As I’ve noted here ad nauseum, I love country music — just not the kind of commerical country music one hears on commerical radio or sees on big, national network telecasts. To me, that’s suburban music, not country music. Overly orchestrated broadway tunes sung with a twang sound like fingernails on chalkboard to me. That is especially true if the sound system is messed up and the singers are flat, as was the case last night on the CMA awards.
A note to the producers of the CMA telecast: Please, in the future, let those poor people lip synch to pre-recorded music. Sure, country music is supposed to be about authenticity, but not about the authenticity that displays how awful the big country stars sing.
By the way, I ditto everything Mr. Roboto says — at least, from the ten minutes of the show I watched.
Note for those among the readers of this blog who are still starving for country music blogging. On Wednesday evening of this week, I will depart my usual editorial focus (that was a joke, by the way) and actually do some same-night entertainment-oriented Nashville blogging of a launch party for the book My Country Roots my friend Alice Randall has edited. Alice actually can listen past the orchestration and enjoy the lyrics of country music (The book will be available on December 5.) I will be explaining the book in greater detail tomorrow. This, however, is what they call a “tease.”