Rainy Day Folklore

The incrementally artistic communiqués and missives of a frustrated folklorist

How to choose a song to honor George Jones on the day he died…there are so, so many. Do you go for early, rock-a-billy Jones, or maybe Nashville Sound Jones, a duet with Tammy, or the pain-drenched (aren’t they all?) “He Stopped Loving Her Today” (just try and find a karaoke bar that doesn’t spin that diddy today)? Or maybe “Golden Rings”, “She Thinks I Still Care”, Two Dollar Pistol”, “Grand Tour”, White Lightnin’”…there are just so many. Even his bad songs were good. How could a song not be good with George Jones’ voice on it?

But this song…It isn’t vintage George by any means, and in the hands of any other singer it might not be distinguishable from any of the platitude-laden suburban morality tales on the airwaves today. But when George Jones sings “Choices,” the result is an unflinching staring contest with memory and acceptance, the defiant epitaph of a legend examining a tumultuous life.

I’ve had choices, since the day that I was born

There were voices that told me right from wrong

If I had listened, no I wouldn’t be here today

Living and Dying with the choices I’ve made


I never saw Jones in concert, never bumped into him at the liquor store, never found myself behind him in the check-out line at Wal-Mart. But like most of his fans, I felt a personal connection with him. For more than two decades, a disparate group of people—doctors, mechanics, students, writers, athletes, fire-fighters, executives, and homemakers—have gathered in a circle and played his songs, this song in particular, every Christmas at my family’s house in Kentucky.

A song about living with choices that left a world of pain in your wake; that’s what brings my family together around the warm glow of the yuletide hearth.

My aunt Vi, whom I absolutely adore, is in love with George (seriously, the woman still swoons when she hears his voice, and if any of us try too hard to sound like George, she’ll be the first to remind us we don’t—honest to a fault). My Uncle Donny knows every George song, but “Choices” is his favorite. And though he’s a man of unshakeable faith, he gets a devilish, put-firecrackers-under-the-pulpit gleam in his eye right before he strums that opening D chord. My cousins and I learned to chord a guitar by watching him and following along to George Jones songs. I can’t remember a single time we’ve sat in a picking circle without playing them. “Choices” is always in the mix somewhere. And if the song selection strays to far afield for my aunt’s traditional tastes, “Choices” is the come to Jesus song that settles her down and brings her back to the fold.

And that’s what I hear when George Jones sings “Choices”; a settling down, the reckoning after a turbulent life, honest and unapologetic. This is who I was. This is how I lived. It wasn’t always pretty, but it was the truth. Deal with it.

And so we must. Rest in Peace George. We’ll see you this Christmas.

I will never stop wondering about the power of folklore, the mystery of the incredible stability-in-the-midst-of-changing of those bits and pieces of communication and behavior and how they signal in such a delicate way the cultural condition, and how their accurate analysis can be a key to the mystery of cultural differences. Folklore —I believe - one’s common stock of tales, proverbs, superstitions, symbols, rhymes, songs, dances, riddles, blessings, curses, rituals, ceremonials, beliefs, legends, place names, and all the rest of it - may very well turn out to be essential to the survival of peoples across time and space.

Bess Lomax Hawes

Five minute art project.

Five minute art project.

You’ll find this at Nashville’s Third Man Records come Saturday (April 20th, Record Store Day).

You have to admit…this is pretty goddamn glorious.

In Defense of Brad Paisley

The backlash against the song “Accidental Racist”, and against Paisley and LL Cool J, has been intense. The Internet is abuzz with scathing reviews of this song and the intent behind the song. I agree with much of the criticism. The history presented lyrically in the song is, to be blunt, revisionist drivel (that unfortunately happens to be believed by approximately 70% of white southerners). The musicality is…questionable at best. And the two voices represented in the song are essentially caricatures, stereotypes of two cultural Others. But even though I’m not a big fan of the song, the criticism has largely ignored three critical points:

1. The characters in this song are just that…characters. They’re telling a story based on character point of view, not an analytical treatise on history.

