Beyoncé
Cowboy Carter
Parkwood/Columbia
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“It's a lot of talkin' goin' on while I sing my song,” she drawls in “Ameriican Requiem.” “Can you hear me?”
In order to hear Act II: Cowboy Carter, the second installment in a trilogy by Beyoncé Knowles-Carter, the first order of business is turning down the noise around it. As usual, the superstar comes with quite a din. Much of it began in 2016 with her appearance at the Country Music Awards accompanied by The Chicks (formerly known as Dixie Chicks).
Their performance of “Daddy Lessons” from Lemonade (2016) was a perfect anathema to country music purists drawing an uncharacteristically vicious backlash. On that stage, they represented staunch conservative abominations like the Black Lives Matter movement, anti-police sentiment, and criticism of President George W. Bush. Even without those political elements, the mere fact of being Black or female can put you at odds with this institution.
In the same way that hip-hop is not inherently violent or misogynistic, country music is not inherently racist and sexist. Still, the fact remains: those who are have enjoyed a safe harbor in country music where they can live and exist largely undisturbed. Then here comes Cowboy Carter…defiant, willfully disturbing.
Rather than a traditional country effort, Cowboy Carter is an intricate pastiche of Americana, roots music, contemporary soul and country that rides well on the wild fusions it lassoes in. The title pushes against the notion that Black people neither exist—nor belong—in country music, when in fact, the first cowboys were Black. She sets about righting this wrong by making space for herself, her antecedents, and successors.
Clearing her own way first, twin singles were turned loose February 11, 2024, confirming that the rumored country foray was indeed happening. “Texas Hold ‘Em” succeeds first, courting the boots-and-flannels contingent without alienating Beyoncé’s core fanbase. The pop-soul hoedown, with banjo work from Rhiannon Giddens, became the first #1 country single by a Black woman. Trading her trademark melismata for earnest lyrics and moving harmonies over steel guitar from Robert Randolph, “16 Carriages” lays further claim to a proud Texan lineage while lamenting her hard-fought path to the present day.
For she who rarely grants interviews, her candor on “Ameriican Requiem” is moving (“They used to say I spoke too country / Then the rejection came / Said I wasn’t country ‘nuff”). On this opener, Beyoncé brandishes her identity and culture like a gun. With few interjections more country than a “looka here,” she repeats and exaggerates the phrase until it becomes antagonistic, comedic, intentionally absurd.
Not only does she belong, but she brings friends along. Neophyte Black country songstresses Brittney Spencer, Tiera Kennedy, and Reyna Roberts stand on her shoulders for the Beatles remake “Blackbiird.” The day those twin singles bowed, Tanner Adell, whose country debut Buckle Bunny had only released the previous July, threw her hat in the ring for a collaboration prompting a parade of derision. Black women so are often trampled underfoot, but not this one, not this day, not this time. Though the album was complete and intended for release before Act I: Renaissance (2022), Beyoncé added Adell in a standout position closing “Blackbiird.”
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Following the Renaissance pattern, Cowboy Carter evokes many forebears to make its case: Patsy Cline (“Sweet ★ Honey ★ Buckiin’”); Tina Turner, Nancy Sinatra, and The Beach Boys (“Ya Ya”); Black guitar-wielding pioneers Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Son House, and Chuck Berry (“Smoke Hour”). As forebears go, the inclusion of Linda Martell is paramount; although the first Black woman to perform at the Grand Ole Opry in 1969, racist pushback stilled her career as she crossed from pop into country. She stands alongside rightful contemporaries Willie Nelson and Dolly Parton who lend their voices to spoken interludes throughout Cowboy Carter.
Parton endorses Beyoncé’s deft rewrite of “Jolene.” Where the original beseeches Jolene not to take Parton’s man “just because she can,” Beyoncé draws a weapon and advises the would-be temptress for her own safety, it’s best she not try (“Your peace depends on how you move, Jolene”). Given the themes of infidelity on Lemonade, this shrewd and rousing update may spur both old and new fans to stand and clap.
Defense recurs often as a theme on Cowboy Carter: defense of herself (“Daughter”), her children (“Protector”), and on one unexpected highlight, defense of her man. While I initially suspected it might reference the Parton-penned “I Will Always Love You” from the Whitney Houston-led film, Beyoncé’s “Bodyguard” is refreshingly different. Borrowing the vaguely country feel of early ‘80s Fleetwood Mac, she nearly lets her jealousy start a barroom brawl (“I don't like the way she's lookin' at you / Someone better hold me back / …I'm 'bout to lose it, turn around and John Wayne that ass”).
Clearly, it’s better to have Beyoncé as a friend than an enemy. She stands back-to-back with Miley Cyrus on “II Most Wanted,” and gets even cozier with Post Malone as her “Levii’s Jeans” so he can “hug that ass all night long.” While perhaps featuring Lil Nas X on “Spaghettii” and “Sweet ★ Honey ★ Buckiin’” might have inspired less questioning with its trap deviation, Virginia-via-Nigeria rapper Shaboozey is known for fusing country and hip-hop himself. As well, young country vocalist Willie Jones is centered on the perseverant, Gospel-adjacent “Just for Fun.”
In truth, this work is more generally Southern than specifically country, particularly on “Ya Ya,” a genre splice of punk and rockabilly ratchet as she welcomes you to the “rodeo chitlin circuit.” Gunsmoke wafts from the mournful “Daughter” that plays like the murderous closing theme of a spaghetti western, daring to include an Italian aria as its coda.
If Cowboy Carter has a failing, it’s that its 27 tracks start to overstay their welcome in the last 30 minutes—which is entirely appropriate. “This album […] was born out of an experience that I had years ago where I did not feel welcomed…and it was very clear that I wasn’t,” Beyoncé shared on Instagram. More than an album, Cowboy Carter is a sit-in; it plants itself, refusing to leave until it is acknowledged, dignified as human, and served as an equal.
Late writer and brilliant commentator Toni Morrison said, “The very serious function of racism is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language and you spend twenty years proving that you do.”
Beyoncé took five years crafting this masterful counterargument, but she only spends 78 minutes explaining. “I don't think this music is what everyone expects,” she offers in an official press release. “But it's the best music I've ever made.”
The work of solving racism is neither within the responsibility or capability of one record or recording artist. But for what it's worth, she had time today. Her distractors have attracted this attention, and frankly, the resultant art sounds great. I can push tush to it, they can gnash teeth to it, and we all can have the day we deserve.
Notable Tracks: “16 Carriages” | “Blackbiird” | “Bodyguard” | “Jolene”
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