I am a Decemberists fanboy. I was eager to get my hands on the King is Dead. I gladly paid the extra money to get the limited edition with the vinyl/CD/DVD package. I then gladly paid the money to go see them live. And when I had to write a review of it, I praised it for what it was. But that was the problem, what it was: a tribute to American music that shied away from what made the Decemberists so special...
Let it be noted... I hate country music. Well, I hate the country music I've heard and afterwords classified as country music. I've spent long work days with someone who listens to it and ergo heard it for about 4 or 5 hours. Now, this is the country music he listened to and it heavily juxtaposed my interests...
I know that the rap I hate is contrasted by the rap I find acceptable to listen to and, therefore, I know there is probably some less iconic or archetypal country music that I can probably enjoy. The closest I've come was with the Decemberists, but with my obsessive admiration towards them, I believe I loved the musicians as much, if not more, than the actual music. Just as I praised the King is Dead then, I would do it again; it is not uncommon for me to turn on musicians or albums as their appeal fades, yet I have never had that problem with the Decemberists. I will gladly play the Crane Wife or Picaresque on any given day and still have that immediate appreciation I had followed by the conceptual bewilderment unique only to this band. For that reason alone, I could never turn on them...
But that doesn't make the King is Dead anything it's not...
What is it? It's an intricate and eloquent ballad to nature and seasons. It's a deeply developed album that sounds of its setting. But it's also a bit of a far cry from the Hazards of Love that preceded it. I found myself infatuated with sordid undertones of January Hymn and June Hymn; songs like Rise to Me and Dear Avery were also stand out tunes on an album that, rather than draw from the British folk revival, seeped with Americana flavor and flare. It did have that country feel and vibe to it, but upon further study, it had some things all country I've heard lack...
Perhaps it's only what I've heard, but country lacks, to be quite blunt, an intelligence to it. I should word that differently... Country is simple. I shouldn't mix up simplicity with stupidity. The problem is, it's so simple and rudimentary that it could never appeal to me. The personas prefer to perform songs of fishing and beer and when it does get somewhat sentimental or heartfelt, folkish metaphors and bland, uninspired wording bludgeon me over the head. It appeals to a certain crowd, but I can't help but think the Decemberists proved that genre could offer so much more...
(On a side note, I won't even attempt to explain my disdain towards the voices, it would take too much time and space)
When I listen to bad (a subjective term) music, I find myself thinking that more could have been accomplished, that it simply lacks some innately desired quality and faltered in that sense. When I've listened to country, that feeling is thick and undeniable. There is certainly some musical talent in country, but the generic sound and lyrics simply make it a mass of ten gallon hats and leather with little to distinguish them. The identity of country is not in the musicians, but the music itself, and it is simply one I choose to never become accustomed with.
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