Nashville News Blog

Kellie Pickler does not meet the Washington Post's approval; she is likely weeping as we speak

Whenever a significant event occurs in flyover country, the East Coast Media Elite (TM) descends to inform the learned back home of the quaint ways of [INSERT NAME OF PRIMITIVE BURG]. Denver famously took a beating from the New York press during the Democratic Convention, referred to as a cow town with grain silos for skyscrapers, etc., etc.

But the Washington Post has been a bit more delicate with its reporting on tonight's CMA extravaganza. Writer J. Freedom du Lac -- whose parents were either hippies or he was named after a fishing village in northern Maine -- is only mildly dismissive of the Music City:

NASHVILLE - The first voice I heard upon arriving at the airport here yesterday was Kellie Pickler's.

The "American Idol" dingbat was singing "Don't You Know You're Beautiful" on a video screen at the CMT store, right around the corner from the guitar-themed Gibson Cafe and across the concourse from a display of Marty Stuart's black-and-white portraits of a bunch of old-time country stars, including Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner.

If you didn't know better, you might be inclined to think that the entire city of Nashville is a country-music souvenir shop/theme park. Only half of it is that way.

But that's about as bad as it gets. Like most music critics, he gushes over the old guys -- George Jones -- and laments new country. But he does seem to have a weird fetish about our airport, saying this about Jimmy Wayne:

As far as I know, he's the only Nashville star who can quote Fat Boys lyrics and talk about the joys of fat laces. That makes him alright in my book, even if his biggest hit sounds like something you'd hear in the waiting room at a dentist's office. Or, I guess, on your way through Nashville International Airport.

Yet Mr. J. Hippie Fishing Village ends up revealing more about himself than Nashville, noting that he's what we in the hinterlands refer to as a Huge Friggin' Pussy. Get a load of this:

The more interesting sighting there, though, was Miranda Lambert, in town from Texas for awards-show week. I was invited to a surprise birthday party for her but skipped it, even though I'm totally in the tank for her music, as the party was being held at a totally grungy, smoke-filled bar whose descriptions made it sound a lot like a redneck version of Jaxx. Didn't want to have to steam-clean the stench off later.

A music critic who's worried about his dry cleaning bills? The world is about to implode in 5, 4, 3...