The Battle of Troy

(2 of 3)

Still, country is a universe in which even the tiniest deviation from tradition is chewed over obsessively and often spit out. Unlike rock fans, most of whom are attracted to the music's fusion of styles, a large number of country fans take it upon themselves to enforce a vague (and deluded) notion of genre purity. Acts that other listeners take for granted as part of the twangy firmament, from Willie Nelson to Shania Twain, are often disparaged for their perceived experimental perversions--not enough fiddle, too much navel--with a prim cruelty that would not be out of place in an Edith Wharton novel. "One of the subjects of debate on our message boards is always, 'Is it country?'" says Calvin Gilbert, managing editor of cmt.com the online extension of Country Music Television (CMT). "With Troy, it seems like it's the only subject of debate."

Cowboy Troy's first single, I Play Chicken with the Train, which features Big & Rich, was not designed to put traditionalists at ease. On first listen, it's almost comically dissonant; a grimy lead guitar fights for control with a banjo as Troy's deep, rat-a-tat-tat delivery flies by. But it does grow on you and soon finds a stomping middle ground between the Sugarhill Gang and Charlie Daniels. In the online-opinion maelstrom, about 50% of people seem to enjoy their first exposure to hick-hop; the rest can safely be described as horrified. "Can't spell rap without crap" and "NOT COUNTRY ... A SICK DISGRACE" are common threads, with even moderate dissenters saying that while they may like country and rap separately, they would prefer they stay that way. Some call on CMT to stop playing the video. "Rapboy Troy is not CMT. He's MTV and BET. Plain and simple."

cmt.com closely monitors postings about Cowboy Troy, and the few so far that have used racial epithets have been swiftly removed. Even so, antebellum echoes are not uncommon: "He is just polluting this awesome genre. This is such an abomination"; "A discrace [sic] to humanity [is] Troy on stage and the white girls down front dancing for him." Those who say the debate about segregation vs. integration is strictly musical usually point to Charley Pride, a genuine black superstar who had 29 No. 1 country hits from 1966 to 1989. But when Pride made his debut, his label didn't send out publicity photos or put him on album covers, and while many black artists have since given country a shot (see box), the absence of another significant black face between Pride's retirement and Cowboy Troy's start suggests that some listeners, at least, care as much about who they see as what they hear. "There are outrageous Aryan attitudes in a healthy minority of listeners," says John Rich. "It's K.K.K. b_______, and at some point, you just can't believe it's still out there. But you've got to confront it."