I'm running a bit behind this week, because the NFL Conference Championships were on this past weekend, but this one is sure worth the wait, let me tell you.
There are few topics a song can focus on that are more vapid, more insipid, more completely wasting of the listener's time than mindless bragging, or, conversely, pointless belittling. It's very unlikely that the listener is going to identify with your boastful statements, so any hopes of having universal appeal is rather narrow. The very best you can hope for is that the audience believes in your self-aggrandizing enough to idolize you. Which is an incredibly shallow goal to have as a songwriter.
Now, that isn't to say that the occasional ego-centric statement doesn't work on occasion. Many rap artists have turned bragadocious banter into an art form, which works because (in many cases) the claims are a calculated combination of incredible creativity and, often, a healthy dose of humor.
Such is not the case in any Contemporary Popular Country song I have ever heard. The claims always focus around the fact that the other guy is one of three things: Wimpy (which is subject to interpretation), not "country" enough, or doesn't have possession of trucks and/or tractors that match the size of the one doing the bragging. I've yet to ever hear a bragging song in the genre of CPC that doesn't focus on one of those three categories. Which is yet another example of the sheer lack of creativity in the world of Contemporary Popular Country.
This particular example of this uninteresting, uninspired, and unoriginal sub-genre is brought to us by Justin Moore. He is, of course, the talented song-spinner that brought us this classic that I posted about a while ago.
There is really only one thing worth mentioning about this particular song that isn't covered by talking about "country bragging songs" in general (because it is so incredibly unremarkable). I find it decidedly exasperating that in order to be a Real Man in the eyes of CPC songwriters, one has to be able to operate some sort of large motor vehicle, or participate in some sort of animal slaughter. ("He cain't even bait a hook! He cain't even skin a buck!" claims Moore in the unforgettable chorus of this timeless-classic-to-be.) I realize that I'm letting my elitist east coast city-dweller perspective show by saying so, but if I can't share it here, well, where can I?
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