Take me home, country bros…
[Video]
[3.89]
Nortey Dowuona: HEY THOMAS! (RUNNING HARD, NORTEY CLIMBS ON THE TRAIN, A SCROLL CLUTCHED IN HIS HAND, JUMPS ON THE CABOOSE.) YOU FORGOT ABOUT ME. So as the sickly sweet guitar swallowed by slide guitar, squashed bass, flatly drawn and papier-mâché drums, sweeping violins and Thomas’s slick voice, all proper and Southern and mannered, sitting brightly in the front of the mix slide down your throat, you’re meant to see this as some sweet reconciliation with the roots that birthed him. THOMAS, you were trying to leave, and since it didn’t work out, you want to come CRAWLING BACK!??! Fine, go sit there next to Jon Pardi and if Sam Hunt crashes and burns, we’ll call u.
[4]
Thomas Inskeep: This spate of “I’m country again”/”it’s great to be country again” songs peppering country radio right now — because you can apparently, only “be country” by living in the South/driving a truck/etc. — is such unbelievably pandering bullshit, and I loathe everything about the trend. You wanna know why I don’t listen to country radio (along with their almost male-exclusive playlists)? Here’s Exhibit A. Musically, this isn’t bad at all, but I cannot and frankly, will not get past the song’s lyrical conceit.
[0]
Ian Mathers: A revolting mishmash of cultural anxiety, dispatches from the zone where shibboleths and dog whistles meet, and complete nonsense (paying more attention to your spouse than your phone isn’t “country,” you dipshit). Would be less provoking if I didn’t grow up around people who hear this kind of song and immediately rush to make — or more likely share — Facebook posts about “real music” being back again.
[1]
Michael Hong: I hate when artists do this. When they completely reject everything they were because they were underperforming. “Look at the sepia tones! I’m holding an acoustic guitar! Look how scruffy I got!” It’s still the same thing Rhett’s always been. Corny. Like really corny. Country with a bit of pop. Except it’s just not fun.
[3]
Alfred Soto: Eric Church, I hope the namecheck swells your heart. Wearing its poignancy as easily as old socks, “Country Again” is decent corn.
[6]
Al Varela: The thing I respect most about this song is that it celebrates small-town lifestyles and growing up, but doesn’t dismiss its previous experiences with the big city. It’s no secret that Thomas Rhett has at least some interest in being a pop star, but it’s nice to see him settle down and take advantage of some beautiful steel guitar and warm textures as he sings about coming back to his hometown and falling back in love with his culture. But it’s not done to disparage the glitz and glam of California; rather, it’s simply finding peace in the little moments of life that made you the person you are now. For once, a mainstream country song actually pays tribute and feels like the small town instead of using it as a gimmick.
[8]
Samson Savill de Jong: That a song all about reconnecting with your country roots should sound so generic (as in, of the genre) should probably come as no surprise. Thomas Rhett’s lyrics are really good in my opinion, as they display feelings he’s going through. He avoids putting the glitzy L.A. lifestyle on blast, which would’ve been an easy trick to pull, instead he is contemplative, and reflects more that he’s a little older and wiser and his desires are more towards hanging out and drinking beers with his bros than running the rat race, and I can respect that. So it’s well written, but lord is “Country Again” dull to listen to. The song matches the mood of the lyrics, but there’s so little energy and nothing to cling on to, it’s putting me to sleep and slipping out of mind every time I listen to it.
[5]
Dede Akolo: Honestly, I’m not well versed in the pop-country trends of the moment. All I have are assumptions of an entire genre being comprised of nostalgia-soaked, pint carrying, guitar-slinging white people who inconspicuously want to make something “great again” (America or otherwise). My favourite country or folk tunes enrich themselves with yearning. There’s nothing like a guitar that gently weeps. This song, serviceable. I use that word so much because the ingredients present themselves in all the ways that make a song delicious but… it doesn’t feel filling. It doesn’t satisfy any hunger within me. Not that every song needs to have a “greater meaning”, but songs, especially pop songs, should at the very least strive to sound different from each other. I feel like besides being an outsider to the genre’s core audience, there is this stagnancy I feel in this song. The voice grovels when it does, the strings flourish when the need to, but nothing ever provokes. No thought, line, or melodic phrase gives me pause. So I let the song float away like a tumbleweed into the sunset.
[3]
Edward Okulicz: “Southern Comfort Zone,” only really, really tired.
[5]