It was 12:48 a.m. on Tuesday. Thinking I would catch the rest of Conan O'Brien's show, I turned my television to NBC. Much to my dismay, I realized Leno had gone on late, and I would have to sit through the live performance segment of his musical guest before I could get to Conan. Even more to my dismay, I realized the musical guest that I was going to have to endure was a country band singing a country song.
It didn't take long to recognize this fact. Outside the dead giveaway of novelty cowboy hats, a country band is quickly and easily identified through a number of reference points:
Flannel shirts (sleeves optional), which are usually tucked into their unsettlingly
Tight jeans in order to show off their
Belt buckles that are large enough to intercept digital-quality television signals from outer space. And, of course, the
Unnecessary number of people in the aforementioned outfits wielding stringed instruments -- a bare minimum of three electric guitars, two acoustic guitars, one steel guitar, a banjo and, of course, a fiddle -- that can't be distinguished one from the next due to the cacophony of crappiness they are all working together to create.
When I see a country band performing on television, a natural reflex in my brain acts in a heroic effort to protect my ears and eyes by causing my hand to change the channel to something more engaging -- you know, like ducks humping on Animal Planet.
Thank God I've developed this instinct, too. I would hate to have to resort to the considerably lengthier and more complicated alternative of filling out an application for a gun license, waiting the three or four days to get it approved and blowing my brains out.
So, there I was. Finger on the button, trying to remember which numbers to punch in for Animal Planet, when there he was: Cowboy Troy. There aren't words sufficient to accurately describe the state of wonder and confusion I felt when I saw him, but I believe the first thought I had after it was over came in the form of the following string of words: "Did I have chicken wings for dinner or a giant bucket of LSD?"
Cowboy Troy is the pioneer of the latest installment of pooh to the already-steaming heap that is country music. He calls it "hick hop." Troy is country music's first black rising star in nearly forty years ... first ever, if you don't count Charley Pride -- which I don't because you've probably never heard of him either.
Throughout the whole of Cowboy Troy's performance, I didn't blink once. He stood about 6-feet-4-inches and 240 pounds, in cowboy boots that had clearly been made out of more than one cow. Yes, he was wearing cowboy boots -- and a hat, tight jeans, tucked in flannel shirt and a belt buckle that looked to be ripped off of one of the wheels of Shaq's H2.
Even more disconcerting than his outfit was the way he was dancing, which I can only describe as what Jed Clampett might look like if he were being electrocuted at a hoedown.
Even more disturbing than the dancing was the way he was rapping, if that's what you want to call it.
I guess what it all boils down to is this: One of the many, many reasons that country music sucks so badly is because it is the only style of music in America today that was actually started by white people. Hundreds of years ago, a group of hillbillies in the Appalachians invented the musical form as a means to scare off wild animals.
So, although I'm for anyone from any minority achieving recognition within the genre, I have to question the sanity of Cowboy Troy for choosing this style of music in the first place. At any rate, it does make for good television.
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