The Year NPR, my Husband and Joe Nichols Came Together to Change my Life

I could explain my recent obsession with country music in two words, midlife crisis, but I'd rather tell a bit of a story.

I have never been a fan of any specific music genre. Fan is the operative word here, originating from the word, fanatic. I've subsisted for years on the drone of NPR and small doses of Israeli music, classic and Southern rock, heavy metal, and country. Occasionally I would dip into the bucket of my teenage angst that is a gruesome brew of folk, new wave, punk, acid rock, and a whole lot of  Red Hot Chili Peppers. So what happened?

Three things happened within a few months that turned me from casual music listener to country music fan.

1. My husband bought me an ipod for my birthday, and when I filled it with podcasts of This American Life and my old tired music collection, it became apparent that if I didn't start listening to brand new music, my demise was going to be premature death by boredom.

2. NPR had a fund drive that got on my nerves to such a degree that I tuned into country radio and never looked back. I still have an ear open for good things happening in other genres, and listen to classic rock, but as I've noticed, classic rock just means old popular music, much of which I didn't like when it first came out. Given a choice, I'll almost always choose to listen to a new country song.

3. A review in the News and Observer of Joe Nichols' album Old Things New got my attention, and when I listened to it, I fell head over heals in love, not with him, with the music.  I can't imagine a life worth living that does not include an intra-ear drip of similar sounds. Today is, coincidentally, the one year anniversary of that review.

I met Joe Nichols briefly in May. He did a show in a bar in my hometown.  I brought the only other Joe Nichols admirer I know, my daughter's 1st grade teacher, along for the almost two hour drive and overnight at my Mom's. After an excellent show we stood in the slow moving meet and greet line to say hello and get an autograph. By the time we got to the front I forgot to tell him what I wanted to say, that I love his voice. It would have been nice to have remembered to say that his album changed my life; that this album was the one that made me realize how much I truly enjoy country music. He comes across as a down to earth guy, so he may have appreciated the compliment.

That's the last meet and greet line I'm ever standing in. Unless I run into him on the street or this blog finds its wings, takes off and scores me a press pass one day, this post will have to suffice as my expression of gratitude to Joe Nichols (and NPR).  My husband has been thanked many times for the ipod.

Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys.

The blogging stars aligned a few days ago. I was working in my studio (I have a small art related business) listening to Merle Haggard Radio on Pandora, and Willie's and Waylon's "Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys" comes on. That's a great song. I'm thinking that there must be a way to include that song in my blog, when I notice an email from an old friend.

"I grew up much the same as you- growing up on classical music in a somewhat rural environment. Country music speaks to whatever Hoosier soul I have and reminds me of the lay of land that I come from, even if it is not my family's culture at all. In fact, one of the only ways I have been able to rebel was with country music. My parents were most accepting and liberal about everything- except for their disdain of country music. They simply hate it. Of course, they are completely ignorant of it in many ways. As you pointed out, it's not all about Jesus, mostly about love and family."

Growing up, my Dad had little tolerance for any music that wasn't classical. My Mom, on the other hand has always been more open minded. She would occasionally suffer through listening to a bit of whatever I liked. She was very generous and took my friends and I to see the Police's Synchronicity tour, even though she kept her hands over her ears for the entire concert. She once told me that when she was young she liked Elvis, although I've never heard her voluntarily listen to anything but classical music.

I was curious what she thinks of this blog and my current obsession with country music.  I called her to ask and was actually surprised by her answers.

KC (Kibitzing Country): Hey Mom. So, what do you think of my blog?
Mom: I enjoyed reading it. It has humor. I'm glad you're humor is coming out.

I read her the email from my friend.

KC: So does it bother you that I don't like classical music?
Mom: No, it doesn't bother me. I wish you did. I think it's more sophisticated than other music. We certainly exposed you to it, but it doesn't bother me. If you liked hard rock or rap or mean music, that would bother me. But country music is nice. It expresses universal emotions.
KC: I always assumed that you think it's low class.
Mom: No. I don't think it's low class. When I am on a long car trip, and I can't find a radio station with classical music or NPR, I listen to country.

Wow! Fascinating! I have never given any though to what my Mother listens to when she she's out of range of a classical music station or NPR. Now when I can't find a friend to accompany me to a concert I will bring my Mom and a set of earplugs so she doesn't need to hold her hands over her ears.

For the rest of you Mamas, how do you protect your children from growing up to to be country fans? All I can suggest is not to raise them in the country, or anywhere that resembles the country. Unfortunately, rigorous exposure to classical music does not appear to be an affective vaccine.

What's a nice Jewish girl like you doing listening to Country Music?

What's a nice Jewish girl like me doing listening to country music, they ask. If I was into Jazz, nobody would say a word. I've never been to New Orleans. My parents didn't listen to Jazz. But if I liked Jazz, that would be cool. How about hip hop or soul? I went to a Mary J. Blige concert with a friend who had an extra ticket. I didn't really know her music but I enjoyed it. Nobody thought it was odd that I was going to a Mary J. Blige concert.  I was one of a handful of Caucasians in the audience of 10,000, but nobody told me that they were surprised I was going because I'm white. Nobody laughed.

I'm an educated Jewish woman who really likes country music. Don't laugh because it's rude.

The seed for my love affair with country music was planted 1979 when a babysitter turned on the radio and changed the station.  The song "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" was on.  I remember this moment clearly because my parents only listened to classical music and the news, so it was very surprising. "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" was the most wonderful song I had ever heard. It told a story. It had drama. It was noisy. I could feel the hellish fiddle in my hair follicles; the virtuous fiddle down to the bottom of my stamping feet.

From that moment on I've loved music with a bit of twang.  I grew up in the South and, being Jewish, have felt like a bit of an outsider, but country music and Southern rock have always sounded like home to me.  My family lived on the outskirts of a small Southern city and I had a rather pastoral childhood, running around in the fields and woods, catching tadpoles and crawdads. Dad is a conservative doctor (retired) who listened to classical music, drove a truck and kept guns. As a teenager I once had to give our Rabbi a ride somewhere in my Dad's truck and he told me that my Dad is an enigma. Perhaps I'm following suit. I'm an upper-middle class Jewish housewife who watches CMT and GAC while folding laundry.  I ditch the husband and kid to spend many a summer evening on the lawn of an amphitheater, drinking beer and dancing to the likes of Brooks & Dunn and Toby Keith.

One day I wanted to communicate with some fellow country music loving tribe members and did a google search for "Jewish country music fans". Virtual silence. So I decided to start a blog. If you're out there, holler and we'll kibitz.