You probably know that President Jimmy Carter passed away recently. If you tried to do a little day trading last Thursday and couldn’t, blame Carter. That’s kind of the mantra of my young life. Blame Jimmy Carter.
What you may not know is that, at his funeral, among the eulogies and farewell speeches from grandchildren and American leaders, we were treated to the laborious musical spectacle of Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood singing the worst pop anthem of all time, “Imagine.” It reminded me that Garth is the Jimmy Carter of country music. If country music sucks today, blame Garth.
I will be the first to admit that Garth Brooks got me back into country music in the early ‘90’s. I grew up with my parents playing Kenny Rogers, Waylon Jennings and The Oak Ridge Boys on their 8-track tapes, but by 1983, Top 40 radio had banished them to the dusty bin of used music.
Then, sometime in 1991, my brother started playing, “Friends in Low Places,” over and over again. After that, my pal Shane started inundating me with Randy Travis, Alan Jackson and Keith Whitley during our time at summer camp. That fall, “The Thunder Rolls,” gave way to, “Rodeo,” and soon, I had cassette copies of Garth’s first three albums in my tape case. For my birthday in 1992, I bought albums by Doug Stone and Trisha Yearwood with some birthday money I’d gotten, and the rest is history. Soon after, I had stopped listening to Hits 106 and migrated over to 102.3, KRNY.
Life in 1992 was really an endless loop of playing Garth Brooks’ first three albums. His debut album was a solid country album with a few great high-lights. The two follow-ups, No Fences and Ropin’ the Wind, are rightly considered country masterpieces. With this in mind, all of us waited with baited breath for his fourth album, The Chase, which dropped in September of 1992.
To say that reviews of The Chase were mixed to negative would be an understatement. Shitkickin’ country classics like “Two of a Kind,” and “Papa Loved Mama,” gave way to the opening track, “We Shall be Free.”
“This ain’t comin’ from no prophet
Just an ordinary man.
When I close my eyes, I see
The way this world will be
When we all walk hand in hand.”
Then, up comes the southern gospel choir, in comes the piano and organ combo, and we’re off.
“When we’re free to love
Anyone we choose
When this world’s big enough
For all different views,
When we all can worship
From our own kind of pew,
Then we shall be free.”
Ladies and gentlemen… Boys and girls… Garth Brooks… The John Lennon of country music!
A lot of the fans weren’t having it. My dad summed up the reaction the best. “Too much churchy stuff.” The song created controversy because of its perceived touting of gay rights, so Garth made a video trying to explain it. It landed about as well as a balloon full of pig shit.
The second track on, The Chase, was another Garth Brooks power ballad in the style of, “Shameless,” or “If tomorrow Never Comes.”
“Somewhere other than the night
She needs to hear I love you.
Somewhere other than the night
She needs to know you care.
And she wants to know she’s needed,
She needs to be held tight.
Somewhere other than the night.”
It wasn’t just the cringe-inducing, pandering lyrics. Garth’s formerly humble, modest down home delivery had given way to performative, theatrical vocals that often bordered on overwrought. He were singing as if he were auditioning for a musical reality TV show, which wouldn’t exist in the main stream for about another decade.
In 1993, Garth gave us his fifth offering, “In Pieces,” which amped up the arena rock element that typified his concerts. “Ain’t Going Down Till the Sun Comes Up,” “American Honky Tonk Bar Association,” and “Standing Outside the Fire,” took the place of more introspective and preachy fare. The audience seemed to love it. For me, Garth had jumped the shark. My feelings were only validated when we got “Fresh Horses,” in 1995, and “Sevens,” in 1997. By the time we got to his sad attempt at a crossover pop album under the name, Chris Gaines, all I could do was shake my head in disgust. I don’t even have the heart to talk about “Scarecrow.”
The Chris Gaines album, which was meant to be the teaser for a movie starring Garth Brooks as a pop singer with a sex addiction, really shows Garth’s true colors. He may have started out as a musician, but somewhere along the way, he bought into his own public image and transformed into a blatant marketeer.
It wasn’t just the Chris Gaines project. Anyone remember his compilation album, “The Collection,” that you could only buy at McDonald’s, featuring album tracks from the stuff that everyone had already bought? Anyone remember his, “Double Live,” album, available with six different covers? Anyone remember the TV specials that got more and more lavish and slick with each new installment? Remember how he refused to distribute his albums to any music store that sold used CD’s? Jesus! Anyone remember when he tried to play professional baseball!?
