With the release of “Cowboy Carter,” Beyoncé's eighth solo album and an album in which she explores and tests the boundaries of country music, much of the early conversation centered on whether the country music industry would rally around her. Beyoncé is one of the most commercially successful and creatively vibrant pop stars of the 21st century. Surely her appearance will raise cheers for her. Isn't that right?
not quite.
Instead of a welcome party, Beyonce shrugged her shoulders. One of her two singles released ahead of her album, “Texas Hold 'Em” is an exquisite mix of old and new. She demonstrates her familiarity with the sonic principles of old-time country while maintaining the infectious nature of modern pop. Despite this, it received very minimal attention on country radio. Beyonce is black and a woman, two groups that modern Nashville has consistently marginalized and marginalized. And it seems like none of the built-in celebrity can undo that.
Modern mainstream country music often feels like a closed loop of white male storytelling. That's why it's a red herring in every sense of the word whether Beyoncé and Nashville can find common cause. Neither side is particularly interested in the other. The traditional country music business accommodates a certain type of outsider, but it cannot accommodate a black female star like Beyoncé, who focuses on country as art, inspiration, and sociopolitical plaything. , not an industry. Rejection is mutual.
“This is not a country album,” Beyoncé said on Instagram last week. This is the ‘Beyoncé’ album.” It was her statement that she was preemptively denying the country music industry the opportunity to claim ownership over her own work, while at the same time indicating that she had found her creative path outside the boundaries of her genre.
It's almost like she's using the genre's expectations of racism and exclusion as a promotional tool. Instead, Beyoncé explained it personally, adding that her exploration of these musical themes “was born out of an experience many years ago where I felt unwelcome. And it was very clear to me that I was unwelcome.” This is likely a reference to her performance of her own song “Daddy Lessons” with the Dixie Chicks (now Her Chicks) at the 2016 Country Music Association Awards. Nashville Oligarchs.
Of course, the CMA performance was exciting. Sliding-door glimpses of the genre's direction were rarely accepted or relegated to the margins. Through glamor, suspense and elegance, it highlighted what was missing and often what remained of mainstream country.
So Beyoncé kept it for herself instead. In “Cowboy Carter,” she said, she laid out the framework, textures and tricks of country music as an extension of an ongoing musicological project that dates back to her genre-destabilizing 2018 Coachella performance. A feat of almost unimaginable musical prowess, choreography and endurance, it was one of the most stylish and socio-culturally rigorous statements from a pop star in recent memory.
Since then, Beyoncé has evolved from dependable hitmaker to dependable conversation starter, using her massive platform and the fans who flock to it to tell parallel stories about black music's present and past. Her album is both her musical journey and a history lesson. LPs made by similarly themed starlets or spiky provocateurs may be less effective in conveying Beyoncé's argument that black creativity energizes all aspects of popular music.
In her previous album ‘Renaissance’, she highlighted the black queer community through dance music. But country music still ignores its black roots while making it extremely difficult for modern black performers (of which there are many) to get a chance to advance.
That's not to say the country isn't nimble and porous when it wants to be. Country often creates a space for white performers to detach from the genre's trappings. The same goes for how Taylor Swift can easily slip in and out of this mode at will, or how Zach Bryan was adopted by Nashville in a way. He largely avoided identifying himself in that way. Or consider Jelly Roll, the face-tattooed belter who was last year's biggest success as a country star who spent most of the past two decades as a tough white rapper.
In recent weeks, Post Malone has been dropping hints about his country activities. He is pictured with Morgan Wallen and members of the extended Wallen universe, Hardy and Ernest. Despite still living under the shadow of a 2021 incident in which he was caught on video using a racial slur, Wallen remains the genre's reigning superstar, and his popularity hasn't waned much. While Beyoncé and the firmament of Nashville keep a wary eye on each other, Post Malone and Wallen's crew are in a state of mutual embrace, welcoming and strengthening each other. (Country music is also a soft-landing haven for white stars in other genres looking to extend their careers, like Kid Rock, Aaron Lewis or Bon Jovi. Even Lana Del Rey has said she'll be spending time with her on her next album. The genre that appears.)
The fact that Beyoncé is making 'Cowboy Carter' not just to infiltrate the country but as an artistic and political expression will come as a relief to those within the genre interested in preserving its norms. (But it's worth asking whether the reception would be less chilly if a white pop star comparable to Beyoncé was making overtures to country (say, when Lady Gaga or Katy Perry were in their prime).)
But increasingly, the genre is being tested externally. Radio is ceding power to streaming, and there are numerous entry points for country artists looking to eliminate the usual gatekeepers. This was a small boon for non-white male artists, artists who often found their audiences more directly through social media and then had major country music labels catch up.
That's been the path for Tanner Adell, perhaps the most promising black country artist working today and best positioned to benefit from the ripple effect Beyoncé created because of his intuitive blend of country, R&B, and pop. Adell has over 650,000 followers on TikTok and over 480,000 on Instagram, has a knack for viral catchphrases, and a healthy respect for country music tastes and a keen understanding of when to disrupt them.
But perhaps more revealing is the recent viral success of “Austin,” by an essentially unknown white singer, Dasha, a catchy, self-conscious “country” song that sparked a line-dancing trend on TikTok. Does it have quite a bit in common with the song ‘Austin’? “Texas Hold’em.” Both feature banjos and very self-consciously nod to country traditions. Often modern mainstream country music bears little sonic resemblance to the genre's roots, but this song clearly highlights that connection. (The words ‘Old Town Road’ come to mind.)
The country music business doesn't seem to be all that obsessed with country music's most familiar symbols. “Texas Hold ‘Em” currently sits at No. 1 on Billboard’s Hot Country Songs chart, which accounts for its genre-agnostic streaming activity, but not yet. It ranked very high on the Country Airplay chart, which tracks radio play, a real indicator of genre inclusion.
Scroll through Dasha's back catalog and you'll see that country is her mode, if not her outfit. Before this year, very little of her music had a nod to country. Nonetheless, “Austin” established itself as one of the signature country songs of the year. The breakthrough is still relatively new, and interest is likely to grow quickly. Will Dasha be welcomed as a country artist, or will she be shunned like an interloper? You may not be surprised when the answer arrives.