Those of you who read this blog…and may be reading this blog in the future having got to know me through my business Foyster’s Communications, or just being my mate, you will know that I am a very positive person…so why did I choose a not so positive name for this blog?


Well, essentially, it’s all about perceptions isn’t it.  


As I grew up, my parents subjected my sister and I to 4KQ Country Music on the radio, all….the….time.  


As a consequence of my parent’s above average parenting choices (cough, choke hack) I developed a very profound dislike of country music.  


You see, I had the positive gene way back then because I just could not get passed the twangy, miserable, I’m going to go and slit my throat and bleed out over the back of the boat because that is the most morbid music I could ever be forced to listen to.  


I was a child of the 70’s and 80’s.  I liked Count Down and Smash Hits and Rage.  


Why did my parents have to behave like they’ve just stepped out of the 1930’s; did they think it was in my best interest to listen to that music, that Duran Duran, Big Pig and the Eurythmics were bad influences? 


Did I need those kinds of country music lessons at that age?  


I fanged to get to the weekly skating session so we could scream around the rink to Ballroom Blitz….”and the man at the back said everyone attack, and it turned into a ballroom blitz….” vroooooooommmmmmmm.


What’s the biggest and most saddest consequence of what I was made to listen to? I know almost all the words to Convoy….”so we smashed the gate doin’ 98, and I said let them truckers roll – 10-4″.  


Holy crap! 


It came on the radio the other day when they did the big truck thingo down the Toowoomba range and I sang it, with Twang-y Amerry-i-can accent to my boys.  They looked at me like I’d hit my head on something sharp and was having a ‘moment’….half smiling, half puzzled.  


The eldest whispering to the youngest, “I think she’s mucking around.”


Another outcome, I always wondered if my Grand-mawr had a feather bed.  Can’t remember, because Life on the farm was kinda laid back.  Sigh.

When I married my beautiful life partner, I knew he was the single biggest fan of John Mellencamp, his music taste was ‘safe’, until we went on a road trip and he brought his Garth Brooks CD with us.  


I knew a couple of his songs and they for me were more country rock, so I enjoyed them.  
They were the first and second songs on the CD and then came the “I’m going to slit my wrist because I cheated on my wife, I got too many dogs for the size o’ my porch, my best friends makin a move on my neighbour’s wyffffee.”  


I had to ask him to stop the CD and put my Ross Wilson Best of Mondo Rock CD on just to get me out of the funk I had been cast into with just two songs and we were on holidays! 


Country Music has one of the largest followings on the planet….because I guess so many people resonate with the trew lyfe stories they sing about.  Me, I just like music if it makes me feel good, with a good beat….Dixie Chicks for example – coolest Country band going and I really like Keith Urban…he’s cool, he doesn’t wear a hat everywhere and no one wears leather wrist bands like he does.  Their songs, or the ones I listen to at any rate, are upbeat – some have poignant messages and are ballady, but they are something I can think about and make a conscious decision.  


My lovey will sometimes put CMT on to try and prove a point that not all country music is the sad sack sheeeit that I so abhore, but he fails, every time.  


See….see….what’d I tell ya, she’s sad because she got flicked by her childhood sweetheart;


See…see…what’d I tell ya, she fell for the wrong bloke and now he loves her mother instead; 


See…see….what’d I tell ya, the road was full o’ potholes and he split his crank shaft, now he’s gotta buy a nu one….


So when people ask me why I hate country music, I just say ….which is just my perception…..all the songs are about crap things, you know like “My hawrse dyed and ai gotta get a nu waaan”.  


It is a metaphor for life….things die (or stop), but something good will always come of it. 


10-4 big buddy.