Country music is filled with iconography. Whether it be the archetypal wandering cowpoke on the range, rambling outlaw or the city-dwelling sweetheart, it's a genre where typology is as vital to the very essence of the music as any chord progression or lyrical allegory. Luckily for us, in 2022, we have a handful of country icons still kicking around. Arguably, the most relevant and influential for this current country music revival — or should I say reformation shaped by the Yeehaw Agenda — is the original queer-country darling Patrick Haggerty, a.k.a. Lavender Country.
Now, Blackberry Rose is not what fans of Haggerty's disciples may be expecting. Those who follow in his footsteps make country music that is more genre-fluid than we have ever heard before. One might assume Haggerty would take a step towards modernism to play to the crowd that wants to listen to Trixie Mattel or Orville Peck but the most compelling aspect while listening to Blackberry Rose is that it sounds notably rooted in traditional forms of country music. There are blues numbers, bluegrass tracks, barn burners, and mournful ballads, all of which sound, well, old-school.
Blackberry Rose isn't a glorification of the past, nor a ham-fisted reminder of country music's golden era. It exists, perfectly, in this decade. Haggerty shows his ability to tether the past to the present, and through his music, he can synthesize the complicated emotional turmoil of humankind. Or, more specifically, that of the queer community that he belongs to.
Haggerty doesn't take long to make this historical framework in which he operates known. He opens Blackberry Rose with a re-envisioning of "I Can't Shake The Stranger Out of You" that appeared on Lavender Country's 1973 self-titled debut. Like that first release, Haggerty stays political and intentionally remains outside the mainstream country music industry on Blackberry Rose, shit-talking cops and calling out fascist politicians. In "Clara Fraser, Clara Fraser," he takes on the persona of an antagonist who tries to undermine the acclaimed political organizer. "Her politics ain't ladylike / I just can't stand her abrasive behaviour," sings the narrator over the whimsical, upbeat jig.
One of the most fun and playful songs is the smoky and musky "Gay Bar Blues." Haggerty expertly sets the scene, and you can perfectly imagine the rural honky-tonk dive bar in which the song exists. "If I don't hook a dude, I'm gonna drown in wine coolers / I got the gay bar blues," sings Haggerty before the song breaks into a fierce fiddle solo working in tandem with a grungy guitar.
Country music is a genre of shared stories, and through the lending of lyrics, arrangements, and melodies, we find consolation in our solitude. Haggerty expresses this in a rather unique and humorous way in his reworking of Tammy Wynette's infamous "Stand By Your Man." Among certain interpretations, Wynette's song values a woman's uncritical submission to her husband regardless of transgression. But on Blackberry Rose, it has been transformed into "Stand On Your Man," and Haggerty, along with Nikki Grossman, takes Wynette's enduring melody and mutates the song into their own dynamic narrative about self-actualization and gender role reversal. "If he gets sassy, you might have to kick his ass until he learns to jump at your command," Grossman sings confidently. It's the type of cheeky homage to country music history that Lavender Country did so well on their eponymous record almost 50 years ago.
Haggerty's political disposition may lean into the comical, but on the song "Blackberry Rose," he uses a somber tone and his acute lyrical ability to tell the story of the lynching of a Black man who fell in love and started a family with a white woman in the early 1900s. In the ballad, Haggerty describes their relationship as "The finest and tenderest you could ever find in humankind." Ultimately, the white folks in the community tear the lovers apart, killing the Black man and the child. The narrative is reminiscent of Bob Dylan's "Hattie Carroll," and uses historical truths to bring awareness to contemporary injustices.
And baby, in times like these, the world can be thankful for more music from Lavender Country.
(Don Giovanni)Now, Blackberry Rose is not what fans of Haggerty's disciples may be expecting. Those who follow in his footsteps make country music that is more genre-fluid than we have ever heard before. One might assume Haggerty would take a step towards modernism to play to the crowd that wants to listen to Trixie Mattel or Orville Peck but the most compelling aspect while listening to Blackberry Rose is that it sounds notably rooted in traditional forms of country music. There are blues numbers, bluegrass tracks, barn burners, and mournful ballads, all of which sound, well, old-school.
Blackberry Rose isn't a glorification of the past, nor a ham-fisted reminder of country music's golden era. It exists, perfectly, in this decade. Haggerty shows his ability to tether the past to the present, and through his music, he can synthesize the complicated emotional turmoil of humankind. Or, more specifically, that of the queer community that he belongs to.
Haggerty doesn't take long to make this historical framework in which he operates known. He opens Blackberry Rose with a re-envisioning of "I Can't Shake The Stranger Out of You" that appeared on Lavender Country's 1973 self-titled debut. Like that first release, Haggerty stays political and intentionally remains outside the mainstream country music industry on Blackberry Rose, shit-talking cops and calling out fascist politicians. In "Clara Fraser, Clara Fraser," he takes on the persona of an antagonist who tries to undermine the acclaimed political organizer. "Her politics ain't ladylike / I just can't stand her abrasive behaviour," sings the narrator over the whimsical, upbeat jig.
One of the most fun and playful songs is the smoky and musky "Gay Bar Blues." Haggerty expertly sets the scene, and you can perfectly imagine the rural honky-tonk dive bar in which the song exists. "If I don't hook a dude, I'm gonna drown in wine coolers / I got the gay bar blues," sings Haggerty before the song breaks into a fierce fiddle solo working in tandem with a grungy guitar.
Country music is a genre of shared stories, and through the lending of lyrics, arrangements, and melodies, we find consolation in our solitude. Haggerty expresses this in a rather unique and humorous way in his reworking of Tammy Wynette's infamous "Stand By Your Man." Among certain interpretations, Wynette's song values a woman's uncritical submission to her husband regardless of transgression. But on Blackberry Rose, it has been transformed into "Stand On Your Man," and Haggerty, along with Nikki Grossman, takes Wynette's enduring melody and mutates the song into their own dynamic narrative about self-actualization and gender role reversal. "If he gets sassy, you might have to kick his ass until he learns to jump at your command," Grossman sings confidently. It's the type of cheeky homage to country music history that Lavender Country did so well on their eponymous record almost 50 years ago.
Haggerty's political disposition may lean into the comical, but on the song "Blackberry Rose," he uses a somber tone and his acute lyrical ability to tell the story of the lynching of a Black man who fell in love and started a family with a white woman in the early 1900s. In the ballad, Haggerty describes their relationship as "The finest and tenderest you could ever find in humankind." Ultimately, the white folks in the community tear the lovers apart, killing the Black man and the child. The narrative is reminiscent of Bob Dylan's "Hattie Carroll," and uses historical truths to bring awareness to contemporary injustices.
And baby, in times like these, the world can be thankful for more music from Lavender Country.