Our country music critic says, "Joe West, you're outta here!"
First-base umpire Joe West winds up before throwing White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen out of Wednesday's game in the second inning at Progressive Field. Guillen was protesting West's call of a balk against White Sox starter Mark Buehrle, but he could have just as easily been protesting West's music. My country music connections are pretty dad-burn deep.
My mama used to sing on the radio with Jimmy Dean long before he knew what breakfast sausage looked like. I have a tattered black-and-white picture of two impish-looking babies. On the back, in the elegant penmanship of pre-Prohibition schoolmarms, are two names: "Charles Arnett" -- my dad -- and "George Jones."
Beyond that, I've been reporting on country music for The Plain Dealer for about 20 years. I guess I've covered hundreds of concerts and reviewed thousands of albums. I've made a little money playing drums in country bands, even.
As a musician, I know just how hard this stuff is. So I've tried and usually been able to find some redeeming characteristic in every artist and his or her work. With the possible exception of Shania Twain, of course, who never met a key she couldn't miss.
I even covered a 1995 Billy Ray Cyrus concert here and found something good to say about both Billy Ray and his opening act, a TV talk show host named Jerry Springer.
At the time, I thought Springer's set may have been the worst attempt at country music I've ever heard. Jerry, who's become a friend over the years -- I even did a stint as a bouncer on his TV show for my On the Job Training series -- later admitted the same; he was able to laugh at himself, unlike Shania.
I have now heard the man who makes Jerry Springer sound like a redneck Placido Domingo, and Shania Twain as angelic as if someone had stuck a microphone in downtown Heaven:
Umpire Joe West.
Joe West's 'Blue Cowboy.'Listening to the first excerpt of his "Blue Cowboy" (listen to excerpts) made me balk -- you'll pardon the expression -- at listening to the second. But I did. And the third. And so on. And now?
Well, if I'm Nashville, I run West outta the game. The Hook. The Heave-Ho. The Thumb.
It's supposed to be western music, not really country, and that's OK. Good western music is as relaxing as a campfire under a starlit sky. Think something along the lines of Riders in the Sky or even Roy Rogers and Gene Autry. The problem is that in addition to carrying their riders, Roy's horse Trigger and Gene's Champion were probably better at carrying a tune than West.
The title cut, "Blue Cowboy," has the clippity-clop tempo of the typical western song, but West's vocals sadly also sound like horseshoes scraping along a rutted road.
"You Can't Run with the Big Dogs" mixes every inspirational clich and creates a few more: "You can't tighten that lug nut if you don't have the bolt." A better use for the lug wrench would be shattering this CD.
That's how I see it. Now? Now I guess I just sit back and wait for my fine.
Right after I take a plumber's snake to my ears.