Boot Scoot? Or Scoot Away, Khed?: The state of country music in RI

Nashville, Austin … Kent County? Rhode Island isn’t necessarily the first place that comes to mind when you think of country music, but it might not be too much of a stretch to associate the two.

On the shores of Lake Mishnock in West Greenwich stands an unofficial symbol of the state’s country music scene: the three-storied dancehall, Mishnock Barn. Preaching classic Americana with its red clapboard exterior and expansive grounds, the club’s cavernous dance floor is filled with bootscooters every night of the week (bar Thursday and Sunday); and its not all Stetson-clad Boomers reminiscing about the good old days, either. Over the years, Mishnock Barn has become a thriving hotspot for all ages, many of whom are younger than 35. 

“When we opened back in 1992, it was largely middle-aged people,” explains owner Dan Albro, “but today we see a lot of young people. And they come to learn how to dance.”

So popular is the venue among younger generations that Mishnock will be hosting a wedding expo at the end of March, with the Paw Sox throwing an event at the end of May. All across Rhode Island, a whole new generation of musicians forged in the country mold are tearing up stages from Aquidneck to Apponoag. Cactus Attack is a swamp Yankee blues folk band from Providence, and their hell for leather attitude is reminiscent of a young Johnny Cash … four of them. However, for all the band’s uncompromising thunder and bluster, there is a more sober set of realities influencing their movements and attitudes. 

“One of the hardest things playing any style even vaguely reminiscent of country music in the northeast is that cosplay factor,” explains founder and guitar/banjo player, Taylor Brennan. “Folks want to see cowboy hats and banjos and all these epithets, when in reality we couldn’t be further from that stereotype. Emulating musical ideologies from other rural American areas are often lost in the hustle and bustle of the city; it’s rare to see or hear a ‘country band’ from this area that isn’t a blatant extraction from the genre’s cornerstones.”

Brennan continues: “The bands out there that really kill it while playing some country-style riffs and rhythms most likely wouldn’t even identify themselves as country. Many acts who carry the country banner high and proud are primarily cover bands.”

Which is a dilemma for places like Mishnock Barn. The broad sounds of American folk music are popular, the support is large and ever-swelling, but the term “country” isn’t the first word on the lips of those on the inside. Google trends indicate that “folk” and “bluegrass” are almost as popular as “country” in terms of words searched in Rhode Island, and a poll conducted on Motif’s Facebook found that bluegrass was infinitely more popular among people aged 25-38 (96% for bluegrass, as opposed to just 4% for country). It’s not the twang the younger generation abhor, it’s the conservative implications behind the word “country” that they resent. With its steadfast fleet of young farmers in pickup trucks and Joe Diffe shirts, Mishnock may well represent a besieged atoll amid a turbulent sea of change.

And the trends match the reality, even if its full of contradiction and misunderstanding: “Country music has made a comeback,” comments Sara Steadman, vice president of the Country Music Association (CMA), “but the problem with the CMA is that it’s full of classic culture. One of the main reasons I joined the CMA board was to connect with the young artists, but we aren’t having much luck contacting young people.”

But where are all those Joe Diffe t-shirts? For one, the CMA is a very different beast to Mishnock with its booming modern sound system and well-stocked bar. They also don’t understand how to use social media, nor appreciate what younger generations expect from evening venues. As for the Cactus Attacks of the world, the “classic culture” of the CMA echoes the conservative, postwar America, whether it means to or not, and that culture lands on deaf ears in the anti-Boomer climate of the present day. 

What we are seeing in Rhode Island is the standard generational divorce between what was once cool, and what is currently fashionable. One of the victims in that handing of the baton is the definition, and by extension the understanding, of what constitutes country. The takeaway is quite clear. In the broadest sense, country music has a place in Rhode Island, and is welcomed by its residents. What isn’t surviving, and likely to die out, is conservative country music, the music that groups such as the CMA consider to be the heart of country. Bluegrass, folk and swamp rock are here to stay — if anything they are enjoying a revival — but songs about Jesus, tractors and perceived traditional values are headed the way of the dodo.