Last week, I talked about how it’s starting to feel like country music’s romance with the stylized 90s renaissance is exiting its honeymoon phase. The era that Zach Top helped usher onto main stages just a few short years ago is now ripe with copycats and labels scrambling to replicate the sound. MCA, Warner, Sony, and Big Loud have all signed some variation on the style that Top helped push back into the cultural conversation in the last few years.
The music itself is not the issue. These acts are just a product of an increasingly rapid recycling process that nostalgia and an overall cultural plateau have left us with in the throes of the 2020’s. In a postmodern world, it’s extremely difficult to make music that actually pushes the needle; thus, much of what gets butts in seats is a variation or a new take on a sound audiences are already familiar with. If it ain’t broke, have Carson Chamberlain get the band back together and remind the old crowd of their days in senior high.
But all of this is coinciding with another seismic event on the other side of the spectrum: the long-awaited (or long dreaded, depending on who you ask) reunion of Florida Georgia Line. The duo appeared on stage together for the first time since 2022 at Country Radio Seminar in March, and now are teasing a much more dramatic reunion set at Stagecoach in April. I think the demand is indicative of something much larger shifting in country music, when put in the context of a fatigued status quo.
The writing has been on the wall for a while now, too. Morgan Wallen and, more recently, Bailey Zimmerman both run in creative circles similar to those FGL occupied in their heyday. The two have toyed with being brash and poppy for a few years but never seem to fully commit to it. The first true reiteration of the bro era is arguably much newer, in the form of Graham Barham. The divisiveness and eye rolls from the purists only go to hammer that point home, too. Barham has been vocal about finding mentorship in both Brian Kelley and Tyler Hubbard and continues to take the playbook of country music, wad it up, and throw it in the trash. The music is loud, sometimes obnoxious, but more importantly, it’s not caught up in what country music was; Barham seems far more interested in what it could be.
That thumping, in-your-face mantra is maybe the next evolution of the genre in terms of commercial appeal, or at least one of them. It’s the amalgamation of influence blending made more seamless in a post-genre world, coupled with the fact that the next generation of country stars probably grew up listening to Sam Hunt over Sammy Kershaw. Barham could just be a flash in the pan, but I’m inclined to believe that it’s trying to move the genre forward even as it continues to look back at what once was. The “club country” mantra may end up being more than a kitschy tagline, for better or for worse.