2. To my knowledge, the last mainstream country artist with mass popularity to release anything that questioned race relations, or for that matter even addressed a controversial topic with a modicum of earnestness, was Johnny Cash with his release of “Man in Black”…in 1971! .

3. The audience for this song is a mainstream country audience.. Many among this audience own more than one item of clothing emblazoned with a Confederate flag. Statistically, this is largely the same demographic that has grown more racist since President Obama’s election in 2008.

So putting artistry and taste aside, let’s look at this song in the context of modern country music and its primary audience. Because, as sad as it is to say…

“Accidental Racist” is the most progressive song you’re likely to hear on mainstream country radio.

Many critics are equating the views of the character of the song’s southern white with the views of the singer. “Accidental Racist” isn’t autobiographical (though it was inspired, at least in part, by a specific event…more on that later). The “southern white” and the “black yankee” are characters, however stereotypical, looking at an issue from two different perspectives. The history presented in the song-if you can call a couplet about Reconstruction “history”—is revisionist rather than strict historical analysis, but it is historical perspective as viewed through the lens of the character of the white southerner with a flag on his t-shirt, a perspective that, however erroneous, is widely held by the song’s primary audience. Is it past time for southern apologists to discard such opinions? Of course it is. Have they? No.

Think about the context of Paisley’s position in mainstream country. If he went on stage and dropped a 200 foot Confederate flag from the rafters, his audience would only applaud louder, buy more records, and order up a round of Jack Daniels for the band. This is the same audience that stopped buying-and started burning-Dixie Chicks records after singer Natalie Maines said she was “ashamed George W. Bush was from Texas.”  The audience for country music as a whole isn’t exactly socially or politically progressive. Neither, for that matter, is the industry. Since the birth of the Opry, country music has by no means been a model of cultural diversity, at least historically speaking. DeFord Bailey, Charlie Pride, Darius Rucker…name another genre of popular music where you can count on one hand the number of black super stars.

The audience, by and large, doesn’t read The Atlantic Monthly, or Slate, Salon, Huffington Post, the New York Times, or any other news source with a perceived or actual liberal bent. The message this audience hears, and has heard for the last 60 years, is “the flag is heritage not hate.” Within the last year, another country star, Trace Atkins, was criticized for wearing an ear monitor with a Confederate flag on it. His defense? Basically, great great granddaddy fought for the south and this flag represents my heritage. His record sales didn’t decrease. Not in the least.

Is this song defending that position? The flag is heritage, not hate? I don’t think it is. The song delivers this perspective, to be sure, but also asks listeners to think about other perspectives, the very acknowledgement of which is bold by modern standards in country music where white rural America is the only real America. At a time when white southerners are further entrenching themselves into regressive policies and opinions, this is the only song in recent memory that actually question such actions, however inartfully, and ask listeners to be reflective.

So, if nothing else, this song is asking the audience to think about race relations from multiple perspectives. Unless I’m missing something, mainstream country music has gone about four decades without anything remotely similar. The song might persuade John Q. Redneck, a card-carrying member of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, to stop for a second and think about what this flag he so cherishes has come to represent for someone else and why they might be offended by it. The song might persuade him to question his openness to other points of view in general, even if for a moment. To be honest, I doubt it will, but at the very least the song, even through the ridiculous stereotypes, portrays an open and civil discourse between two people with conflicting points of view that I doubt you’ll find in the comments feed of any given southern newspaper. You sure won’t find it on country radio.

Paisley wrote this song after someone called him a racist on Twitter. He was called out for wearing a t-shirt from the band Alabama that had a rebel flag within the band’s logo. But prior to this incident, there’s not a lot of damning evidence against him. In fact, quite the contrary. Paisley performed for President Obama, was openly moved by his election, and wrote a song called “Welcome to the Future” in honor of him (btw, that song didn’t exactly cling to the country charts). A few weeks ago, Paisley released a song called “Southern Comfort Zone” all about how southerners need to travel, step away from the familiar, and experience the world as other people see it. Not exactly Tea Party talk.

