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Started By
Message
re: No genre of music understands it's audience better than country.
Posted on 2/13/22 at 1:55 pm to UndercoverBryologist
Posted on 2/13/22 at 1:55 pm to UndercoverBryologist
quote:
1. Rap lyricists are routinely among the best and most virtuosic lyricists in contemporary music.
Nah.
1
Posted on 2/13/22 at 1:57 pm to Horsemeat
quote:
Which is more generic?
Suburban girl with stupid quote tattoos
-vs-
Wannabe hipster girl with a plethora of stupid "art" tattoos all over arms/chest/legs, nose ring, and pink/purple/blue hair?
Nobody's writing songs though about the hipster chick.
But as funny as that song about the bible verse tattoo is. It doesn't have shite on that song about the wooden crosses on the highway. That's comedy frickin' gold right there.
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:01 pm to Pandy Fackler
quote:
What's your name, what's your sign, what's your birthday?
What's your wrist tattoo bible verse say?
Tell me this, do you kiss on the first date?
Don't hold anything back (don't hold anything back)
This one
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:01 pm to Pandy Fackler
I miss the old western story songs. Like “el paso”, “big iron” and “the man who shot liberty valance.”
Good stuff. I like to write ones like that
Nobody Knows his name
Vs 1:
As hoofbeats kicked a cloud of dust he rode on into town,
And tumbleweeds rolled as the wind cried out a mournful sound,
He rode a horse named Nemesis,
If you ask what his business is
He’ll say he’s out to find the men who shot his brother down,
Chorus:
He rides a ghost white stallion,
Across the hills and plains,
His words are few and far between,
And all he brings is pain,
His bullets and the rope burn on his neck,
His claim to fame,
He rides upon a Pale Horse
And Nobody knows his name,
Vs 2:
The innocent and righteous,
From this man have naught to fear,
But wicked men should quiver,
When pale Nemesis draws near,
He speaks with lead and powder,
But his silence thunders louder,
And when he is done what he’s begun there’s not a soul to hear,
Chorus:
He rides a ghost white stallion,
Across the hills and plains,
His words are few and far between,
And all he brings is pain,
His bullets and the rope burn on his neck,
His claim to fame,
He rides upon a Pale Horse
And Nobody knows his name,
Bridge:
He found the men that he pursued, in a town off the Rio Bravo,
And bullets flew but he walked through, undaunted by their salvo,
But one by one he shot them down, and the last thing that they’d see,
Was the laughing grin, of a man condemned, they’d left hanged in a tree.
Chorus:
He rides a ghost white stallion,
Across the hills and plains,
His words are few and far between,
And all he brings is pain,
His bullets and the rope burn on his neck,
His claim to fame,
He rides upon a Pale Horse
And Nobody knows his name,
Good stuff. I like to write ones like that
Nobody Knows his name
Vs 1:
As hoofbeats kicked a cloud of dust he rode on into town,
And tumbleweeds rolled as the wind cried out a mournful sound,
He rode a horse named Nemesis,
If you ask what his business is
He’ll say he’s out to find the men who shot his brother down,
Chorus:
He rides a ghost white stallion,
Across the hills and plains,
His words are few and far between,
And all he brings is pain,
His bullets and the rope burn on his neck,
His claim to fame,
He rides upon a Pale Horse
And Nobody knows his name,
Vs 2:
The innocent and righteous,
From this man have naught to fear,
But wicked men should quiver,
When pale Nemesis draws near,
He speaks with lead and powder,
But his silence thunders louder,
And when he is done what he’s begun there’s not a soul to hear,
Chorus:
He rides a ghost white stallion,
Across the hills and plains,
His words are few and far between,
And all he brings is pain,
His bullets and the rope burn on his neck,
His claim to fame,
He rides upon a Pale Horse
And Nobody knows his name,
Bridge:
He found the men that he pursued, in a town off the Rio Bravo,
And bullets flew but he walked through, undaunted by their salvo,
But one by one he shot them down, and the last thing that they’d see,
Was the laughing grin, of a man condemned, they’d left hanged in a tree.
