For those country fans who believed 2014 might usher in a new wave of substance, one that would break the bitter grip that idiotic bro-country has on country radio, this has been a pretty disappointing year. Sure, there have been glimmers of hope – Tim McGraw’s endearingly retro album, Sturgill Simpson’s widespread critical acclaim, Maddie & Tae’s breaking of the glass ceiling with Girl in a Country Song – but, for the most part, mainstream country radio has kept wallowing in the muddy river banks it has gotten used to, content to play songs about driving trucks and getting drunk.
The genre’s biggest stars are the most common purveyors of such songs, and this year they put out some of the worst albums in recent memory. Discs like Florida Georgia Line’s Anything Goes and Chase Rice’s Ignite the Night are cliche-laden derivations of popular party tropes that feel lifeless and depressing despite their many references to Bacardi. Still, a good thought can come from anywhere, and it would be both arrogant and remiss to not consider these genre leaders’ attempts to craft more serious fare. Even the year’s most egregiously shallow and obnoxious albums have at least some degree of worthwhile music, and considering the fact that the internet has communicated its anti-bro-country vitriol effectively over the past two years, perhaps it would now be prudent to laud country’s least interesting men for their most interesting songs – if only to prepare them for the inevitable end of this red Solo cup era.
In that vein, here are the standout tracks of 2014’s most lacklustre releases:
Jason Aldean – Two Night Town (from Old Boots New Dirt)
At the end of an album all about rolling in the sheets with a Sweet Little Somethin’, Aldean delivers Two Night Town with a pang of regret. The star has been on the offensive ever since his affair with Brittany Kerr hit the tabloids in 2012, but searching lyrics like, “Am I ever gonna turn my life around?/I just spent three nights in a two-night town,” prove surprisingly disarming and sympathetic.
Chase Rice – Jack Daniels and Jesus (from Ignite the Night)
The Ready Set Roll singer proudly waves his chauvinist flag on his debut album, encouraging one woman to “get [her] little fine ass on the seat” and “shimmy up inside” his truck. The entire record follows a similarly obnoxious tack, but this vulnerable finale track, about struggling with alcohol and questioning faith in Christianity, exists on a totally different level than the rest of the album. Evocative lines like, “I ain’t called my mamma in a month of Sundays/ She’d smell the whiskey through that phone,” outshine the cheap catchphrases that mar the rest of Rice’s debut.
Cole Swindell – A Dozen Roses and a Six Pack (from Cole Swindell)
Clever wordplay and a dose of self-loathing make this the highlight of Swindell’s otherwise desperate and sanctimonious debut album. Instead of telling off his ex-girlfriend in a drunken rage, as he does on current single Ain’t Worth The Whiskey, Swindell just hopes she walks back through the door. “I got a dozen roses if she comes back home/ And a six pack if she don’t,” he sings.
Rascal Flatts – I Have Never Been To Memphis (from Rewind)
The only thing sadder than a bunch of bros positioning their wallet chains just right for a night at the bar is an ageing pop-country troupe striving for relevance by auto-tuning their vocals and sneering their way through faux-edgy, decisively unsexy tracks like Payback. Fortunately, the trio had room for this sentimental ballad on Rewind, and while it’s not exactly all that interesting, it contains the least inert songwriting and substantially less posturing than its companions.
Jerrod Niemann – I Can’t Give in Anymore (from High Noon)
Few albums have reached lower than Niemann’s most recent effort, which includes such classics as Donkey, a song that’s actually about riding a donkey – at least until the beast is rechristened an “ass”, and then it becomes about something else altogether. Neimann, like all of these stars, is capable of so much more than embarrassing kitsch, as he demonstrates on the appealing I Can’t Give in Anymore, about a lonely guy wishing his significant other would commit. “Waitin’ for you to make up your mind,” he groans. “You’re makin’ up mine.”
Florida Georgia Line – Dirt (from Anything Goes)
Anything Goes earned the dubious distinction of being named the “worst album ever released in the history of country music” by influential blog Saving Country Music, though it launched with a genuinely thoughtful song (written by Rodney Clawson and Chris Tompkins) about the rich memories that linger at your home. But Dirt was a true outlier, and it only made the rest of the album land with even more of a thud.
