GCML COLUMN - "ROADGOING RADIO"

c. 2006 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(8-06)




Note to Readers: The following story began on Route 322, somewhere west of Meadville, Pennsylvania. The station mentioned here is WYBL 98.3 FM in Ashtabula, which operates as ‘THE BULL.’ It is owned by media giant Clear Channel.



We were driving home after a weekend getaway by the Ohio River. Our conversation had literally continued across hundreds of miles. Green hills spread wide before us, against the azure horizon. Then, the land flattened into a familiar profile. We were almost back to Geauga! This closeness to home seemed peacefully satisfying. It quieted our banter over quirky loved ones. With lazy whispers, we watched the sun slip into oblivion. It had been a satisfying detour from everyday responsibilities.
Liz, my road partner, typically enjoyed napping while I handled driving duty. But on this occasion, she remained alert. We chattered a few minutes more about the differences between Gallipolis, and the Cleveland area. Then, a pause for fresh coffee blurred our focus. As we sipped the C-Store version of Dark Espresso Roast, our thoughts began to go hazy. I pointed her car west, and rejoined the traffic that was headed toward familiar ground.
Suddenly, she switched on the radio. A brief FM scan tuned the receiver to a local country music station. And our calm was shattered, immediately:

“There’s a million different types of girls,
All around the world,
And they’re all so beautiful,
No one knows any better than me,
‘Cause I stare so constantly

But I think I met my match,
Last night at the club,
She was sippin’ on a Bud,
Hangin’ with the friends,
On a Friday night

A five-foot-something Cherry Bomb,
She had everything goin’ on,
The first thing that caught my eye –

She was rockin’ the beer gut,
Well it’s just some extra love,
Around her waist

Rockin’ the beer gut,
She’s more than hot,
She’s everything

With the blue jeans,
A little tight around her butt,
She’s rockin’ the beer gut!”

Liz was speechless. She went numb to the barrage of commercials that followed.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t stop laughing. “Hey, there you go! More quality entertainment, yes sir-ee. Yee Haw!”
She glowed hot red. “That song is disgusting!”
I was reinvigorated by the thought of a musical debate. “Come on, that’s no worse than ‘Honky Tonk Badonkadonk’ or some other such foot-stomping classic!”
Fire grew in her eyes. “Don’t make fun of Trace Adkins, R-r-r-rodney!”
“No problem,” I agreed. “Just give up some love for… THE TRAILER CHOIR! Sheeeeee’s rockin’ the beeeeeer gut!”
Liz hissed like a cat. “Stop it!”
“This is really confusing,” I said. “You typically get excited about Earl Fred Foddertoss, or Wilma Jean Homespun. And any kind of ‘pop’ country tune strikes your fancy. Right?”
She folded her arms. “You’re such a poo! But, yes.”
“Yet this song offends you?” I asked, emphatically.
“It isn’t funny,” she replied.
There was a moment of disbelief. “It sounds like a slice of rural American culture to me… like a County Fair, a hot dog cook-off, or a Tractor Pull. I think it’s a riot! I’d even say it’s… A HOOT!”
Her reaction came quickly. “Who wants to sing about having a beer belly? Yuck!!!!”
“Hey, the song is being played with Shania Twain and Faith Hill,” I said. “Guess somebody at the station thinks it is cool! They’re ALL rockin’ the beer gut!”
“Rodney!” she screeched. “That’s enough!”
I was on a roll. “I’ll bet their tour is sponsored by Dodge Trucks. Maybe Jeff Foxworthy will introduce them to everybody…”
Liz snorted. “Stop speaking in stereotypes!”
“I’m talking backwoods pride here!” My courage was boiling over. “Better yet, Larry the Cable Guy could promote them, on behalf of Blue Ribbon Beer… GIT ‘ER DONE!!!”
She kicked the floorboards. “RODNEYYYYYYYY!!”
Our radio warbled Merle Haggard’s ‘The Fightin’ Side Of Me.’ I reckoned that it was an omen of sorts. Further discussion of ‘Beer Gut’ was likely to cause an unpleasant, on-the-road incident. So we finished our trip without another word about the song.

* * * * *

LATER, a bit of research revealed that ‘The Trailer Choir’ was a band based in Nashville, Tennessee, but grown from local roots. I learned that they were “Three boys, just trying to make momma proud.” The band includes:
Marc "Butter" Fortney- “Vocals, bestubiousness (check choir site for definition), songwriting and acoustic guitar genius!” He is a native of Ashtabula.
Gary "G-ray" Somers- “Amazingly talented with lead vocals and everyone knows he's otherwise known as Jimi Hendrix on the Fiddle!”
Vencent ‘Vinny’ Vanzant Hickerson- “Vocals, The BEST GUY EVER, dance extrodinaire with moves you never knew were possible, amazing singer/songwriter/entertainer.”
Details came from installments of their ‘Trailer Mailer’ that were posted on MySpace. I read with interest that the CBS Online program ‘Survivor LIVE’ was using one of their tunes as a theme song. Also mentioned were their efforts on behalf of Crohn’s Disease research. But most surprising was a quote from the very station that had introduced us to their music, WYBL! Program Director Roger McCoy offered a resounding personal endorsement for TC’s music:

“I have been completely blown away by the response to the song (She’s) ‘Rockin’ The Beer Gut’ and the response it has generated in the North East Ohio and North Western Pennsylvania markets. We first introduced the song… on the air, with our Clashing Country program that allows our listeners to vote both online and via the phone. For five straight weeks, The Trailer Choir blew everyone else out of the water (which included several major label acts). This earned (She’s) ‘Rockin’ The Beer Gut’ a regular spot in our regular country music rotation. For the record, out of twelve years in radio, I have never seen an independent group’s song inspire such a response…It doesn't matter if you're old school country or the next generation - it is hard to stop the urge to sing along with the energy and song(s) put out by the Trailer Choir.”

Also posted was a list of ‘TrailerGating’ spots, where the band has been appearing at the U. S. Smokeless Tobacco tent during NASCAR Nextel races. The itinerary read like an honor roll of tire-shredding venues, such as Talladega, Bristol, Chicagoland, Darlington, Indianapolis, and Daytona. With a special trailer set up for visiting fans, the group promised much grub and conversation!
Enthusiastically, I shared the collected information with Liz. We commiserated over coffee at Mark’s Maple Leaf Restaurant, in Chardon. She was mildly amused by my detective work. But her opinion of the song was unchanged. “It’s just gross. They sing that she’s not ashamed of her big tummy. Gahhh! That it sooooo tacky!”
I smiled. “Come on, Miss Haybale. You always say I am too judgmental about modern country music. Well, this bunch takes me back to the authenticity of David Allan Coe or Johnny Paycheck. So think it over… who needs to open their mind now?”
She wrinkled her nose. “You’re a poo!!”
“Anyway,” I said cheerfully. “There’s a ‘Trailer Choir’ French T-shirt on the Internet. I ordered one for you.”
Her coffee cup just missed my right ear. I rolled out of my chair, and fell on the floor, laughing. “Just a joke, crazy girl! It was just a joke…”
The manager on duty asked us to leave after that. But I felt satisfied. While driving home, I made a mental note to contact the TC guys, directly. I would express my gratitude for their composition. And, ask them to send a publicity photo to a certain friend from Geauga County!

FROM THE GEAUGA COUNTY MAPLE LEAF, CLEVELAND AREA, OHIO