Thursday, August 15, 2013

She’s Gone Country

I have heard A LOT of country music this week — BIG surprise when you’re hangin’ out with cowboys, ranchers, and rodeo queens at the county fair.

And here’s something I’ve noticed — country songwriters are a bit on the liberal side when it comes to rhyme scheme.

For example, here’s part of the chorus from a little ditty called Where I Come From by Alan Jackson —

Where I come from
It's cornbread and chicken
Where I come from
a lotta front porch sittin'

Has anyone ever told Mr. Jackson that chicken does not actually rhyme with sittin’?

The entire song is jam-packed full of near rhymes like turnpike/midnight, son/from, and biscuit/fixed it. And then… and then… it’s like he gets cotton pickin’ tired of tryin’ so hard, and so he busts it all loose in verse three —

I was chasin' sun on 101
Somewhere around Ventura
I lost a universal joint and I had to use my finger
This tall lady stopped and asked
If I had plans for dinner
Said no thanks ma'am, back home
We like the girls that sing soprano

I am not making this up.

And here’s the rub — Good ol’ Al has received 2 Grammys, 16 CMA Awards, and sold a gazillion records.

Well, where I come from, Mr. Jackson — songs RHYME!

But then I got to thinkin’…

You know, country music isn’t about the rhyme — it’s about the story.

And DADGUM, those hillbilly, hoedown, toe-tappin’ tunes are plum-full of plot.

Here’s a sample of a few you could give a listen to (Yeah, Alan, it’s called rhyme) —

She was an annoying little brat, but we grew up and got hitched.

I shared a beer, and he shared his millions.

I’m not good at anything BUT drinkin’ beer — and, dang it, I’m gonna prove it.

They gave me a girly name, and I never had therapy.

And the list goes on…

and on…

and some of them even manage a right purdy rhyme.

PROMPT: If you’ve ever had a busted heart, leg, or universal joint — you could make MILLIONS as a country songwriter! Get started today by grinnin’ and pickin’ up a copy of Jim Peterik’s Songwriting for Dummies (no offense intended… really).

No comments:

Post a Comment