I Miss the Different Regional Cultures of America

- 3 minutes read - 449 words

As a child, growing up between Louisiana and Houston, I remember listening to the radio with my parents, and the DJs would often pepper their bits with this critical fact about the music we’d just heard: where they were from.

Boston’s own, Cars here with “Drive”
The sweetheart of Tennessee, Dolly Parton
More of that sound from Seattle with Nirvana

You just know in your heart that Journey were from San Francisco and ZZ Top from Houston. It was no surprise, either, to learn that Blondie was different, that she was from New York. Actually they were from New York. That urbane, icy cool of the Cars made you dream of a far-off place called Boston. Could the Go-Gos have come from anywhere but LA? Juice Newton, Kim Carnes, Kenny Rogers, Reba McEntire—each was recognizably from somewhere, but they were all like me, or like us, American.

But now music is made somewhere in Studio City, where half a dozen suits get together over macrobiotic, calorie-aware lunches to hash out kinder-Lolita-themed lyrics. It’s all the same and it’s regressed the beauty of my country’s artistic expression back to a dull, gray average.

To be clear, I’m sure Sabrina Carpenter is a lovely woman. And in this world, no shame on her being about getting her bag. Therefore I’ll be speaking of her commodified personality-as-product as “Sabrina Carpenter.”

As Rick Beato points out on his YouTube channel, the idea that “Sabrina Carpenter” is pushing the boundaries of propriety in her lyrics or album covers is ridiculous. Her hit songs are produced by a factory. Sure, she gets a writing credit too, but her songs are as mass-manufactured as Lunchables boxes.

I miss when the glorious regions of my country could show their unique character while still being recognizable as fellow Americans. “Sabrina Carpenter” doesn’t feel like she’s one of us; they could have just as well given it to a Bahamian chanteuse or an especially pliant Swede. Where’s the uniqueness of her accent from Pennsylvania whence she hails?

In an era of so much division, I have to wonder if part of the problem is that the small doses of regional pride were boiled out of the system, and we’ve all been reduced to California-churned gray goo. Heck, I looked at a recent map of my alma mater and noticed that California’s pride burger stand, In-N-Out, is now on the University of Texas drag. Whither the classic university eateries: Player’s Burgers, Pluckers Chicken, Conan’s Pizza…St. Elmo’s Fire?

First music, then television, and now eateries. From sea to shining sea it’ll be the same rinse-wash-repeat of CVS, Kohl’s, Target, In-N-Out, Carl’s Jr., McDonald’s, repeat.

We have lost something very, very dear.