Chorus:
He rides a ghost white stallion,
Across the hills and plains,
His words are few and far between,
And all he brings is pain,
His bullets and the rope burn on his neck,
His claim to fame,
He rides upon a Pale Horse
And Nobody knows his name,
This post was edited on 2/13/22 at 2:07 pm
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:01 pm to Pandy Fackler
quote:
My trashy, retard sister in law got a lower back tattoo of, you guessed it....Her son's name
Well at least it won’t need to be crossed out
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:03 pm to UndercoverBryologist
quote:
1. Rap lyricists are routinely among the best and most virtuosic lyricists in contemporary music.
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:07 pm to fr33manator
quote:
I miss the old western story songs. Like “el paso”, “big iron” and “the man who shot liberty valance.”
El Paso is one of the greatest songs ever written.
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:08 pm to Pandy Fackler
How many cocks did you already smoke today?
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:08 pm to LegendInMyMind
quote:
1. Rap lyricists are routinely among the best and most virtuosic lyricists in contemporary music.
Nah.
Country music descended from the heights of Krist Kristofferson singing
quote:
Yesterday they found him on the floor of his hotel Reachin' towards the needle, Lord, that drove him down to Hell Some folks called it suicide, others blame the speed But we all called it crucified when Billy Dee O.D.'d
To the bro country band of the week singing about “drinking my Natty Lite on Friday night and she’s not all right”
While most rap lyrics contain 200 syllables a second, with far more complex rhyme schemes, and draw far more interesting imagery
quote:
The kingdom's on fire, the blood of a young messiah I see sinners in a church, I see sinners in a church Sometimes I might be introvert There's a war inside, I hear battle cries Mothers burying sons, young boys playing with guns
This post was edited on 2/13/22 at 2:11 pm
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:09 pm to Pandy Fackler
Here’s one I wrote the other night in that vein
High Noon
Dust swirls ‘round their stirrups,
As they step into the street,
Townsfolk stare in silence,
Time is measured in heartbeats,
Tumbleweeds roll slowly,
The sun is belching down,
Arms are at akimbo,
Boots are planted on the ground,
On one side stands an outlaw,
With a price upon his head,
Staring down his foe,
And oh for sure he wants him dead,
The bounty hunter’s poster,
Says “wanted: Dead or Alive”
And when it comes to High Noon,
Only one man will survive,
High Noon, High Noon,
For someone well the end is coming soon,
High Noon, High Noon,
There’ll be no headstone laid upon their tomb.
The moments last for eons,
Their trigger fingers itch,
And yet they stand like statues,
Waiting for the slightest twitch,
Wind ripples through their dusters,
But neither says a word,
The only sound, a screeching,
From a circling carrion bird,
The menfolk watch from windows,
The women hide their eyes,
Their standoff only ends one way,
And someone’s gonna die,
High Noon, High Noon,
Well you could hear a pin drop in the room,
High Noon, High Noon,
The church bell tolls the sound of waiting doom,
Their eyes stare towards forever,
As they hear the final chime,
Then swifter than a whipcrack,
Comes the toll of killing time,
Their play is fast as lightning,
Draws quicker than a wink,
The action would be missed,
If someone dared to even blink,
As rapid as quicksilver,
Do their hands go to their hips,
In moments lasting lifetimes,
Leather’s cleared and bullets rip,
High Noon, High Noon,
The stench of gunsmoke heady as perfume,
High Noon, High Noon,
As fiery roses from their barrels bloom,
Suspended in forever,
Somewhere the reaper calls,
As red spreads like a rumor,
O’er a heart as one man falls,
One gunslinger stands stalwart,
And now he stands alone,
His aim was true, the duel is through,
As bullet greets the bone,
Upon that street of judgement,
Only one man can remain,
One more notch on his pistol,
As the hunter makes his claim…
High Noon, High Noon,
High Noon
High Noon
Dust swirls ‘round their stirrups,
As they step into the street,
Townsfolk stare in silence,
Time is measured in heartbeats,
Tumbleweeds roll slowly,
The sun is belching down,
Arms are at akimbo,
Boots are planted on the ground,
On one side stands an outlaw,
With a price upon his head,
Staring down his foe,
And oh for sure he wants him dead,
The bounty hunter’s poster,
Says “wanted: Dead or Alive”
And when it comes to High Noon,
Only one man will survive,
High Noon, High Noon,
For someone well the end is coming soon,
High Noon, High Noon,
There’ll be no headstone laid upon their tomb.
