It's 9AM
Maybe we should blame The Eagles.
Or Eminem.
I wasn’t really a Luke Bryan fan until I heard my son sing rain makes corn, corn makes whiskey.
And for my 40th birthday, I went to a Tim McGraw concert.
Alone after being stood up by my paramour of the month.
Luke Bryan was one of the opening acts, and I didn’t think I’d miss much so I went to grab a beer.
The line was short, and I was back in my seat in one song.
Plus the cute lady behind the counter gave me her employee discount on the suds because it was my birthday, so after a rough start, things were looking up.
Then old Luke popped up singing Slim Shady and I realized, this wasn’t my Uncle’s country concert.
My uncle was an old school country fan, and none of that Outlaw country too much cocaine crap.
No, he liked George and Patsy and Porter and Dolly, plus Buck Owens and anyone else who showed up on Hee Haw.
And since my Dad wasn’t around much when I was growing up, my brother and I got exposed to country music.
A lot.
When my Dad did visit, he tried to wash away the memory of three chords and the truth with rock and roll riffs and heavy guitars.
Until he met my second step mom, his third wife.
She was a Louisiana country girl and played Alabama like it was going out of style.
When they moved back to Pine Bluff, we couldn’t dance on the wood floors because they bounced and made the record skip.
But we listened.
A lot.
My uncle lived a half mile up the same gravel road my Dad moved to, and it seemed, at times, the woods were filled with competing missions.
Country blaring from a stadium speaker attached under the eaves so Unc could hear it anywhere on his three acres.
And my dad popping a big box speaker into an open window and blasting Ozzy across the yard so he could hear it while he worked outside.
It wasn’t really a choice for me to like it all.
Although my Dad almost had a fit when my first record purchase was Rick Springfield lamenting Jessie’s girl on a .45.
And my mom made sure my first album was Elvis in Hawaii (it had a blue cover is almost all I can remember about it.) before any of the battle of the genre bands started.
My grandmother liked four part harmony gospel, and sang along under her voice, slightly off key, but with a certain pride in making a joyful noise.
My papaw liked older old school country, and a lot of bluegrass.
Every day of my early life was almost like a symphony.
At least of choices.
So that my musical tastes now run quite eclectic.
I’ve tried to explain this to people before, that so much exposure, and exploration as I got older has led me to an appreciation of music that is almost impossible to duplicate.
I mean, it’s got a good beat, Dick and I can dance to it is a truism I’ve carried through out life.
When I say today’s music ain’t got the same soul, I’m not quoting Bob Segar or blaming it on the moon.
I’m just wondering how/where I messed up or what parallel universe I slipped into where Lil Toosie or Tootsie or Lil anyone (except Wayne) is considered a star.
You don’t get it, she said.
You’re just old, I’ve been told.
Another truism. I’ve been old at heart since I turned three.
I didn’t get electronica or EDM or death metal either.
None of them required boogie shoes which you need if you want to dance with me.
Which one of these are you reading this weekend?
1. Battlefield Z Complete Boxset
2. Incursion
4. The Shadowboxer Files – Thriller Boxset
5. Bravo Actual A Big Sci Fi Boxset Collection
6. Witchmas – An Urban Fantasy Adventure Boxset
7. Beachhead Collected
8. The Round Up Western Collection
9. Iron Rations a massive Sci Fi Collection
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Did you know you now can find Chris Lowry books on:
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I just picked this up to add to my list for reading-
Retirement Scheme (Jack Dillon Dublin Tales Book 16)
The Girl From Paradise Hill: The McClintock-Carter Crime Thriller Trilogy: Book One
11,000 readers can’t be wrong
Rise of the Dragons (Kings and Sorcerers--Book 1)
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