The relationship between critics and fans is tumultuous by its very definition. But the relationship between fans and their peers doesn’t have to be as awkwardly intolerant as it often is at country music concerts.
I’ve always followed and written about country music to some extent, and when I praise Shania Twain for her dazzling stage show or Dwight Yoakam for his brilliant songwriting, country fans love me.
But when I praise the Dixie Chicks or dismiss Toby Keith, that’s another story.
A couple of weeks ago, I took Keith to task in a concert review that called his music out for being mindless and lowest common denominator. . It notes that Keith writes songs based on touristy T-shirt slogans, including “Stays in Mexico,” “Who’s Your Daddy?” and “Get Drunk and Be Somebody.”
The review made me a few enemies, sure. But it was an honest critique of the show.
Equally honest but a lot more disturbing were a few conversations I was forced into that same night – not in the capacity of critic but as a fan.
The setup is brief. I wore to the show what I wore to work that day: flip-flops, jeans and an “I (HEART) SF” T-shirt. My cousin Mark is a massive Keith fan, so we carpooled. But after making it up the ramp at Red Rocks, an alternate universe took over.
“You’re brave for wearing that shirt to a Toby Keith show,” one woman shouted at me, her outstretched finger poking my chest.
“Oh yeah, why?” I asked.
“Oh, you know,” she said, walking away with a look of consternation on her face.
I knew exactly what she meant, but I didn’t want to give her that satisfaction.
“No, really, why?” I insisted, trying to get her to say that wearing an “I (HEART) SF” shirt was somehow a pro- gay statement – in a very red-state crowd. And while I fully support gays in their fight for equal rights and respect, my reason for wearing the shirt is simpler than that: I really do love San Francisco.
“You wear that shirt in Nashville, and you’ll get shot.”
It’s 15 minutes later, and I’m backstage, and some cowboy concert promoter is in the office leering at me. I had a simple question about the venue’s wireless network, which was answered quickly by a local Live Nation rep. But during a short exchange with the cowboy he eventually said, “Well, let’s just say there are certain things about San Francisco that we don’t like in Nashville.”
I was perturbed, but filed my review and met my cousin on the stairs, where we watched Keith’s big finale. (Because of The Denver Post’s deadlines, we sometimes must file reviews before a concert’s encore.) I told my cousin about the two run-ins, and he shook his head.
“That’s messed up,” he said, “because after you left to file, that woman who was standing to your left asked me, ‘So, are you boys gay?’ I told her no, that we were cousins, and she said that surprised her because of your shirt.
“You gotta be careful with some country audiences,” said Mark, a massive, but progressive, country fan himself. “I just don’t get it.”
I didn’t get it either, but I disagreed that you have to be careful around country audiences. I’ve never been one to walk on eggshells, so now I think I’ve found my official country concert outfit:
It’s that “I (HEART) SF” T-shirt as long as it lasts.
Pop music critic Ricardo Baca can be reached at 303-954-1394 or rbaca@denverpost.com.
