Tag Archives: Golden Hour

The Problem With the Mainstream Media Coverage of Country Music

Well, Kacey Musgrave’s new album has certainly caused a stir.

At this point, I’m sure many of you are tired of the rash of strong, divisive opinions surrounding this project. Was she uniting fans through genre-defying music, or selling out and forsaking sound and substance? Is the album even country, and what is “real country” these days anyway? I’ve already given my thoughts on her album, as well as discussed the entire genre debate in detail with Zack of The Musical divide, and after this, I promise I’ll just shut up and let you all come to your own conclusions about it all. But this portrayal of Golden Hour by mainstream media who are largely ignorant of the country genre as the album of the year, or some forward-thinking opus that’s “so gutsy it’s not even country” has got to be addressed.

It’s not that these non-country writers shouldn’t cover country music; in fact, the country genre gets ignored too much by the mainstream media and is often given only a cursory glance. And it’s not even that media members who are crowning Kacey Musgraves as some sort of queen of country are necessarily writing a false narrative; maybe they believe the things they write, and probably they do, given the lack of knowledge of other artists who are pushing the genre forward right along with Musgraves. And notice I said “right along with,” as opposed to “better than,” because Courtney Marie Andrews and Lindi Ortega and others aren’t doing more for the genre than Kacey Musgraves; rather, they’re all doing it in different ways, and all of it’s working very well. So even though I have a serious problem with the way the mainstream media is praising this album, I don’t think the answer is to pit other artists against each other.

The problem, though, is the underlying message conveyed by these headlines and by these narratives. Kacey’s country album is “so gutsy it’s not even country,” held up as a record that’s so forward-thinking that it’s left the restrictive, claustrophobic nature of country music behind. Musgraves meant to unite with this album and not to divide; she meant to expand her sound and bring country music to listeners who might not otherwise know the genre. She didn’t make this album to cast the bonds of country away, and that’s how it’s being portrayed by some of the media.

This is disrespectful to country as a genre, and this isn’t about traditional versus contemporary, it’s about the fact that it’s considered brave and risk-taking to abandon country altogether. It’s viewed as an inferior art form sonically, and more than that, it’s held up by many as the sound track to backward rural American life. It’s looked down on as the music of rednecks, of racists, of a backward and simple people who need to be brought into the modern world. Obviously, politics drive some of that narrative, and country purists sometimes don’t help the perceptions by putting their own restrictive limits on things, as we discussed in the collaboration, but these are both topics that can wait for another day. The point is, that putting words like “gutsy” and “country” in opposition to one another, as if country can’t earn this distinction on its own merit, is dangerous and derisive to the music we all love.

Does that mean these writers should stop covering country music? absolutely not; rather, it means they should broaden their perspectives and consider other artists. It’s fine to start with big names like Musgraves, and it’s fine if you don’t care for Lindi Ortega’s or Courtney Marie Andrews’ albums as much, but covering them only adds more context and knowledge of the genre. I can write a piece about a pop album; I can even recommend it and say I enjoyed it. But I can’t write with the same expertise and authority of a pop critic, and it’s disrespectful to the art to pretend that I know what I’m talking about if I’ve only listened to three pop records that year. This is the problem with mainstream critics, not that they shouldn’t write about or cover country, but that it should be considered an equal with the other genres of music, an art form to be explored and loved right beside pop or rock or rap. And yet it gets overlooked, except when projects like this come out. And then, instead of letting it be a window to the sounds and stories of country music, they craft narratives around it framing it a some sort of chain-breaking moment for Kacey Musgraves. Let them embrace country music right along with the rest of us, and then if they want to assign all these achievements to Kacey, I will respect their opinions and understand that their views come from a knowledge of the genre and a passion for the music.

That said, it’s not the ignorance of country music which ultimately makes their narrative a problem, it’s that their narrative comes from a place of condescension, a place where the music we love is meant to be cast aside in favor of progressive ideals and sounds. And in framing their opinions this way, they’ve only done a disservice to Kacey Musgraves and Golden Hour, because this is a personal album, meant to bridge gaps, to unite rather than divide, and to open herself up to the world rather than point fingers at judgmental people. Regardless of how you feel about it, it’s meant to bring more people to country music, not to turn them away, and it’s a shame that the media circus surrounding this may ultimately have that effect.

Album Review: Kacey Musgraves–Golden Hour

Rating: 8.5/10

If there was one common criticism following Kacey Musgraves around after her first two excellent records, it was that she talked too much about other people, focusing her sharp wit and careful turns of phrase outward while not really looking within herself. One mark of a great artist is the ability to be vulnerable, to reach inside yourself and reveal a part of your soul, giving yourself up to scrutiny and judgment. Except for brief glimpses, Kacey Musgraves hadn’t given us that. We hadn’t seen enough of her humanity, and that became doubly apparent when she used so much of her songwriting talent for social commentary and pointed statements toward others. It was beginning to feel like Kacey could remove the specks from her listener’s eyes without examining the logs in her own, and while her first two albums were both outstanding, she needed to change. She needed to be more personal, to give us more of herself on her third record, to expand her horizons before she was put in a box and her witty lyrics started to feel stale.

Like any true artist, Musgraves recognized this. She knew she needed a change, and she delivered us a breath of fresh air with the simultaneous release of “Butterflies” and “Space Cowboy.” Both were personal songs for Kacey, and while they weren’t as strong lyrically as some of her previous work, it could be excused. If these were to reflect the overall quality of the songwriting on this effort, she’d be selling herself short. However, if these were meant to showcase a lighter, more tender side of Kacey and would be backed up by more substance on the album, they were a breath of fresh air and actually a welcome change for her.

