Originally published at Reckonin.com
Most of the music we hear in modern life is of the pre-recorded sort, mass produced by corporations. One might argue that the large-scale production and distribution of music has some upsides – we can experience a wider variety of musical styles, and the work of the most talented artists can be appreciated by everyone regardless of income or locale. Music can also be passed down to subsequent generations, even after the performers have passed on.
However, I think most of us realize that the commercialization of music has caused something of value to be lost. The modern entertainment industry has all but killed off authentic country music, and many modern genres are so artificial and over-produced, they are barely recognizable as music – they are essentially to music what Cheetos and jellybeans are to food – fitting the general definition but providing no nourishment.
Music used to be something shared by communities and familes, for the purpose of worship and shared joy. There is certainly value to the skill of performers who are world-class in vocal performance or technical proficiency with their instruments. But there is a different kind of value to the soulful expression of an individual or authentic culture through music, and the incorporation of meaningful music into the daily lives of ordinary individuals. In this short clip, Andy Griffith evokes nostalgia of a hurried businessman by singing “Church in the Wildwood.” while rocking on his porch with a guitar.
One modern troubador that embodies the expression of soulful poetry and profound truth-telling is Jesse Welles. (Contrast him with Oliver Anthony, the globalist-promoted facsimile of a populist performer who vent viral for his song “Rich Men North of Richmond” a few years ago). On his YouTube channel, Arkansan Welles performs solo, usually in a rural setting with only a guitar and sometimes a harmonica, delivering piercing and profound lyrics. Some are quite personal, as in “Take Me to the Graveyard” wherein he croons, “Oh Grandmama, you always knew. Someday I won’t have to miss you.” His topical songs cleverly and powerfully slash through the massive façade of lies that typically characterize modern discourse. Trump’s enigmatic persona is lampooned in “Red” in which he also excoriates “hillbilly” JD Vance: “I got me a red bull dog, technocratic bootstrap-tugging buddy. He wrote an elegy for a people he don’t know, and it ain’t funny.” His frequently-released videos are often timely reactions to current news. The day the USA began bombing Iran he released, “Deja Vu” portraying the promoters of perpetual war as characters in an allegorical bar fight. “I was drinking Diet Coke with the common folk in a bar down in Tel Aviv, when in walked my friend. He was grinning a grin, ’cause he knows that the tab’s on me.” Most recently, he slammed the Epstein coverup in The List. “There’s 10,000 hours of sunshine and flowers and nobody doing a damn thing wrong.”
The comment sections are full of people lauding Welles’ adept truth-telling. It’s clear that so many people hungry for authentic music that speaks to the soul. I am of the belief that music the primary purpose of which is to evoke joy and convey transcendent meaning, is a Divine gift. I think we should intentionally reclaim it from commercial entities, and make an effort to create and share music and incorporate personally expressive music into our daily lives. Music is a vehicle to convey truth and preserve culture that resonates with people in a way that no amount of blogs and podcasts ever could. If we want to promote a renaissance of culture, we ought to rekindle authentic music – truthful and personal. It will awaken the soul of a people.
The views expressed at AbbevilleInstitute.org are not necessarily the views of the Abbeville Institute.
“they are essentially to music what Cheetos and jellybeans are to food – fitting the general definition but providing no nourishment.”
And are slow poison to the soul.
“while rocking on his porch with a guitar.”
My favorite pastime is porch sitting.