Now comes “Accidental Racist.” Provocative? You bet. Ham-handed? Yeah, I’m afraid it is (isn’t most pop country?). But I think the intent is pure. He’s asking people to question their worldview. Clearly, he’s been thinking about his own as evidenced by the direction of his recent work on the whole. And he’s certainly thinking about the world differently than his contemporaries, who too often merely try to out-country each other. Not only is that dull, it doesn’t exactly move the needle of progress.

Say what you will about the song, interpret it as you will, but if I had to place a bet on what would be most likely to change a person’s point of view regarding their problematic attachment to the rebel flag, this song or an op-ed in the New York Times…my money’s on this song. Regardless, Brad Paisley is at least trying to reach the people who hold such problematic points of view in a way that might actually persuade them to listen.

Isolated Communities in the Rural South

[Stands upon soap box]

For years, I’ve been reading about communities in the rural south that were culturally isolated or cut off from the modern world, as if there were a great wall or ocean separating the rural countryside from the “town” nearby. And people, particularly people in search of government funding, still abuse this false notion of rural isolation from culture and/or the modern world.

Technologically speaking, such arguments regarding technology or broadband might’ve flown even a few years ago, but even that’s rarely the case any longer. I’ve driven into some of the deepest, darkest hollows in rural Tennessee and Kentucky. It is a true rarity when I don’t find a 3g or 4g signal anymore.

But with regard to all other aspects of culture and modernity, to say the rural south is/was isolated is simply false. If you’re speaking about transportation, you were more isolated living in the East Village of Manhattan in the 19th Century than you were living in rural Appalachia. You needed a boat or train to get out of Manhattan. Only way you couldn’t get out of Appalachia is if you didn’t have legs.

Yes, but it wasn’t it difficult to get goods or services in the rural south, services that were readily available in the cities? Evidently the Sears Roebuck Company didn’t think so. They were shipping catalogs to every hamlet and hollow across the country, and they were doing it a century ago! The things were so ubiquitous in the American South, they were commonly used as toilet paper (which was readily available, but expensive. The catalog came free in the mail and it had LOTS of pages).

I’m sick to death of rural southerners (and as a rural southerner myself, I can be sick of my own kind) always crying about how isolated they are, when what they mean to say is “we’re close-minded to the modern world and dread change, but we’re leaning on our backwoods heritage for an excuse to stay as obstinate and ignorant as we’ve never always been.”

The rural south isn’t isolated. It never really was. And the stereotypes about the south are as internally reinforced as they are externally imposed.

[Steps off soapbox. Harrumphs.]

Unexpected memory unlocked by reading a book about Waylon Jennings:

1997. I’m locked inside a vocal studio at a university in Vienna, Austria. An Austrian woman with limited English is playing piano, while I sing a duet of this song with a tone deaf, though jovial, Viennese teacher. Later, the teacher and I will get hammered and talk about heavy metal, though neither of us will ever set foot in that wing of the building again.

But at the moment, I was stone cold sober and struggling to sing Georgi Girl. Never heard the song before, and if my life depended on it I couldn’t tell you how this situation came about. But in retrospect, it was one of those moments where you step outside your body; look at the situation before you with a steely, objective glare; and tell yourself it is time to make some different choices.

This little guy led to what became the USDA. Because nobody likes rat poop in their steaks.

This little guy led to what became the USDA. Because nobody likes rat poop in their steaks.

Scale model of the Chrysler Expo during the ‘33 World’s Fair. I wish we still had world’s fairs.

Scale model of the Chrysler Expo during the ‘33 World’s Fair. I wish we still had world’s fairs.

Chicago neath the Yankee Hotel Foxtrot condos.

Chicago neath the Yankee Hotel Foxtrot condos.