And then, there were the interviews. Garth was ubiquitous in the press throughout the ‘90’s and, if you paid attention to him, you came away with a guy whose public musings were a strange blend of Johnny Cash, Oprah Winfrey and Deepak Chopra. An interviewer might ask him, “Garth, when are we gonna hear your new album?” He might respond with, “Well, if the mountain won’t come to Muhammad, Muhammad must go to the mountain. The music can’t be ready until it’s ready. But we’re shootin’ for September, which is when we usually try to put out a new record.” You get the idea that the album is coming out in September, but if it doesn’t, at least you’ll be watching. Profundity masquerading as bullshit, which is the hallmark of a real salesman.
The best way for a listener to study the trajectory of Garth Brooks is to compare and contrast two of his songs; “The Dance,” and “The Change.” In order to do this, you’ll have to buy a subscription to Amazon Music, as Garth can’t be bothered to offer his catalog on Apple Music, Spotify, Pandora or YouTube.
Sidebar: Garth tried to start his own music service, called GhostTunes. It went over about as well as his first marriage.
“The Dance,” is a country classic that serves as the final track on his 1989 debut album. “The Change,” is the sixth track on “Fresh Horses,” from 1995. Both songs are written by Tony Arata and sung by Garth Brooks. There, the similarities end.
“The Dance,” is a quiet, melancholy song about taking stock of your life in the face of regret. “The Change,” is a purple, preening song about a man’s refusal to be bowed by a world full of pain. Garth’s vocals on “The Dance,” are perfect. They are country music at its best; understated, modest and introspective. “The Change,” is Garth at his worst. His vocals are pompous, pretentious and entirely unconvincing. Those two songs bookend the rise and fall of Garth Brooks in my view.
If it had only been about Garth, my interest in country music would’ve been short-lived. However, in May of 1992, I began playing the three Greatest Hits albums from George Strait on repeat right along with Garth’s first three albums. By the time I graduated high school in 1993, I owned every George Strait album. George just put out his latest album, “Cowboys and Dreamers,” a couple of months ago. He’s definitely older and has lost a step, but he’s still George and I love him.
Meanwhile, I hear that Garth opened a bar in Nashville. He still sells Budweiser there because he feels that everyone should feel welcome at his bar. He was also recently accused of sexual harassment. I don’t know if he’s guilty, but if he is, I wouldn’t be surprised. Garth is the product of the Clinton era, after all. Much of his later music was infused with that metrosexual male sentiment that suggests a deep, empathetic sensitivity, all while concealing a predatory nature just beneath the surface. Take a listen to today’s country music, dominated by overgrown frat boys, and let me know how that worked out.
When the historical record is written, you can’t dispute the fact that Garth Brooks put country music back on the map in the 1990’s. But let’s imagine that there was no Garth. The more soft-spoken artists like Alan Jackson, Clint Black and Vince Gill might not have succeeded in passing the torch, but Reba Mcentire certainly would have. She is also a master marketeer and she has succeeded in transcending the boundaries of country music, all while maintaining her artistic integrity. You also can’t minimize the contributions of folks like Tim McGraw, Faith Hill, Brooks and Dunn and Martina McBride. And, sadly, you also can’t ignore overrated fluffballs like Shania Twain, who just goes to prove that our world will never outgrow the T&A factor. They would have been just as successful with or without the contributions of Garth.
Can we blame Garth for wanting to expand his audience? Nope. Many artists have crossed over successfully. Taylor Swift could conduct a master class in how to shuck her country music roots in favor of pop appeal, including the grand marketing strategy of repackaging her early albums. You also can’t blame Garth for wanting to be an actor. Chris Kristofferson, Dolly Parton, Tim McGraw and Reba have all done it with greater or lesser success. But why the unnecessary shtick of Chris Gaines? I think Garth just gets off on the marketing gimmick.
As for “Imagine,” I find it ironic that he’s now singing a song that touts no religion, after cutting his teeth with lyrics like, “Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers, so remember when you’re talking to the man upstairs.” Maybe he evolved. Maybe he’s an, “enlightened Christian.” Personally, I think he’s just playing to a new audience. That’s what all great salesmen do.
Like him or not, I appreciate the fact that Garth brought Chris LeDoux out of obscurity. “Whatcha Gonna Do With a Cowboy, When He Won’t Saddle Up and Ride Away?”
