I read an essay called "The Loss of the Creature" by Walker Percy,
and it made me realize that sometimes people need a break form the
typical viewing of life. They need to take a step back and think
about what is before them. Only then can they truly appreciate what
is there. The catch, however, is how to achieve this new outlook.
Simple, everyday occurrences and the most common objects must be seen
with a new perspective (Percy 46-63).
Music, for example, has become very "common," especially in American
culture. To the present generation, music seems to be more common
than ever. Americans have grown so accustomed to hearing music in the
background that they no longer listen. It has become nothing more
than "acoustic wallpaper," as my professor Dr. Kemp is fond of
saying. Walk through the mall, eat in a restaurant, go to an
amusement park, watch a movie, and there will be music playing, but
very few people will be paying one bit of attention to it.
I was certainly not immune to the "acoustic wallpaper" syndrome. I'm still not. I will always walk into a room, turn on the radio, and immediately do something else that drowns out the music. Therefore, selecting a single album to take with me to a desert island was quite an undertaking. It required "stepping back" and listening to all my CD's in order to decide. It required a careful analysis of my reasons for bringing each disk. I knew that before I even began. Still, I needed a starting point.
I'm a practical person, so I selected my CD in a practical fashion. I followed a very similar method to the one Nick Tosches describes in his essay from Stranded, "The Sea's Endless, Awful Rhythm and me Without Even a Dirty Picture" (Tosches 3-10). I asked myself which album wouldn't drive me absolutely insane within three days of my being stranded since I couldn't think of a CD to which I was deeply and meaningfully attached. Obviously liking a majority of the songs was a necessity, and I also knew I didn't want a CD that induces an excessive amount of thinking. When I think too hard, I start philosophizing, which for some reason makes me depressed. I'd already be depressed enough from being stranded on a floating lump of sand. I needed an album with a storyline that would draw me in and let me forget about my pitiful situation. The feeling of human companionship that you sense when the singer tells a story would be greatly comforting to a castaway as well.
I eliminated my entire CD collection one piece at a time before finally settling on Travis Tritt's Greatest Hits (From the Beginning). It fit the basic criteria: all the songs are enjoyable, and there's a good balance of loud/soft and fast/slow. I already knew the lyrics, and I actually had listened to the album in its entirety several times for the sole purpose of hearing the music. I didn't do homework, or clean the room, or talk; I just listened. Now all of this was well and good, but did I really want to be stuck with this disk for what could quite possibly become the rest of my life?
My country taste stems from my mother and grandfather; my father is the rock and roll fan of the family. Mama had raised me on a steady diet of folk songs, a few Broadway musicals' soundtracks (she used to sing me to sleep with The Sound of Music), classical (she played the piano), and of course, Sesame Street, but Daddy made a noble attempt to transform me, and he succeededÐpartially. I do have a habit of turning the volume up a little too far, and my tendency toward punk annoys my roommate (although she doesn't say so), but when I'm in the mood for music, real music, my mother's deeply engrained influence surfaces, and I turn back to country.
Real music. What do I mean by that? The easiest way to explain it is it's the alternative to "acoustic wallpaper." Most of rock and roll, punk especially, I consider nice background noise and nothing more. Usually the bass is so pounding that the lyrics are unintelligible, but when they can be understood, they don't make much sense. I don't care though; I like the noise. I love to put down the car windows on a hot summer day and fly around town with the radio blasting, and when I'm at the beach, nothing else will do. With all the people swarming about on the tourist strip and waterfront, the noise and pure upheaval of rock and roll is definitely welcome.
When you're alone, music becomes more important to you because
you're forced to listen in the way Percy describes. Assuming you're
technologically brilliant enough to construct a CD player out of a
cactus, you're going to confront the album you've chosen with a
brutal reality. There has to be depth because it will be your sole
companion, your link to the human world.
Nearly every song Travis Tritt has ever recorded, he either wrote
himself or co-wrote, so each song has a special meaning for him. In
Stranded, Miller makes the statement, "Rock works on many
levels: as shared enthusiasm, public entertainment, communal
experience; but also as secret fantasy, private escape, a personal
obsession" (Miller 46). This statement can be made more universal by
saying "Music works on many levels." At least one of Travis'
songs can be matched to each category: nearly all fit under "shared
enthusiasm, public entertainment, (and) communal experience," "Drift
Off to Dream" is definitely a "secret fantasy," "Ten Feet Tall and
Bulletproof" can be seen as a "private escape," and "Anymore" can be
seen as a "personal obsession."
Travis says, "There are certain times when people feel real rowdy and feel like shooting their mouths off, and there are times when that same person may feel very vulnerable, very much in love or very broken up because someone doesn't love them. Life has that balance, and music should, too" (Himes, Grit and All 15). That attitude is a large part of his appeal, and indeed the appeal of country music in general. Music is most appealing when it suits your mood. Country not only does this, but its simple storylines allow you to escape the present and be transported into the singer's world for a moment.