The problem, at least for some, was that in embracing a different side of her personality and taking a different lyrical approach, Kacey also changed direction sonically. These two could still be considered country pop, though, and although not as traditional as anything she’d previously recorded, they still sounded like they belonged in the genre itself. Then came the disco song “High Horse,”–and by the way, I don’t care if you love it or hate it, but if you try to sell me on the fact this song is “disco country” somehow, you’re wrong–a polarizing little number that had fans completely divided. Some were worried for the direction of the album. Others praised her for the lively, engaging track. Personally, I had no problem with Musgraves giving us a disco song, but I didn’t care for the song itself, especially because it seemed to echo those familiar tropes about not judging others that characterized her earlier albums.

Now we have the whole album before us, and those same fans that wanted another traditional record from her are going to be disappointed. It’s definitely an experimental, forward-thinking project, and for the most part, the experiment really works.

The first half of this is a country pop album, blending pedal steel and synthesizers, focusing more on the mood of the record and Kacey Musgraves’ vocal delivery than on her songwriting talent. That said, “Butterflies” and “Space Cowboy” do prove to be the lightest songs lyrically on this first half, thereby making them better in the context of the album. We have the introspective, autobiographical opener “Slow Burn” starting us off with the line, “I was born in a hurry, always late, haven’t been early since ’88” to let us know right out of the gate that this album is going to be different, that she’s going to look within and reveal a part of herself to us. This song sets the tone for the whole record, creating this ethereal, dreamlike quality that remains throughout the album. This is probably best exemplified in “Oh, What a World,” a beautifully simple look at all the wonderful blessings and mysteries in this life and what it will mean to leave it all in the end. The mood here adds to the lyrics in the best way; these are traditionally country themes, but with this spacey production, you can imagine yourself staring up at the stars just as enamored by God’s creation as Kacey seems to be. It’s a great example of taking traditional lyrics and themes and pairing them with modern production to make a respectful and forward-thinking statement; in other words, it’s country evolving correctly. And then there’s “Love is a Wild Thing,” one of the standouts here and probably the most country with its acoustic guitars and pedal steel elements prominently in the mix. The melody here is beautiful, and actually, that’s true for much of this record. I’m convinced after several days with this album that Kacey Musgraves is one of the best melodic composers making music currently.

With “Happy & Sad,” the eighth track of thirteen, we come to a transition, and the album becomes basically straight pop. It’s a relatively smooth change because we’ve been easing into this throughout the record; it’s better than if she had opened the album this way. The atmospheric, spacey production continues throughout most of the back half as well, serving to unite this riskier part of the experiment with the earlier tracks. The songwriting does fall off a little here which in turn makes the change in her sound more noticeable. The front half is nearly flawless in terms of songwriting, so you quickly forgive any misgivings you might have had about the sound, but here, on some of the weaker tracks, those questions start to come back. It does close on a high note, however, with the title track and “Rainbow.” The former is just outstanding melodically, perhaps a more mature or introspective version of “Butterflies,” and the latter closes the record with a heartwarming piano ballad encouraging us all to see the rainbow in the midst of life’s storms. This is certainly the weaker half, but mostly, the experiment still works.

There are three distinct places on this album where it doesn’t work. “Mother” is admittedly and predictably gorgeous melodically, but it sounds so unfinished. And why shouldn’t it, when it’s less than a minute and a half long? Kacey’s been all but promoting the use of LSD with this song as she talks about writing it while on LSD and having an overwhelming longing to see her mother, regretting that they live so far apart. But I can’t help thinking that’s why she included it here, just to create an interesting talking point–because if she’d finished this, it would have become a good song, but it’s a song fragment and just interrupts the flow of everything and ruins that spacey vibe so crucial to this record. “Velvet Elvis” is just boring and unnecessary filler and could have been left off a 13-track project without consequence. And “High Horse?” Well, it’s both better and worse in album context. It’s better because among these songs, it doesn’t stick out the way it would have on an album like Pageant Material. It makes more sense sonically. However, “Wonder Woman” would have flowed effortlessly into “Golden Hour,” from the mood to the tempo on down to the key change. Instead, “High Horse” is stuck awkwardly in the middle, and in that sense, it sticks out like a sore thumb and is almost obnoxious. Ironically, I have less of a problem with the song itself now after spending some time with it, but it doesn’t fit the album at all and would have worked better as a standalone single. And once again, it goes back to the themes of her earlier albums lyrically, so it doesn’t fit with the personal nature of this project.

So yeah, this is certainly a different Kacey Musgraves than anything we’ve seen so far. Her sound has changed considerably, and she’s focusing more on melodies and vocal performances than on songwriting. Incidentally, Kacey Musgraves the vocalist has been highly underestimated, and in that sense, this is her best album without question. As far as the sonic changes, that’s going to be a matter of personal preference, but you can’t say that most of this record doesn’t work. I can’t argue with fans who will miss the traditional sound of Kacey’s previous albums, but those who thought that the change in sound would also reflect a change in substance and quality need not have worried. At this point, I don’t know if it’s better or worse than her earlier work, but if anything, it’s proven she can make a thoughtful, substantive country pop record as well as she can make a good traditional one. It shows her versatility and her talent as an artist. It shows her experiencing personal growth as a songwriter, willing to reach within for her reflections instead of focusing her attention outward. Maybe not what we were expecting, but Golden Hour is a great record.

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