Country Is the Norm MacDonald of Music
The stand-up comic taught me there’s always a place for earnestness.
By MARC V. CALDERARO
I hated country music for a good part of my life, as I’m sure many American coast-dwellers have. For a long time, it was fashionable to hate on the “simplicity” of country music lyrics and ideas. I couldn’t listen to it without my eyes rolling in the back of my head. How could these people sing with such unintentional hilarity about their silly problems?
I always loved that old joke about what happens when you play a country song backwards — you get your dog, your truck, and your woman back.
Then a moment happened that changed everything, and it came from the most unlikely of people — Mr. Twinkle Cowboy himself, Conway Twitty.
While living in rural Kansas, my girlfriend and I heard the song “That’s My Job” on the radio — a twangy ode to Twitty’s father. We started laughing at the schmaltzy, stereotypical recitation of Twitty’s childhood. But by the song’s end, we were crying together in the car.
To this day, I can’t listen to the song without immediately tearing up.
It took me a while to understand what happened that day, but it changed my relationship with country music — and that all has to do with Norm MacDonald.
Norm MacDonald has long been my favorite comedian. And his style has a strong principle behind it. Norm has said he tries to take the cleverness out of comedy. He hates the double entendre and wink-y, nodd-y “Eh? Eh? Get it?” gags. So he attempts to reduce most of his jokes to their essence.
In interviews, MacDonald has mentioned he wants the set-up and the punchline to be as similar as possible. His preferred example comes from his time hosting Weekend Update on Saturday Night Live (1975- ):
“Lyle Lovett and Julia Roberts were divorced today. The reason: he’s Lyle Lovett and she’s Julia Roberts.”
Another classic MacDonald joke, also from Weekend Update:
“This week it was revealed that in his first interview with police, O.J. Simpson refused a lie detector test. His reason? It detects lies.”
And my personal favorite was always this one:
The richest girl in the world, billionaire Athena Onassis, celebrated her tenth birthday this week. What’s it like to be the richest girl in the world? Well, to give you some idea — at the party, they had two cakes.
Norm MacDonald fully believes that if something is funny, it’s funny. You don’t have to dress it up in creative language to make it or the person delivering it appear smarter and funnier.
There’s always a place for earnestness.
That moment in the car with Conway Twitty revealed something similar about the power of country music.
In “That’s My Job,” Twitty boils down a tough relationship with his father to three things: two memories (being scared of loss as a child and being scared of loss as an adult) and one idea (keeping those we’ve lost from truly dying by honoring them). His message is cogent, uncomplicated, and honest.
Don’t get me wrong. Twitty’s rhyme scheme is cheap and stretched, and his delivery is over-the-top. But it doesn’t matter. His message pithed me to my core, and still does. Perhaps more than any other genre of music, country has the ability to hit that way.
Conversely, I was once at a heavy metal show and the lead singer of a band introduced a song by saying, “This next one’s about alcoholism and chemical dependency, something I know many of us here have had to deal with. It’s called ‘Odious Bliss.’”
I found myself irritated by that display. I wasn’t necessarily mad at the band or the singer, but at the genre that required such language to convey a unifying concept. Odious Bliss?! If that were a country song, it’d be called “I Wish I Hated Alcohol” or something like that. And we all would’ve loved it.
Finally, I think I’ve fallen for country music because of how it fits into our larger culture’s treatment of emotions (or lack thereof).
I was brought up in the Northeast, with a psych nurse for a mother — which means I was taught early on to consider and articulate my emotions. Growing up was, frankly, pretty miserable and came with lots of challenges.
For the most part, country music challenges our denial of feeling(s). Traditionally, in country songs artists discuss all kinds of emotions openly, in a culture not known for fostering such expression. And although I resisted emotional introspection as a child, over time, I’ve come to appreciate that as well.
If Norm MacDonald was a composer or a lyricist, he’d have to write country music. No other popular genre allows for the simple, unironic exhibition of pure emotion.
I could say that day in the car with Conway Twitty made me “give up irony” or something like that. But really, it just showed me that there was another avenue of life to explore that would bring me joy. And dammit, those days are the best days.
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