Where most every other performer distances or snarls at the Bro-Country label, Brantley Gilbert embraces it just to piss off his accusers. And Brantley even takes numerous opportunities to elongate saying “brauoooo!” because he knows it will piss of all the anti-Bro whiners. Seriously, if you split a Bro-Country molecule down to its most very basic components, it would be “Bro Code.” It is the quark of Bro-Country, bro. It’s about a bro, talking with another bro, about how he knows about bro code, but bro, that girl of yours, I’m just saying bro, she out running around. “Bro Code”-just as it sounds, is the most Bro-Country song in the history of Bro, or country. This is the stuff of daddy daughter nightmares, while Gilbert uncharacteristically leans on electronic drums to make the song seem that much more seductive, making the whole thing that much more stylistically and ethically compromised. It pretty much tells the tale of a girl who is over her head with an overly-aggressive asshole trying to pass itself off as some sexy ballad. It may not be substantive, but even the most refined listener who fancies themselves well above the fandom of someone like Brantley Gilbert may find themselves making a guilty pleasure out of a song like “It’s About To Get Dirty.” As bad as Brantley Gilbert is, it’s hard to not recognize how good he is at what he does. Songs like “It’s About to Get Dirty,” and the big lead single “The Weekend” reinforce the work hard, play hard mentality that makes mainstream country music consumers such an enticing demo for corporate advertisers. “Outlaw in Me” and “Bullet in a Bonfire” are solely about what tough guy renegade Brantley Gilbert is. The Devil Don’t Sleep is 80% self-affirmation. It’s always the bully and the Brutus that is actually the most insecure among us, putting off outward toughness to hide a scared little girl inside. Yet most of what I hear is the self-centered, braggadocios barking of a bulldog that uses spiked collars and brass knuckle microphone stands as a shield against what otherwise is a fragile ego. To hear Gilbert fans talk about him, his songwriting is on par with Kristofferson, and his style overrides Stapleton, Simpson, and Isbell combined. It’s incredible the contrast between what critics hear when the crack open a Brantley Gilbert CD, and what his fans perceive as the affirmations to their tough guy personalities are delivered in one super-awesome arena rock song after another. The reason Gilbert fans would follow him from hell to breakfast is because his songs make them feel like the kings of the world. There is no let up, no quarter given to the onslaught on your earholes and inner psyche by Gatling gun rock guitars screaming wildly over waves upon waves of bellicose, testosterone-pumped, carnal yawps about how totally cool and incredibly badass Brantley Gilbert and his compadres are. The Devil Don’t Sleep is the name of Brantley Gilbert’s latest record, and for 15 of the 16 tracks, Brantley doesn’t sleep either. He even has a song about this called “The Ones That Like Me”-a rare bout of self-awareness from Brantley. He’s a roided-out, tatted-up, tribal Tap-Out truck-nutted horn-flashing Jesus-praising great American meat head who makes no apologies for himself and has built an entire army of fans that are just as hard headed and proud, and will follow Brantley over a bridge if asked. The fact there’s a spirited opposition to Brantley just makes them dig in even more.īrantley Gilbert’s music may not be for you, but it’s hard to argue it’s not 100% him. Some listen, but those who count themselves among the ranks of Brantley Gilbert fans don’t even take it as a glancing blow. And now after those who rode the Bro-Country wave to stardom are left wondering what is next, and looking quite awkward as they try their hands at something more meaningful, Brantley Gilbert isn’t just doubling down, he’s puffing his chest out and digging deeper into the well of cliché and self-ingratiating affirmation than ever before, flipping the bird at detractors whose only opposition they can muster is to peck away at angry little blogs about how much he sucks. It is he who brought hick hop to the mainstream with his penning of Jason Aldean’s landmark country rap earworn, “Dirt Road Anthem.” It was he who was doing it all before it was commercially viable in the mainstream, and now, even with gray beginning to creep into his mane, he still is, and more unabashedly than ever.īrantley Gilbert is the Godfather of Bro-Country, the Master of Rural Machismo. It is he who perfected the checklist style of country songwriting before everyone else jumped on board. You almost have to give Brantley Gilbert some credit, however begrudgingly.
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