Fillingim, David. Macon, GA: Mercer University Press,
2003. Pp.
170, $18.00 (USD). ISBN: 0-86554-896-X (paper).
[1] In this intriguing monograph, David Fillingim analyzes various
aspects of country music as a form of theological reflection stemming
from a marginalized community, the Rednecks. His work is obviously
dependent on the work of James Cone and John Michael Spencer on
African American spirituals and the blues, especially the latter’s
emphasis on “theomusicology.” Fillingim puts forth
an interesting and accessible, if problematic, case for taking country
music seriously as not only a reflection of “the religious
imagination unfettered by the chains of doctrinal propriety” (3),
but also the hopeful engaging of ultimate concern(s) by the Redneck
community.
[2] Fillingim’s introduction (“Honky-Tonkology: Taking
Country Music Seriously”) sets out the parameters, and defines
the three major topics under discussion: theology, Rednecks, and
country music. He begins his discussion of theology by arguing
that “country music embodies certain basic beliefs about reality
or, to borrow Tillich’s often-used phrase, about matters of
ultimate concern” (6). Country music, he notes, is the “theological
self-expression of the hillbilly or Redneck,” defining Redneck
as the community historically represented as one that is marginalized
and oppressed within the larger Southern culture, and most often
represented by the sharecropping migrant farmer. Fillingim
traces the heterogeneous roots and history of country music, asserting
that even though “country music has never been completely
isolated from the mainstream,” it is “legitimately read
as the music of a people who have been separate from the
mainstream” (14). Fillingim concludes that his will
be a substantive analysis, focusing on the lyrics of country songs
and not on the functional aspect of the music.
[3] Fillingim begins his first chapter (“Gospel Songs and
Cheatin’ Songs: Suffering and the Failure of Redneck Theology”)
by asserting that the genres of white gospel and “cheatin’ songs” raise
the issues of theodicy (in the former) and moral meaning (in the
latter). He draws an analogy between these songs for Rednecks
and spirituals/blues for the black community, noting that they are
not only theological statements, but also declarations of liberation “because
they respond to experiences of oppression and marginalization” (26). In
his discussion of white Southern gospel, Fillingim notes that these
songs encourage passivity in the face of suffering, waiting “for
future rewards while trusting Jesus to calm one’s inner tensions
in the meantime” (30). These emphases betray a fundamental
dualism in white gospel between this world and the next, where this
world is not only evil, it is to be rejected in favor of the future
bliss of heaven. Fillingim notes that, in comparison to the
black spirituals, white gospel songs “have functioned to prevent
conscientization and liberative praxis” (31) by stressing
individualism over communalism and dualistic thinking over incarnational. His
discussion of “cheatin’ songs” focuses on the
mundane experience of romantic love which, according to Fillingim,
possess the same function for the Redneck community as the blues
do for the black community; they are “the music of an oppressed
people seeking to transcend but not ignore their experience” (36). Furthermore,
they both “reject otherworldly dualism in favor of bodily
acts of protest against the contradictions of life at the social
margins.” Fillingim concludes by pointing to the failure
of the theologies espoused in white gospel and cheatin’ songs. The
former, he claims, “function to reinforce the status quo through
an ideology of domesticity,” while the latter often adopt
a fatalistic outlook (40). Taken together, these songs focus
on escapism rather than engagement and they thus lose their liberative
potential. In the face of this failure, Fillingim issues a
call to Redneck theology to develop a perspective that refuses to
acknowledge either of the above extremes as viable options.
[4] Fillingim then moves on to the person many consider to
be the central figure in country music history: Hank Williams. After
discussing Williams’s turbulent life, career, and early death
at age twenty-nine, he builds on the work of Steve Goodson to discuss
what he feels is the “core moral/theological outlook of country
music” (44), namely, “Hillbilly Humanism.” He
notes, “This philosophy begins with a ‘Christian-based’ affirmation
of the dignity of persons,” which leads to the recognition
that a “person’s worth derives solely from his or her
humanness and is not augmented by improvements in socio-economic
status” (50).
