Hank Williams III's new CD The Rebel Within came out the other week (honestly, I never know when things are actually for sale, as I don't for buy nothing anymore, because I have children to support; but I've been teaching them the need to support their favorite artists who are not attached directly to major corporations that will just steal all the profits anyways, because I believe in a music industry, just not one that's so goddamned sketchy; the point is, my children will be entering that age of discretionary income wasted like mad on music, so fuck you music industry, because I doubt my 11-year-old would want to even buy half the crap she wants to buy if I hadn't have exposed her to it from stolen internet songs, which works like radio used to work, just you can't horned cocksuckers can't manipulate it so easy), and though it was a great CD, better than his last one (I can't even remember the name of it), it's still a step below Straight to Hell, which is just such a goddamned great double CD, it sets a high bar to live up to. I know that Tricephus would rather do the metal stuff, and it's almost a country song in itself his whole life. Bastard son of an Populist outlaw country musician who was the neglected son himself of one of country music's most classic talented tragedies, dying in the back seat of a Cadillac. The young bastard grandchild wants to do the metal music that his heart loves, yet is beyond his ability to stop it, about a thousand times more talented at the country bullshit, because in that realm, he does something that nobody else does. In metal, it's the same ol' same ol' when he goes at it, nothing terrible but nothing special. So he gets forced into being what he doesn't really feel like being, by fans, by sketchy industry types, and by the modern necessity of seeing a goddamned paycheck go into the bank every now and then. Good country music is basically always about being trapped, and you either sing about how you are a simple and god-guided enough person to find peace and happiness within that trapped life, or you get fucked up to deal with that trapped life. Usually, the best country music combines the two, a Saturday night/Sunday morning dichotomy turned into toe-tapping jingles that help all the other sad sacks of shit staggering along the surface of the earth deal with their own life's trappings.
Oddly enough, as the new Hank Williams III came through the internet a few months ago and hit my gaypod's rotation, I found myself going back to the Lovesick, Broke, & Driftin' CD by Hank Williams III a lot more. I know he hates that album, due to the record company bullshit with Curb Records, but it's a great ass album, all the way through, with no down parts whatsoever, which you can't really say for The Rebel Within, which sometimes tried too hard to mix in that metal/punk ethos, to where it sounds forced and corny, like a public access TV show character doing junkyard commercials locally in his urban hipster idea of how a hillbilly would look. Shit, I think I'd enjoy Hank the 3rd just doing evil fucked up metal lyrics all normal wide open country style than forcing the punk bullshit into the mix. It's not like anybody other than him even does wide open country style anymore, making it not that normal. Crappy, sterilized, bullshit that dabbles in doing three hours worth of irresponsible indulgence is marketed as spirited outlaw salt of the earth music by Nashville nowadays. They don't have a fucking clue.
Anyways, "5 Shots of Whiskey" is off of that Lovesick, Broke, & Driftin' CD, and is a good fucking song to sit there and stare at an alcohol glass you are trying your best to keep empty, no matter how often you fill it back up. Trapped music for trapped lives. If that ain't country, then fuck you bitch.
STEAL “5 Shots of Whiskey”
NEXT UP: Feel good funeral dirge that hopefully is played at my actual funeral!
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