mentioned above are can’t-unsee elements of the awards show’s red carpet. The show itself was slightly less awful because it was infused with throwback music, vintage artists and Peyton Manning. But without these saving graces resurrected from a bygone era, the CMAs, and mainstream country music as a whole, would be almost entirely devoid of any character. Larger-than-life legend types — think George Jones, Merle Haggard, Tammy Wynette, the Hanks — with their distinctive voices, authentic twang and real, raw emotion are few and far between these days. And what is American culture without the music that celebrates its country folk and their way of life?

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