The Wake

As academics and intellectuals, we tend to devote our time and studies to examining the subconscious meanings of our actions. Why does she wear tight jeans and green shoes? Why does he gel his hair into a faux-hawk every morning? What does your Members Only jacket say about your outlook on life? We spend so much time analyzing and getting lost in the maze of the subliminal that we fail to note the obvious.

For example, what does wearing a shirt with the Confederate flag on it say about you? Does it mean that you support the confederacy and, thus, the institution of slavery? Does it mean you support a system that devalued humans for 200 years and defined their existence in terms of paltry sums of money? Does it mean that you support dispassionate, fiscally-driven genocide?

What do the letters on the shirt mean? What does “LYNYRD SKYNYRD” spelled out in big, silver, gothic, garish, stenciled lettering say about you? You present yourself to others through your clothes, so what does that shirt say about how you view your ideal self? Do you wish to be a lanky “dude” whose prime has long past, his orange belly shirt revealing a beer-fueled paunch that jiggles ever so slightly as he thumps his hand on his ’72 Chevy (too old to be hot; too new to be classic) and bobs his head in a stiff-necked display of arrhythmic awkwardness?

Now, I’m not saying that if you listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd you’re a hick. I’m not saying that if you listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd you’re stupid. I’m not saying that you’re racist, dated or déclassé. I’m just saying that if you listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd you want to be all of those things. Here’s why:

Lynyrd Skynyrd are a perfect encapsulation of everything that is bad about the South for three reasons (annotated using Sonic Youth Alphanumeric code):
a) They suck.
b) They Suck.
z) They’re easily offended.

All the proof I need is right in their most ubiquitous song, “Sweet Home Alabama.” The song itself was written in response to a great Neil Young song (“Southern Man”) that had a great message: the South is fucked up. Of course their idea of a response was to write a song that called out Young for “puttin’ down” the South and talked up “the governor,” aka Gov. George Wallace, a segregationist. Yeah, around here, we call that a “proof,” not a response.

Of course I haven’t even gotten to the music. Luckily my feelings about Skynyrd’s brand of crap-rock can be perfectly summed up by Isaac Brock (lead singer of Modest Mouse) “Life is just too fucking short to play or hear ‘Free Bird.’” For context, this was spoken by a man whose songs average a length of seven minutes and whose first three albums are all CD-filling 70-minute behemoths.

Yet he still has the authority to make that comment because Lynyrd Skynyrd are unique in that they are completely and irrefutably generic. Every “hot lick” or “bluesy jam” that these bastards ever put out is not only exactly like every other one, but each also sounds as quality as the crappy recordings that your little brother’s blues band puts out between soccer practice and TRL. To be honest, I can’t even be offended by this stuff anymore because it just fades into the walls and disappears whenever I try to put it on. Unfortunately, the sheer length of these nightmares turns that fading into more of a grinding. If you’re not tearing your hair out by the eighth minute of “Freebird,” you’re obviously a tin-eared asshole, and I can say that without any guilt or qualifiers. The fact that their biggest song is used in a chicken commercial and the name of a romantic comedy pretty much seals it for me: by this Kentucky Fried Chicken commercial, I hereby proclaim Lynyrd Skynyrd’s artistic legacy is as dead as their lead singer.

So why are people still listening to it? Honestly, I have no idea. Asking me why people listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd is like asking a Windham Hill artist/fan (the only person who listens to that crap is the same type that makes it) the merits of post-hardcore. The fact that people still listen to, enjoy and buy t-shirts branded by these Alabama cavemen makes me feel like I live in a Kafka-esque world-gone-mad. But then again so does buying a sandwich from Gopher Express. And watching the news. And waking up in the morning.

Realistically though, I can’t force my tastes on other people. Reading this article isn’t going to make you think that Lynyrd Skynyrd sucks if you don’t already think that they’re a terrible band with an awkward name that is really hard to type over and over. What I do believe I can do, however, is alert you to what you are silently communicating about yourself to others. When you walk into a room with a shirt that has the Confederate flag and “LYNYRD SKYNYRD” superimposed on it, you are saying a lot of things.

Don’t get me wrong here: I’m not saying that if you listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd, you’re a chicken-fried loser. I’m not saying that if you listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd you’re an idiot. I’m not saying that you’re bigoted, out of touch or completely devoid of taste. I’m just saying that if you listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd you want to be all of those things. Furthermore, when you wear their name on your chest, you shout that loud and clear to the audient void.

And, hey, it’s a free country and you can be whatever you want to be. That said, you might want to take this as a wake-up call. As a friend, I’m really only looking out for your best interest. Hey, don’t get offended. I’m not saying, I’m just saying…