She was leaning on a rail in a cotton dress
Summer tanned pretty, little perfect mess
With a story that could only be anybody's guess
And I was thinking that I probably didn't stand a chance
But I rolled up my sleeves, walked up and I said
Hey, I don't know you but I'd kinda like a shot
She said, I saw you comin' over, I already thought it over
And OK, so now what
- I Got A Car, George Strait
In these summer months of sunny, seaside moments and criss-cross drives around the state, I always find myself gravitating towards country music.
The Fourth of July offered another chance to delve into a world built on Nashville hooks and honky-tonk beats.
It's weird. In the hustle and bustle of commuter driving in Tampa Bay, I can't compel myself to call up a song by George Strait or Darius Rucker. It's a settling soundtrack that doesn't fit the tire screeching starts and stops of Malfunction Junction.
On an open highway, however, I can allow Billy Currington's Good Directions or Josh Turner's Would You Go With Me to fill the car. Even when I'm on some asphalt ribbon heading north, Jason Aldean's Dirt Road Anthem fits.
Whether it's Joe Nichols touting a chance encounter in Yeah or Miranda Lambert capturing the heartache of morning regrets in Vice, I get hooked on the hopes and the heartache while relaxing in my beach chair.
It's not surprising that Eric Church's Springsteen tells of a romance built around an adoration for Bruce Springsteen. Country music shares a common thread with the gritty voice of America's working man. They both love to tell stories, and more than anything, it's the genre's ability to spin a good yarn that captivates my attention on long drives and lazy afternoons.
No other brand of music crafts stories of romance, hardship and life quite like country music. I don't know all the songs and artists. It's not my favorite music, but every summer I set out to add a few more songs to my country playlist. This season is no different.
Of course, I'm hounded by friends who insist they can never find the good in the music. The twanging guitar and southern-flavored accents serve as an immediate turnoff. It's a disdain, in my opinion, that's rooted in stereotypes.
The discerning ear picks up on the lyrical laments and the throwback innocence in the heart of the music. It also grabs on to the influence of other genres. You're going to hear R&B threads, rock riffs, gospel tinges and even some hip-hop thumps in today's country. It's not a coincidence you find Drake subtly referencing Strait.
It's, indeed, artistry.
Can some of it be a bit cliched? Sure. Mike Calta, host of his own show on 102.5 The Bone, plays a game with listeners where they can pick a certain phrase and if it comes up in the first minute of a country song, they win a prize. You're in pretty good shape if you bet on "pickup truck" or "beer."
In fact, critics once argued country music has a drinking problem, and four of the songs in the current Billboard Top Country 40 list do refer to alcohol in the title. The music has always possessed a complicated relationship with alcohol, teetering between escapism and excess. Some of its stars have succumbed to too much drinking, but the music lives on.
In it all, there's a reality, often unvarnished. As Strait sings, "I ain't here for a long time, I'm here for a good time."
Honestly, country music always found its appeal in candor. And I've found it appealing. I liked country before country was cool, I just didn't realize it.
I listened to Glen Campbell as a kid, never resisted the country strains in Eagles hits and sang Johnny Lee's Looking For Love on drunken Friday nights at Skeeter's Big Biscuit Breakfast House in Gainesville. I played Patsy Cline's Crazy on the jukebox at the old Chatterbox, and Charlie Rich's Most Beautiful Girl In The World remains a favorite.
So if you've resisted giving country a chance, open the blinds, open a beer and open your mind to some down-to-earth music.
You need to know what happened to the guy and girl in I Got A Car.
That's all I'm saying.