Los Angeles – “Nothing ever really ends / For things to stay the same they have to change again,” Beyoncé sings on “Act ll: Cowboy Carter”, the opening lines of the opening track “American Requiem”. Are.
“Those big ideas, yes, buried right here / Amen.”
In some ways, it’s a mission statement for the epic 78-minute, 27-track release – or at the very least, acts like the title card of a movie meant to introduce another blockbuster album.
In the days leading up to “Cowboy Carter”, the pop superstar had said that it was “not a country album” but “a ‘Beyoncé’ album” – positioning herself as a protest against the rigid power structures of country music and her Style with their latest genre-defying creation emphasizing the ability to work together.
This isn’t a capital-C Country album – and it certainly isn’t. Beyoncé is a libretto, known for her flexible vocal performance: at one moment, choosing to belt out something close to godliness and, at another moment, moving with marked ease in a fractured rendition of the notes she emphasizes. Inheriting history through the handcrafts and styles it uses.
If the album, which took five years to produce, was inspired by the racist backlash he faced after performing at the 2016 CMAs with the Chicks, as many fans have theorized, he’s embraced And then some. Tell Beyoncé she’s not welcome at your place; She will build a big one.
“American Requiem” turns into a reimagining of the Beatles’ classic “Blackbird”. It was originally written by Paul McCartney about segregation in American schools, with a particular emphasis on the Little Rock Nine, the first group of black students to desegregate a white public school in 1957. In Beyoncé’s rendition, harmony is achieved. He is also joined by Tanner Adele. Brittany Spencer, Reyna Roberts, and Tierra Kennedy – some of the most exciting voices in contemporary country – who are also black women.
They’re not the only Next Generation light on “Cowboy Carter”: Willie Jones’ rich Louisiana tones turn “Just for Fun” into a gospel country ride. Shaboozie’s country-rap on “Spaghetti” marks a pivot in the album’s trajectory, preparing the listener for the singular listening experience of the Pasty Cline-channeling “Sweet Honey Buckin'” with Jersey club beats.
Country stalwarts also appear: Willie Nelson is a rough-and-tumble radio DJ on the fictional station KNTRY – the resulting effect is an alternate America where terrestrial country radio prefers not to play white artists; Excerpts from Sister Rosetta Tharpe’s “Down by the River Side”, Chuck Berry’s “Maybellene” and Roy Hamilton’s 1957 “Don’t Let Go” fit into Nelson’s smoky voice.
The ’50s cut is an inspired choice; Beyoncé chose to reference the decade in which format-based radio emerged and, as a result, country music’s racial lines became nearly codified. Its impact is still being felt. An oft-referenced study conducted by Jada Watson, associate professor at the University of Ottawa, examined more than 11,000 songs played on country radio from 2002 to 2020 and found that artists of color accounted for only three percent of all airplays , two-thirds of whom were men. Even in her hiatus, Beyoncé has taken her listeners to school.
“Jolene” is a reimagined take on the 1973 Dolly Parton original; It is preceded by “Dolly P”, a line spoken by Parton. “Do you remember that charming lady with the nice hair you sang about?” she says, referencing “Becky with the good hair” from her single “Sorry” from 2016’s “Lemonade.” “Reminds me of someone I used to know, except he had burning gray hair. Bless his heart! Just a different color hair, but it hurts exactly the same.” Beyoncé’s version is, of course, very Beyoncé – there’s no hesitation or begging for this woman to move; This is a warning.
Perhaps Beyoncé’s most obvious predecessor on this album is Linda Martel, the first black woman to play the Grand Ole Opry. Martel’s landmark 1970 record “Color Me Country” should be considered country canon; She provided rare visibility for black women within the stereotypes associated with whiteness.
She also appears twice in “Cowboy Carter”, first providing clarity on the country’s complex origins in “Spaghetti”.
“Genres are a weird little concept, aren’t they?” she says laughing. “Theoretically, they have a simple definition that is easy to understand. But in practice, some people may feel limited.”
Shared history and family abound in Beyoncé’s “Cowboy Carter”: “Protector” begins with Beyoncé’s daughter Rumi Carter asking for “Lullaby, please,” which turns into a tear-jerker of an acoustic ballad focused on motherhood. She goes.
If listeners place “Act L: Cowboy Carter” next to “Act L: Renaissance”, they can see the record as a continuing dialogue into the Beyoncé mythos: “Lemonade” demonstrated Beyoncé’s dedication to Black empowerment. Established. “Renaissance” reclaimed house music for its black ancestors, a massive release that put techno, Chicago and Detroit house, New Orleans bounce, Afrobeats, queer dance culture and beyond on the same dancefloor – and that black performance. highlighted the persistent invisibility of. Music History Books. “Cowboy Carter” does something similar with country music – and, in true Beyoncé fashion, goes far beyond that as the ship, captain and crew on this voyage.
“Bodyguard” ranges on soft rock; “Yeah Yeah” combines Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Were Made for Walkin'” and The Beach Boys’ “Good Vibrations”; “Riverdance” and “II Hands II Heaven” bring back the electronica of “Renaissance”. “Will Most Wanted”, features the raspy-rich Miley Cyrus, and interpolates Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide”. “Levi’s Jeans” modernizes the timeless combination of R&B and country ballads, enhanced by a surprise collaboration featuring Post Malone crooning – lest we forget he’s also from Texas.
“Oh Louisiana” is helium-injected blues and funk; On “Daughter” Beyoncé sings the famous Italian aria “Caro mio Ben” in the original language over classic guitar. If you’ve been waiting for her opera moment, it’s here.
When she switches back to English, she declares, “If you cross me, I’m just like my father / I’m cooler than the water on the Titanic,” reminiscent of outlaw country’s murder lyrics. “Daddy Lessons” is the successor to Dixie and Bey’s first country song, “Lemonade”.
Effortlessly – and momentarily – “Cowboy Carter” weaves together canonical classics similar to Beyoncé’s evolution of country music and preservation of black music history. If the Beatles and the Beach Boys are impeccable, so is Martel, so is Beyoncé, and so is Adele, and so on.
Of course, the magic here is Beyoncé’s mastery of art and message. And at the center of everything is her larger-than-life performance — serious and gleeful, like when she clicks her nails to the beat, an ode to Parton doing the same on “9 to 5.”
On “Cowboy Carter,” historical course-correction — and evolution — goes down with honey. Lessons are learned on the dance floor, on the radio, at the imaginary honky-tonk, in the headphones.
This is a massive album that will require close scrutiny to fully enjoy – but Beyoncé fans have long learned to be great students.
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