Travis tends to focus on love and lost love. Some of his songs can be extremely depressing if you listen to the lyrics alone. He writes when he's in "turmoil" with both his "heart and head churning" (Tritt 21), and the "turmoil" comes through in his writing. The plain music, though, is usually more upbeat, and the bass is steady and solid. Life will go on; he will get through whatever heartache he's suffering. Lichtenstein says the Eagles' Desperado is "oddly comforting" to listen to alone because although "it's sad," it's "instructive" as well (Lichtenstein 88). Travis' music arouses the same feeling. You pick up on an underlying flippancy about the situation that prevents you from becoming depressed.
Growing up on a farm, singing in church, getting married straight out of school, getting a divorce (and turning right around and doing it again), playing the honky-tonks, being caught up in the whirlwind called "the road," the whiskey and women, and the ups and downs that come with the territory--Travis Tritt's entire life could have been made up simply from listening to country music. His own songs are his autobiography, but that's the biggest appeal. He sums it up himself:
I remember sitting on the floor at my grandparents' house and
listening to George Jones and Patsy Cline. I listen to country now on
the radio, and most of the new artists are completely different from
those legends of the Grand Old Opry, but I still like what I
hear.
Travis Tritt is a medium between the two. That's part of what drew me to his music. His voice is rich and deep and he can sing a ballad beautifully, but without warning, he can jump into a rowdy "good-old-boys" tune that will brighten any mood with its quick bouncy beat. I'm not sure why I seem to relate to Travis' songs, but I do. The album is definitely a stereotypical country album: the songs revolve around whiskey and women, and yes, he mentions his truck. Still, it appeals to me more than others of the same genre.
Simply put, the album suits my personality. "Here's a Quarter (Call Someone who Cares)" was written after his second divorce. I haven't had an experience exactly the same, but I understand what he's feeling. He's hurt, but he's sarcastic enough that you know he'll move on. "Call someone who'll listen/ Who might give a damn/ Maybe one of your sordid affairs." In three lines he tells the reason for his heartache and his attitude toward the girl who caused it. There's a steady strum of a guitar, slow and forceful in the background. It plods along, like he will until he gets over her.
"Anymore" is closer to something I've actually felt. It's soft and pleading, and he holds the last note of the stanzas and trails downward, like he's begging. He sings, "I can't hide the way I feel about you anymore" in such a way that you know exactly how it feels to love someone but not have the chance or courage to tell the person.
"Ten Feet Tall and Bulletproof" is my favorite of his upbeat songs. It's loud and fast-paced with a stronger drumbeat than his others, and he sounds happy and carefree. I can picture several of my friends in the same situation. It's the perfect drinking song. He tells about being so drunk that he "start(s) to feel like Superman/ And then (he) pick(s) a fight/ Only to find that (his) opponent's/ Holding Krptonite." I laugh every time.
Travis Tritt's songs are very easy to "get lost in," and if I were on a desert island, I would want to think of anything other than being stranded. He tells stories that captivate you. Whether it's something as straightforward as "I'm Gonna Be Somebody," one of his earlier releases, or more complicated like "Can I Trust You With my Heart?," he conveys through careful diction and tone of voice the emotions he feels in the situation created by each song.
The album ends with "Drift Off to Dream," my favorite song by any
artist. The lyrics are beautiful. He wistfully dreams of meeting that
"special someone." He sings, "You might be hundreds of more miles
away/ Or you might be just down the street/ But there'll be a hunger/
Deep in your eyes/ That I'll recognize when we meet." I may be
practical, and I'm not very passionate about much (except when I'm
angry), but even practical people can dream. As much as I don't like
to admit it, I'm a romantic at heart, and this song makes me stop and
listen every time.
Himes, Geoffrey. "Travis Tritt, Grit and All." Washington Post 21 May 1993, 15WW.
Lichtenstein, Grace. "Desperado." Stranded: Rock and Roll for a
Desert Island. Ed. Greil Marcus. New York: Da Capo, 1996.
84-92.
Miller, Jim. "Presenting the Fabulous Ronettes Featuring Veronica."
Stranded: Rock and Roll for a Desert Island. Ed. Greil Marcus.
New York: Da Capo, 1996. 40-48.
Percy, Walker. "The Loss of the Creature." The Message in the
Bottle. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1975: 46-63.
Tosches, Nick. "The Sea's Endless, Awful Rhythm and me Without Even a
Dirty Picture." Stranded: Rock and Roll for a Desert Island.
Ed. Greil Marcus. New York: Da Capo, 1996. 40-48.
Tritt, Travis. Ten Feet Tall and Bulletproof. With Michael
Bane. New York: Warner, 1994.