By JJT (written for ThinkChristian.net)

While Paisley deals in beer cans and bro parties, Stapleton offers a sip of something true.

“I woke up still not dead again, today.”

So jokes one of the last living treasures of classic Americana music, Willie Nelson, on his latest album, God’s Problem Child. His wry promise (“Still Not Dead”), framed in perfectly understated and traditional Texas country sounds, assures the listener that—despite Internet rumors to the contrary—the Red Headed Stranger is not dead yet. I just saw Nelson a few weeks ago, actually, as the brightest star in a tribute performance of the songs of his good friend, Merle Haggard. He sang a gospel song with Keith Richards, but that’s a whole other story.

Hearing this excellent collection of new recordings from Nelson, however, reminds me that it’s not only Willie whose days may be numbered. Country radio has never sounded less “country” than it does right now. Hearing Nelson, 84, deliver such a soulful, clear-eyed set of songs reminds me of the way my brothers and I would mark our height on a doorjamb in the garage. In this case, Willie’s line is right up there next to those for Haggard, Johnny Cash, and Waylon Jennings. Compared to this group, most current country artists are knee-high and shrinking.

Enter Brad Paisley and his latest release, Love and War. I’m a fan of Paisley’s first few albums and there is no denying his blazing speed on a Telecaster, but this sprawling, 15-song collection of predictable, super-clean, cliché-laden songs sounds like a Disneyland ride after listening to God’s Problem Child. It lacks the most critical ingredient in Americana music: resonance. Like great blues and gospel, the resonance of the best country music comes from shared struggles and transcendent hope. Love and War, for the most part, lacks both.

Paisley’s most spiritual number, the syrupy ballad “The Devil Is Alive and Well,” is a near miss. In it the artist laments “some of the worst things” that are done “in God’s name”—including television news, Internet hate, and other vaguely bad stuff—as proof that a conveniently externalized and personified “devil” is alive and well. The answer to all the evil is a kind of nondescript “love,” because “God is love.” It sounds nice, but rings hollow. It seems that he wants to kick at the hypocrisy of the contemporary “Christian right,” but he never quite does. He plays it safe, and that’s another missed opportunity. Paisley also continues to pepper his songs with celebrations of good-time substance abuse, soft-core sexism, light-hearted sexual sleaze, and UFC, so maybe he knows his soapbox is a somewhat rickety perch.

I remember when Paisley was celebrated as a champion of traditional country, back when his songs documented what sounded like real-life experiences, characters, and emotions. Unfortunately, Love and War, though not completely devoid of quality, is so full of predictable tropes and cheap gags that its real value is as a clinic for aspiring shredders or people looking for slogans for gas station T-shirts. It left me frustrated. If Brad Paisley can’t capture an authentic and satisfying country sound, what hope is there? Are we doomed to beer cans and bro parties when what we hunger for is a satisfying sip of something true?

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