The Musical Divide

We planted the seeds of the ‘90s country boom in our last discussion of this series, through Garth Brooks’ No Fences album. This time around, we’re going to dig into the more technical side of what that boom meant for rising acts of the time, not just in terms of sales but in terms of presentation, sound, and delivery, too. It’s not the most complicated discussion of this series, but it is a fun one. Let’s go boot scoot.

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What makes the ‘90s country boom so special?

I answered that on a personal, technical level through an evaluation of the music itself just this week, but on a broader level, country stars of the era – particularly newer ones – held a rare sort of power. You see, these artist were aided by the introduction of the SoundScan system in 1991, which significantly changed country music’s public perception. It was a computerized system that designed to provide a more accurate count of record sales, and replaced the previous model that had been used to tabulate Billboard chart rankings and determine the relative power of individual artists and genres as a whole. The old system, which relied on sales reports sent in by retailers, woefully underrepresented country’s sales figures.

To put that into simpler terms and perspective, our previous focus for this series, Garth Brooks’ No Fences, moved from No. 16 to No. 4 on the pop chart the week the new system debuted; his next album became the first country album to debut at No. 1 on the same chart. Country music had already been growing in popularity by this point; it was just being properly recognized for it now.

Coincidentally, country music’s boom period tied in directly with a rising interest in country dancing, fueled largely by the growth of the music video industry, which offered a one-to-one connection between artists and fans like never before (and remained the best communication method … at least until social media came along).

From barrooms to bar codes, then, technology fueled country music’s rise in the ‘90s like a domino effect, with one medium feeding off another while ultimately all coming together to strengthen a collective core. It certainly helped rising duo Brooks & Dunn at the time, given that their own “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” helped inspire a line dance craze and helped launch them as the biggest duo of the decade.

Well, that’s not quite the full story with them. Really, both Ronnie Dunn and Kix Brooks tried their hands at solo careers in the ‘80s before banding together for that beloved boom period. Neither artist caught much attention with their respective solo singles (although Brooks did attain success as a writer, by penning both John Conlee’s 1983 No. 1 hit “I’m Only in It for the Love” and the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s 1985 hit “Modern Day Romance”), but they did catch Arista Nashville president Tim DuBois’ attention.

He introduced the two singers over lunch one day, insistent that they had to record together. The unlikely combination resulted in a debut album that sold 6 million copies, a result of the aforementioned SoundScan phenomenon, for sure, but also one that was spurred by a fresh new approach to country music in general.

That’s an intentionally vague, loaded statement with multiple meanings behind it, because when you think about it, this is not a combination that should have worked. Sure, the Judds proved just a decade before that a country music duo could be commercially viable in the modern era, but they also drew on a familiar tradition that marked older duos affiliated with country music, like the Everly Brothers and the Louvin Brothers. They were a close-harmony, family built outfit; Brooks & Dunn were anything but that.

Really, when you compare Dunn’s quieter, brooding personality and distinctive vocal chops to Brooks’ admittedly average but far more gregarious, excitable antics, it makes even less sense to pair them together, especially when they were never ones to play off one another for greater effect. Furthermore, if you’ve only ever known them by their biggest singles, you’d probably think it’s mostly Dunn’s show anyway.

If anything, that’s what makes their debut, Brand New Man, a very interesting case study for this feature. It’s not the deepest listen in the world – to be fair, it doesn’t need to be, especially when Brooks & Dunn killed best live and were never really an album-minded act – but it is a far more balanced listen overall than may one think from just its biggest hit singles, which has always made me wonder if the huge Dunn-led singles versus the lone, minor Brooks-led single didn’t influence the duo’s later direction.

Before we dive further into that, however, I’d like to start with the sound and production, because this is another interesting point of debate for this particular decade. Like with No Fences before, the core of this duo’s sound certainly pulls from the ‘80s neotraditional movement via the copious amounts of pedal steel and fiddle, as well as through the chord progressions in general. But it’s presented with an arena-rock level of energy that makes it feel more vivacious and energetic, a trademark combination for many acts of the decade, really. This album rarely slows down in tempo because of that, but that just makes for an overall heavily entertaining and consistently pulsating record.

The weird thing is, it almost defies expectations to really work. Yes, Dunn has the vocal pipes and range to sell just about anything, but I always felt he was best suited for the duo’s more downbeat moments, which at least here includes the classic “Neon Moon,” offering a haven for broken dreamers everywhere. Brooks, on the other hand, is more naturally immediate and charismatic, but to be honest, I get why he wasn’t utilized as much overall. He’s a less distinctive presence who can sometimes oversell some of his jokey, swaggering antics, like here, with the rockabilly shuffle of “Cool Drink of Water.”

But when the melodies have as much as punch and drive as they do here and the hooks are stacked to the brim and carried well, that really hardly matters. It’s especially made noticeable when the writing credits for every track feature at least one member here and the high-octane antics are made to feel consistent and loose in a good way. It starts with the anthemic title track about starting anew in life and love and carries well from there, to the jumpy, playful honky-tonk of “My Next Broken Heart,” to the equally playful, fiddle-laced “Cheating On the Blues,” to the slick electric groove of “Lost and Found,” and to the amped-up Asleep of the Wheel cover we all know as “Boot Scootin’ Boogie.”

Again, there aren’t many moments where this album slows down, which I might label as a negative if the material wasn’t up to snuff. But not only are the high-octane moments usually a blast, it’s also an album that strikes a good balance anyway, not only through the excellent “Neon Moon,” but also via the boozy “I’m No Good” that feels like it was pulled directly from the ‘50s and cut in mind for, say, Hank Williams, as well as the soulful piano ballad closer “Still in Love With You.”

It’s why the surprising star of the show here, at least to me, is Brooks. The singles tell one story, but the actual album is surprisingly split evenly between both artists on lead vocal duty. And while Dunn’s naturally huge, soulful delivery works well for cuts like “My Next Broken Heart” and “Boot Scootin’ Boogie,” I think Brooks’ playful demeanor works well for equally fun cuts such as “Cheating On the Blues” and especially “I’m No Good.” The big highlight for me beyond “Neon Moon,” however, is “Still in Love With You,” if only for its naturally direct, plaintive melodic smolder that Brooks handles well, where he’ll love an ex-partner no matter how much time and distance is placed between them; it’s less theatrical and more just real pain and heartache.

That’s pretty much the name of the game when it comes to the writing, too. Again, it’s rarely that deep or complex, but it is mostly an album about losing love and finding it once more. It’s sometimes a bit too silly for its own good, even if that’s what also lends it charm at points through the title track, the goofy admission of working on his “next broken heart,” pretty much the entirety of “Boot Scootin’ Boogie,” and the conceit of learning to love again on “Cheating On the Blues.” And when there is more at stake, you get, again, a damn beautiful anthem for the lonely souls everywhere out there through “Neon Moon.” But I’d also say Brooks’ more serious, haggard frustration lends tracks like “Lost and Found” and “Still in Love With You” weight as well.

It’s why despite this album arguably carrying their best-ever singles, I’d also call it my favorite of theirs for sporting some of their best deep cuts, too. It makes for an overall easy listen to blast through, and one that’s a consistently entertaining, high-octane rush from start to finish. If anything, it’s the sound of a hungry, fresh-faced duo ready to make their mark on the genre, where the results pretty much speak for themselves – commercially and artistically.

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Join me next time, where we’ll turn away from the big, brash, and bold moments of the mainstream toward something a bit more pensive and thoughtful, with Mary Chapin Carpenter’s Come On Come On.