Sturgill Simpson. Red Rocks. 07.11.15

“I listen to everything except for country music.” If I had a quarter for every time I’ve heard that, I would have a crapload of quarters. Even my mother, who literally grew up in the rodeo, couldn’t stand it when my dad would tune the dial to the country station. “It’s all the same song,” she would complain, before mocking the chorus to a song she’d never even heard before. Country music wasn’t cool to us kids either. We liked pop music. And then we liked metal and punk and hardcore. And then we liked rap and hip-hop. The louder and more controversial, the better. But then something happened in the early nineties — country music went mainstream. Garth Brooks, Reba McEntire, Clint Black, Travis Tritt…these concrete cowboys and cowgirls became household names. It wasn’t uncommon for songs like “Shameless” to replace the staple synth soundtrack at high school proms. Country music was no longer just for rednecks and hillbillies. Some purists wrote those artists off as watered-down versions of the pioneers that came before, and although they were right in a lot of ways, pop country was a hell’va lot better than what the next century had in store. The CMT artists were not Jennings and Jones, Haggard and Nelson, or Carter and Cash, but the majority of them kept it real. They employed true musicians. They respected the art of songcraft. And they never, ever tried to integrate hip-hop culture into their music or imagery. The artists who rose to prominence a quarter century ago were responsible for opening people’s ears to country music, prompting a resurgence of sorts for the original legends who came before them, but they are also partially to blame for the nauseating bro-country that has scorched the landscape over the past decade.

Those of us who survived the short lived ‘rap metal’ scene of the early nineties (see the Judgement Night soundtrack) didn’t think it could get any worse, but then the digital age spawned the likes of Florida Georgia Line. Bro-country is an abomination. It is a form of music that promotes douchey dudes grabbing their crotches while singing (rapping) stalkerish (bordering on rapey) lyrics about getting girls in short skirts into their trucks to drink massive amounts of brand-name liquor while being transported to unknown locations on dark dirt roads. The songs are usually written by a team of people in Nashville who follow a proven formula that adheres to the lowest common denominator of human nature. When worldwide access to digital music was just an idea bouncing around in Shawn Fanning’s head, the majority of the world had no choice but to consume the crap they were force fed by Top 40 Radio DJs. Now there are literally limitless choices. Almost every song ever written is at everyone’s fingertips, yet it must seem overwhelming to many people. And when they get overwhelmed, they find it easier to let the ‘powers that be’ dictate what comes out of their speakers. Herd mentality (and lots of Jägermeister) is to blame for millions of sheep downloading copies of songs like “Anything Goes”, as well as filling stadiums to see these clowns in cowboy boots embarrass themselves on big stages.

If you’re a fan of bro-country, you’ve probably stopped reading by now, but if you’re still with me, I apologize for comparing you to a farm animal. I didn’t mean to go off on a rant. It’s just that while the bros are pillaging country music’s image for financial gain, there are those who have charted a new course forward. Artists like Jason Isbell, John Moreland, Nikki Lane and Sturgill Simpson are rewriting history. These artists are continuing down the path of the pioneers, as if pop country never existed. They are making it hard for people to add the ‘except country’ disclaimer when discussing their listening habits. It might seem funny that a clean-cut guy, with a well-groomed mustache and Converse sneakers, is being called the potential savior of country music, but when the enemy steals your image it’s easy to let the boots and buckles go in favor of the music. Sturgill Simpson might not look like the next Waylon Jennings, but he sure as hell sounds like it.

I’d like to think Sturgill was the reason Red Rocks seemed over capacity on the first dry show of the season, but I knew The Avett Brothers were responsible for selling almost thirty thousand tickets over a single weekend. That being said, Simpson had his fair share of friends in the crowd on Saturday night. He might have only been the opening act, but that didn’t stop him from playing a full, fifteen song set that included highlights from both his albums, as well as a few cover songs. For someone being touted a savior, there was exactly zero ego to be found on the man as he took his place in the center of the famous stage. Giving a quick nod to the growing crowd, he queued up his band with a single pluck of a guitar string, before kicking things off with two of the most straight-forward country songs from High Top Mountain. Following the ‘tears in my beers’, brokenhearted format my mom despised so much, “Sitting Here Without You” and “Water in a Well” poured the foundation for a solid set of true country music. “There’s a moon over me so bright, it lights up my sorrow for everyone to see.” Sure, those words are just another way of saying what’s been said a million times before, but Sturgill’s remarkably candid delivery left no doubt that the sorrow was very real at one time. And at 37 years old, he can sing “I know sometimes it can seem like my mind belongs to a child that’s grown” as only someone whose 20’s are in the rear-view mirror can.