[5] Fillingim then examines Williams’ gospel songs,
finding them to be quite pessimistic and closer to black rather
than white gospel in general. This pessimism, Fillingim argues,
is exemplified by “Hank’s strongest hope,” i.e., “baptismal
suicide” (55). Put another way, “Hank effectively
rejects the shallow and disembodied hope of the gospel of heaven
and seeks instead a way to affirm life in its embodied earthiness” (57). Even
so, Fillingim claims that Williams does not reject religion, but
instead maintains a protesting and pleading relationship with the
ultimate. He does not provide detail about what this base is nor
does he give any evidence to support it. In fact, he takes
pains to note that Hank was ambiguously religious. He concludes
this chapter with an examination of two main figures in country
music who serve as heirs to Williams’s rather bleak outlook:
George Jones and Merle Haggard.
[6] After a chapter analyzing the songs and influence of Garth
Brooks—undoubtedly the most successful country music artist
of the transitional 1990s—Fillingim begins his discussion
of women in country music by noting the seeming contradiction between
the concept of feminism and the traditionalism inherent in country
music. He pushes the connection, noting his task is “to
find country performances that criticize some aspect of women’s
oppression by construing it in relation to God or to that which
is of ultimate concern” (105). For Fillingim, female
country artists are valuable theologically because they focus on
the experience of oppressed or marginalized women, suggesting that “the
answers to ultimate questions—the meanings of life—are
to be found within the mundane experiences of women” (106). He
then examines three key female artists—Loretta Lynn, Tammy
Wynette, and Dolly Parton—then quickly mentions some of the
newer female artists before ending the chapter. These two
chapters on Brooks and women in country music seems to stretch the
connections to any sort of religious concept, especially in the
latter chapter, which comes off as more of a reading of feminist
concerns in country music, rather than anything having to do with
theology.
[7] Fillingim systematizes the results of his investigation
by organizing his conclusion into six interconnected themes—dignity,
fate, love, work, responsibility, and hope—which represent
the assumptions behind the theology he finds channeling out of Williams’s “Hillbilly
Humanism.” It is the last of the themes, hope, through
which Fillingim makes his most impassioned argument on behalf of
the function of country music. “Good country
songs,” he writes, “especially ‘pain songs’—have
the effect, ironically, of relieving pain. Setting one’s
pessimism to music becomes a kind of optimism. Country music
functions like the Psalms of lament, providing a framework for raising
or deepening misery and despair to the level of ultimate concern
and then releasing them” (155).
[8] Overall, this book serves as an intriguing, if uneven, foray
into country music as an expression of religiosity. However,
there are a number of problems and questions left unanswered. Aside
from a number of typographical and stylistic errors, Fillingim’s
definition of theology seems too broad to be useful as an analytic
tool. In addition, one must consider whether or not it is
still appropriate to view country music as the theological cries
of a marginalized community, given its current audience profile
and amalgam of influences. Fillingim contradicts himself when
he notes that a “pure grassroots redneck religion is hard
to find” (28), yet bases most of his book on the presupposition
that country represents the faith-wails of this community. If
we cannot be specific regarding the content of Redneck faith, how
can we say that country music represents it? Fillingim mentions
Texas singer-songwriters Guy Clark and Townes Van Zandt, but does
not examine their work in any detail. These two, their colleague
Eric Taylor, and the generation of singer-songwriters they influenced
(especially Lyle Lovett and Darden Smith) use explicitly religious
imagery and terms in their work. Perhaps a chapter on these
descendants of Redneck country (Taylor and Smith specifically) might
have proved illuminating as well. In sum, Fillingim’s
work has much to commend it and it certainly moves the discourse
forward, but unfortunately it is simply too uneven to recommend
wholeheartedly.
Dan W. Clanton, Jr.
University of Denver
danclantonjr@yahoo.com
