The Last Rodeo Tour

As some of you might already know (let's face it, if you live in Texas, you probably DO already know), Brooks and Dunn have announced their retirement. Old news, I know. However, their upcoming performance at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo pours salt in my wounds since I will not--repeat, will NOT--be there. March 20. Reliant Stadium. Please go and send a piece of the bittersweet joy to me via carrier pigeon.

Country music is something I really, really, really miss about Texas. I tell you, I've never listened to so much country music in my life since I moved out of Texas. Sometimes, it's my only salvation. A little Pat Green. A little Willie Nelson. A little George Strait. Just puts me right in a mood. However, the Kentuckian doesn't much have a heart for Alan Jackson's "Dallas." I think it's a little too close to home.

Country music gets no R-E-S-P-E-C-T here on the west coast. I know, there is bad country and there's good country. I'll be the first to tell you that. At times, the puns and double entendres are too much even for me. But classic, outlaw, and Texas country get an automatic "in." And so does George Strait. Because he's George. That's all.

I'm telling you, though, Californians have no love for the steel guitar and the fiddle.* I recently attended a barbeque in honor of March Madness (in which no basketball was watched and the ribs were inedible (we'll discuss BBQ in another post)) and somehow, a country song found its way into the carefully constructed Lil' Wayne play list. You would have thought it was Nickelbach or Creed or some shite like that from the volume of screeching. The host quickly corrected his party foul and replaced said country song with another, more appropriate tune in which I'm sure Alvin and Co. were on backup.

I'm no square. I love a good bass-busting, pants-sagging, ho-bashing track every now and again. I know it's hard out here for a pimp. But I do question the psychological fortitude of a person who cannot muster the slightest appreciation for country's greatest hits. The angst! The loneliness! The longing! What's not to love? Give me Willie and Waylon and the boys any day.

*I recognize that not ALL Californians are country haters. Just the ones I know, of course.

(Photo shamelessly lifted from www.brooks-dunn.com)