Why I love county music - and so should you...

Silver Spurs' Ellie Harwood on the merits of an idiotically maligned genre

Since the rise of pop culture in the 1960s musical taste has been used by most people as a way of defining themselves and others. The topic usually comes up soon after meeting someone for the first time, but unless you are a fanatical purist you’d probably need a while to answer the question ‘what kind of music do you like?’. And yet most of us have one genre of music that we love just a little bit more than anything else. Often it’s an attachment from adolescence, a first love forged in the stormy times of confused self-identity and a susceptibility to peer pressure. But my main musical love stems from when I was a little child. My father has a real taste for bluegrass and through this I came to love country music of all kinds.

As a teenager I ignored the derision of my britpop-loving peers when they failed to see the merits of the Stanley Brothers compared to the likes of Shed 7 or Cast. I fell in love with Johnny Cash, revelled in the country tinged edges of bands like Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci, immersed myself in the dark, wondrous world of Palace. But country at the time was suffering from a serious image problem. Most people instantly thought of Garth ‘Bastard’ Brooks flying on his wires, Shania gyrating in her catsuit and Steps blandly japing to ‘5,6,7,8…’. To compound the horror, line dancing had just become the nation’s new favourite keep-fit fad. And yet, years after the line dancers hung up their stetsons and carted their Rednex CDs down the charity shop, country music was still tinged with the stigma created by these novelty idiots. In the years that followed I grew used to people reacting to me with incredulity or, worse, a suspicion I was being ironic when I told them about my obsession.

Believe me, I am not being ironic when I say I really love country music. From the high and lonesome unaccompanied ballads of Roscoe Holcomb to the sweaty raucous stomps of Sun-era Johnny Cash, from the magic of Maybelle Carter’s entirely innovative guitar playing to the frantic instrumentation of Bill Monroe and his Bluegrass Boys, from the unsurpassed beauty of the Louvin Brother’s close harmony singing to the wild individuality of Will Oldham’s voice, I love this music with all my heart.

Partly it is the diversity of the genre that appeals to me. This is the music of an entire continent, a homogenisation of the old songs of the British Isles and the music of Africa, played out on instruments from around the world. The banjo itself originated in West Africa, brought to the USA by slaves and taken up by their white neighbours to accompany songs that once would have been sung without music. Likewise the mandolin’s origins lie in Italy, the autoharp’s in Germany, the steel guitar’s in Hawaii. Despite it’s unfair stereotype as the soundtrack to neoconservative white supremacy and redneck idiocy country music is a fine example of the benefits of multiculturalism and a testament to social integration. Country takes so many forms anyone can find a point in its colourful history to get into it – whether it be bluegrass, southern gospel, unaccompanied ballad singing, country blues, flatpicked guitar, western swing, west coast rock, cajun, zydeco or rockabilly.

When I picked up the guitar and started writing songs as a teenager I found female role models far and few between. The British music scene at the time was dominated by laddish bands with the odd posing frontwoman thrown into the mix. It was Maybelle Carter and her undisputed status as a musical innovator that offered inspiration to me. The exquisite singing of Sara Carter, the feist and power of Patsy Cline and Neko Case, the rock’n’roll sensibilities of Wanda Jackson – these were the attributes I took to my heart. And who can deny Dolly Parton’s status as a songwriter and a businesswoman, her position at the pinnacle of the music industry held firm by the fact she writes her own songs, dresses herself and keeps every penny she makes. In my opinion so-called feminist icons like Madonna aren’t fit to lick her boots.

I also love country because the songs are about things I can relate to. I may not be religious but I sure know how it feels to be hopeless from time to time, to wish for life to cease being so cruel. Everyone knows how it feels to grieve, to be heartbroken, to wake up full of regret having spent all your money on booze and carousing. Cheating, drinking, faith, hope and good old fashioned heartache are the staple subjects for the majority of country songs, and anyone who has lived life even a little will be able to identify with some of those.

At its heart country is a simple music. Although few could fail to be impressed by the virtuosity of Bill Monroe’s mandolin, Chet Atkins’ guitar styles or Bob Wills’ fiddling, on the whole you only need a handful of chords and the ability to really feel what you play to be a country musician. It is folk music in the purest sense. The songs are often so old they belong to the public domain and can be taken up, reshaped and resung to fit the stories the singer wants to tell. Traditional songs were played to relieve the monotony of work, to light up the dark evenings, to bond communities in the face of grinding poverty and uncertain futures. This is music meant, on the whole, to be played with others simply for the pleasure such playing brings. It requires no ego, no record deal, no stylist. It exists just for the joy of itself.

It is country's capacity to transcend the time and place it was first played and resonate with people far removed by time and geography that has ensured its longevity and widespread appeal. That it allows for such a direct and affecting expression of emotion has made it popular with musicians better known for playing other types of music. Both Frank Turner (ex Million Dead) and Matt Davies of Funeral For A Friend have produced contemporary country albums in the last year. Mark Lanegan, chief growler in Screaming Trees, made a beautiful country-pop album with Isobel Campbell that would have done Lee Hazelwood proud. Even big-toothed Bee Gee Barry Gibb is turning to country, having snapped up Johnny Cash's old house to record his next album in.

And slowly, as folk music as a whole is rehabilitated among the cool kids, country is no longer viewed with such suspicion. In America country music continues to diversify and flourish, even if it is branded 'alt-country' or 'americana' by those too ashamed to call it what it really is. Festivals like ATP and Green Man have welcomed country bands into their lineups. Last year Silver Jews and Calexico, two bands plowing distinct furrows in the field of modern country, wowed crowds of thousands in the Brecon Beacons. Hayseed Dixie, a bluegrass band playing excellent covers of heavy metal songs, managed to sell out Cardiff’s enormous Coal Exchange. A large handful of bands from all over Wales are adding a country tinged dimension to their songs, the national propensity for vocal harmonies seemingly well suited to this type of music.

So now I say it loud and I say it proud: I love country music. Why not pick up your guitar, get yourself a banjo, ask your friends round, borrow a songbook from the library, see for yourself the unfettered delights playing this music brings. Even if all you can manage is putting on a good shirt, getting your fill of liquor and going to see any of the really good country influenced bands playing round these parts I can promise you your life will be richer as a result…

© 2007 Ellie Harwood

Ellie Harwood sings and plays guitar and autoharp in Silver Spurs, Cardiff’s premier purveyors of banjo-ringing, pedal steel driven, multivocal country death songs.

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