My Achy Breaky Heart...well not quite

Anyone who hasn't been hiding under a massive rock for the last decade has been able to discern a strange occurrence in the music industry. For some odd reason, everyone (not living in the south or midwest or wherever it is country is most prevalent) hates country music. Now I'll be the first to concede that mainstream cookie-cutter country music is essentially vapid and devoid of substance. Then again, nearly all pop (and I use this term to designate prominence in the mass media and not as a tool to categorize songs sonically) music shares the very same drawbacks. So when I get ragged on for enjoying a fair deal of alt-country, I never quite know how to react. Is it country? Sure I guess. But the soothing down-home twang specific to country artists paired with an indie sensibility constitutes the appeal; the result is strikingly charming, endearing, country-tinged music. These aren't songs about Chevy Trail Blazers or hunting skunks on the bayou. The lyrics are as poignant and thoughtful as in any other respectable genre of music. Besides, you'd be hard-pressed finding better tunes to ride along with the windows down to. So go forth and organize a road trip. Purchase Ryan Adams, Wilco and My Morning Jacket albums. Now get your alt-country on. Tedious top 40-manufactured artists will still be there when you get back. I promise.