March 4, 2020 was a great day in my musical universe. For the first time in 14 years, I got to hear from my old friends Natalie Maines, Emily Strayer and Martie Maguire; better known as fiery country-pop trio Dixie Chicks. (Due to a recent name change, they are now simply known as The Chicks).
The girls and I go way back to 1998, when first heard Wide Open Spaces. I’ll admit, during my childhood and into my teens, I was not a country music fan. Growing up listening to my parents old records filled with the stylings of Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton, George Jones and Charley Pride had convinced me that there was no place in my world for this heartbreak, hell-on-earth twang. In the following years, I stayed as far away as I could from any artist sporting a thick southern accent in favour of pop, rock, punk and emo (yes, I was that kid: picture black clothes, WAY too much black eyeliner and a shitty attitude).
But, before all that, the newly minted queens of radio and their first mainstream single had planted a seed in my nine-year-old mind; a seed that whispered, “Hey! This isn’t your parents’ country. This is modern. This is fresh. This is good.”
Who doesn’t know what I’m talking about?/Who’s never left home, never struck out/to find a dream and a life of their own/a place in the clouds/a foundation of stone/many precede and many will follow/a young girl’s dreams no longer hollow/they take the shape of a place out west/but what it holds for her/she hasn’t yet guessed. She needs wide open spaces/room to make a big mistake/she needs new faces/she knows the highest stakes.
This floored me. For the first time, I had heard country music paired with meaningful, relatable lyrics instead of some guy’s achy breaky heart or heavy-duty pickup truck. The song painted a colourful, true-to-life picture that I proudly hung in the wall of my mind. Years later when I left home, that song was the soundtrack to my new journey.
In 1999, the ladies released their critically acclaimed album, Fly. This record would rock my world, and my ears. Spawning singles like Ready to Run, Cowboy Take Me Away, and the cheery murder anthem, Goodbye Earl, I was a total Chicks convert. These women were outspoken, brave and sassy (kind of like me). And, their music was catchy as hell.
I recall one incident where my dad had taken my siblings and I out for a shopping trip, letting us buy one thing we wanted. I chose a Much Dance 1999 cassette tape, and eagerly asked if we could pop it into the car stereo on the way home. What happened next can only be described as embarrassing, awkward and terrifying all at once.
I didn’t realize that a rapper named named Eminem had made his debut that year, and much to my shock and horror, the first single on my new cassette was a crude, profanity-filled number called My Name Is. As Marshall Mathers rapped with vigor about which Spice Girl he wanted to impregnate, my dad’s eyes grew wide with rage, while my siblings chuckled at my predicament in the back seat. When we finally got to a line about a woman being too small to breastfeed a baby, he had had enough (and rightfully so). He ripped the tape out of the cassette deck and nearly threw it out the window.
When we got home, he told me I could keep the tape, on the condition that I record another song over that one. His suggestion? Goodbye Earl.
The original track on my new tape was not acceptable, but a song about three women planning a man’s murder was totally cool. Awesome! Thanks, Dad! 😊
But, that was the versatility of these women: they could sing about anything and make it sound great.
In 2003, they introduced me to the song Landslide by Fleetwood Mac with their reflective and touching cover. In 2005, during my aforementioned emo phase, I saw notes of myself in the rebellious, banjo-driven song, Sin Wagon.
Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition/Need a little bit more of my twelve-ounce nutrition/One more helpin' of what I've been havin'/I'm takin' my turn on the sin wagon.
And finally, in 2006, the sheer unapologetic defiance that came with Not Ready to Make Nice cemented the ladies as badass bitches in my mind. I wasn’t a country fan, but I was a fan of The Chicks. I was determined to follow their career path, wherever it went.
Little did I know that the fierce women I had come to respect and admire would stay silent for the next 14 years. Rejected by the music industry and berated with criticism, it’s no wonder they longed to steer clear of the spotlight. Still, it saddened me that the trio had felt pressure to retreat. To hide. To go away.
So, when the calendar reached March 4 and I heard those voices again in the triumphant comeback tracks Gaslighter, Julianna Calm Down, and most recently, March March, it felt like I was reuniting with people very dear to me. I was pleased to discover that time had not dulled their wit and attitude; it was clear that they were going to continue making music on their own terms, just like they always had.
Some time ago, I came across a quote I really like:
“Happiness is meeting an old friend after a long time and feeling that nothing has changed.”
That’s precisely why I called Natalie Maines, Emily Strayer and Martie Maguire my friends at the beginning of this post. It’s been nearly two decades, and they’re still the same women I grew to love.
However, sometimes change is important: thank goodness I grew out of my dark days and emo ways; I’m sure sporting the looks of my youth would land me at 10 out of 10 on today’s “weirdo” scale. Thanks to my years of experience since then, I’ve managed to knock my score down by at least two points.
What can I say? Progress takes time. Something The Chicks understand all too well.
Is there a band or artist you love that sings a in a genre you don’t typically like? Comment below!
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