While the songs from High Top Mountain contain typical stories of lovesick wanderers, lost and down on their luck, Metamodern Sounds in Country Music explores life, love and the human condition through a slightly more colorful lens. So it was appropriate when a giant rainbow stretched itself over the stage when the band broke into “Long White Line”. The ode to truck drivers across the nation led into band introductions before Sturgill spoke his first words to the crowd. It was a rhetorical question (this being an Avett Brothers show and all), but when he asked if it was alright if they played a little bluegrass, the crowd were on their feet dancing along to “Poor Rambler” before an answer could be given. A few songs into the set and Sturgill and his boys had already proven themselves capable of the traditional ballad, the barnburner, and the bluegrass jamboree, but it wasn’t until “Voices” that he let everybody in on the secret. Sturgill might not have the Buddha-like aura of Jamey Johnson. He doesn’t have the soul-crushing voice of Jason Isbell. And he doesn’t have the commanding presence of John Moreland. What Sturgill Simpson has is an extraordinary songwriting ability. Sometimes it’s hard to believe the songs weren’t written before Simpson was even born, but then a closer listen will reveal complex, meaningful, and thought-provoking lyrics — lyrics of the type that have never before been found on a country album.

“How I wish somebody’d make these voices go away
Seems they’re always talking, but they ain’t got much to say
A picture’s worth a 1000 words, but a word ain’t worth a dime
And we all know they’ll go on talking…til the end of time”

Those words could be about the voices in each of our own heads. They could be about those who propagate hate on the 24/7 news networks. They could be about all of us posting everything to social media. I like to think they are about the bro-country artists who literally have nothing to say.

He followed “Voices” with “A Little Light”, the closest thing he has to a gospel song, except that it replaces God with a simple light. Speaking of light, the sun was still shining in the sky as the band was performing. No props, no lighting, no video or costumes or brand placement — just five musicians on a stage, in front of a giant geological backdrop, making music the way it’s supposed to be made. Sturgill didn’t seem in a hurry either. He didn’t seem to have anything to prove. He just played his guitar, sang his songs, and took a step back to jam a little when the feeling took him there.

“Living the Dream” can come across as a sarcastic song at first, but watching him perform it live last night, I found it to have an uplifting message. “I don’t need to change my strings, cause the dirt don’t hurt the way I sing. I don’t have to do a Goddamn thing except sit around and wait to die.” That might sound depressing, but when he goes on to explain further, you realize he’s talking about making the most out of the life you were given.

“That old man upstairs, he wears a crooked smile
Staring down at the chaos he created
Said son if you ain’t having fun just wait a little while
Momma’s gonna wash it all away
And she thinks mercy’s overrated”

When Sturgill thanked the crowd, I figured he was wrapping things up. So when he announced that they had 30 minutes left and planned “to do something with it” I couldn’t have been happier. “Life of Sin” (“She left my heart feeling taunted and my memories all haunted, but it’s her I have to thank for all my songs”), It Ain’t All Flowers (“Been getting to the bottom of the bottom getting to me”), and the country song presented through a toy kaleidoscope (“Marijuana, LSD, psilocybin, and DMT, they all changed the way I see , but love’s the only thing that ever saved my life”) were all highlights of the set, but it was his unlikely cover of When In Rome’s “The Promise” that garnered the most audience participation. The song might scream ‘Jr. High!’ to all us 80’s kids, but finders are keepers and it now belongs to Sturgill Simpson…and he owed it last night.  A cover of The Osbourne Brothers “Listening To The Rain” closed out the set and then the band walked off the stage. Moments later it was like they were never there in the first place. The Avett Brothers came out with all their banjos and cellos and violins and they rocked the crowd as they do every time they come to Red Rocks. But it wasn’t The Avett Brothers occupying my mind as we drove home. It was “Some Days” by Sturgill Simpson.

“Well I’m getting pretty tired of being treated like competition
When the only one that can hold me down is inside my head
What’s a honky gotta do around here to get a little recognition
Start to think I might be worth more to everybody if I was dead

I’m getting pretty tired sitting around and wasting time
I’m tired of taking blame when I ain’t done nothing wrong
I’m tired of other people trying to take what’s mine
And I’m tired of y’all playing dress up and trying to sing them old country songs”

I understand Sturgill probably wrote “Some Days” song during a dark period in his life. 37 years old is a little late to start getting recognition for your talent. It also has to be extremely frustrating to see the industry use their massive marketing machine to prop up no-talent jerk-offs like Florida Georgia Line, while leaving true artists to struggle year after year. But people are taking notice. Guys like Jason Isbell are winning awards and selling out residencies at the Ryman Auditorium. Girls like Kacey Musgraves are disrupting the Nashville scene. Chris Stapleton decided to write some songs for himself…and in the process he managed to put out a better album than any of the superstars he’s written for. And Sturgill Simpson is getting extremely good press himself. He is being called a savior. That’s gotta feel good. And when he makes it to the top, it’s going to feel so much better knowing he did it on his own. He sings “some days you kill it and some days you just choke”, but I think in his case the latter days are gone for good. I’ve seen him twice this year, once at the sold-out Fillmore in San Francisco and once at the sold-out Red Rocks in Morrison, and he definitely killed it each time.

Sturgill Simpson:
Sitting Here Without You
Water in a Well
Long White Line
Poor Rambler
Voices
Medicine Springs
A Little Light
Living the Dream
Life of Sin
Some Days
It Ain’t All Flowers
The Promise
Railroad of Sin
Turtles All the Way Down
Listening To The Rain/The Motivator