The moments last for eons,
Their trigger fingers itch,
And yet they stand like statues,
Waiting for the slightest twitch,
Wind ripples through their dusters,
But neither says a word,
The only sound, a screeching,
From a circling carrion bird,
The menfolk watch from windows,
The women hide their eyes,
Their standoff only ends one way,
And someone’s gonna die,
High Noon, High Noon,
Well you could hear a pin drop in the room,
High Noon, High Noon,
The church bell tolls the sound of waiting doom,
Their eyes stare towards forever,
As they hear the final chime,
Then swifter than a whipcrack,
Comes the toll of killing time,
Their play is fast as lightning,
Draws quicker than a wink,
The action would be missed,
If someone dared to even blink,
As rapid as quicksilver,
Do their hands go to their hips,
In moments lasting lifetimes,
Leather’s cleared and bullets rip,
High Noon, High Noon,
The stench of gunsmoke heady as perfume,
High Noon, High Noon,
As fiery roses from their barrels bloom,
Suspended in forever,
Somewhere the reaper calls,
As red spreads like a rumor,
O’er a heart as one man falls,
One gunslinger stands stalwart,
And now he stands alone,
His aim was true, the duel is through,
As bullet greets the bone,
Upon that street of judgement,
Only one man can remain,
One more notch on his pistol,
As the hunter makes his claim…
High Noon, High Noon,
High Noon
This post was edited on 2/13/22 at 2:12 pm
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:11 pm to Pandy Fackler
quote:
white trash
quote:
Pandy Fackler
Checks out.
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:13 pm to BobABooey
quote:
The Pretty Boy, Flat Bellied, Nashvegas pop music today is nothing like the music enjoyed by Buford and Sissy.
Love the movie and the soundtrack, but eighties pop-country was looked down on by traditionalists too.
For that matter, when legendary guitarist/producer/record company exec Chet Atkins ushered in the Nashville Sound in the late sixties by incorporating full orchestral arrangements, he scandalized purists who thought country music began and ended with fiddle and banjo. Nothing ever stays the same.
This post was edited on 2/13/22 at 2:15 pm
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:13 pm to auggie
quote:
How many cocks did you already smoke today?
Uh oh.
I can see someone's Mom or old lady has a word tattoo.
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:16 pm to Pandy Fackler
quote:
Uh oh.
I can see someone's Mom or old lady has a word tattoo.
Nope, but people who start threads criticizing, or worried about what music others write or listen to, seem like Hitler syndrome cocksuckers.
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:18 pm to Jim Rockford
quote:
Love the movie and the soundtrack, but eighties pop-country was looked down on by traditionalists too.
For that matter, when legendary guitarist/producer/record company exec Chet Atkins ushered in the Nashville Sound in the late sixties by incorporating full orchestral arrangements, he scandalized purists who thought country music began and ended with fiddle and banjo. Nothing ever stays the same.
It’s less the orchestral arrangements and production value I dislike and more so the pervasive themes of bro country, or rather the absence of themes from classic country, that I find boring in country.
I’m a little tired of 3 minute (what are essentially) pop songs about pick-up trucks, tubin, Natty Lite, dipping, and cut off jeans and would really like a depressing song about a dead dog once in a while.
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:21 pm to Pandy Fackler
Damn, I'm a late downvoter to this
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:23 pm to UndercoverBryologist
quote:
would really like a depressing song about a dead dog once in a while.
I’ve got some stuff right up your alley
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:23 pm to auggie
quote:
Nope, but people who start threads criticizing, or worried about what music others write or listen to, seem like Hitler syndrome cocksuckers.
Holy shite, that's heavy man.
You evoked Hitler.
I don't use the letters LOL often. In fact, virtually never but you've earned it.
LO fricking L man!!!
Oh and I'm upvoting that shite too.
This post was edited on 2/13/22 at 2:25 pm
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:27 pm to Pandy Fackler
quote:
Pandy Fackler
I bet you also concern yourself with other people's clothes and hairstyles.
Posted on 2/13/22 at 2:27 pm to Pandy Fackler
Oh and for the record. I felt this most appropriate for the OT but it was moved here.
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