CMT-ed Off
A little background: the CMT Awards were held on Belmont's campus this year. That should suffice.
"The CMTs were frustrating. I had to give up my parking spot to Toby Keith, the student center to Tim McGraw, and the cafeteria to Carrie Underwood. I made a t-shirt commenting on Belmont’s increasing fascination with publicity opportunities. I speculated with a number of friends about what exactly the student body was getting out of all this.
In the end, however, I wasn’t really all that inconvenienced. Since I live on campus, it wasn’t too hard to plan ahead and avoid having to drive anywhere the day of the event. The cookout that was set up as the alternative to the caf was well-implemented. There was even a nice little two-foot wide alley for us students to walk through if we needed to pass by the soccer field on the way to our classes. This assumed, of course, that we didn’t touch any of those long black RVs or make eye contact with the security people. In the end, my major qualm was the fact that, regardless of how great an experience it might have been for certain music business majors or Belmont’s country music diehards, the student body was never really approached about the whole thing. Warned? Sure. Beseeched? Not quite. I’m reminded of the times in elementary school when I would wander to a friend’s house without telling my parents. Once they tracked me down, my mom would adamantly remind me to ask before I acted next time. No, I may not be Dr. Fisher’s mother, but I wouldn’t mind the consideration.
I did some soul searching in the wake of the CMTs to make sure my initial frustration wasn’t only with the nature of the occasion. I can’t stand country music. To save myself from getting lynched next time I walk across campus, I will admit that certain acts such as Johnny Cash and Lyle Lovett receive exemptions from my general distaste for the genre. Until a couple years ago, I at least found some relief in the humility and humanity that I associated with country musicians. Since my arrival in Music City, acts like Big & Rich have thoroughly done away with that consolation. Self-glorification and sexuality have melded with country music remarkably easily.
They’re celebrities, though, so plenty of us will still stare in awe and nod our heads eagerly every time they breathe. And while I’m extremely tempted to punch the next cowboy I see every time I hear a Big & Rich song, there’s a chance I would react to an on-campus Rush concert just as ridiculously as much of Belmont reacted to the CMTs. No matter how nonchalant we try to sound when we talk about seeing Keith Urban at the Circle K, there’s something in us that wants to believe that anyone who makes music, movies, or books we like must have some sort of equivalent personal merit. The cult of celebrity in this country is strong enough that some star-struck high school senior will probably come to college here because we hosted the CMTs. And to be truthful, most all of us have our weakness, whether it’s an actor, an athlete, or a theologian. Gender distinctions aside, our propensity to dream like adolescent schoolgirls far outlasts our adolescence.
Maybe someday we’ll come to the realization that a good friend is far more exceptional than the vast majority of the people featured on the cover of Entertainment Weekly or Rolling Stone. Until then, it should come as no surprise when America’s educational institutions marginalize students for the sake of rolling out the red carpet."
"The CMTs were frustrating. I had to give up my parking spot to Toby Keith, the student center to Tim McGraw, and the cafeteria to Carrie Underwood. I made a t-shirt commenting on Belmont’s increasing fascination with publicity opportunities. I speculated with a number of friends about what exactly the student body was getting out of all this.
In the end, however, I wasn’t really all that inconvenienced. Since I live on campus, it wasn’t too hard to plan ahead and avoid having to drive anywhere the day of the event. The cookout that was set up as the alternative to the caf was well-implemented. There was even a nice little two-foot wide alley for us students to walk through if we needed to pass by the soccer field on the way to our classes. This assumed, of course, that we didn’t touch any of those long black RVs or make eye contact with the security people. In the end, my major qualm was the fact that, regardless of how great an experience it might have been for certain music business majors or Belmont’s country music diehards, the student body was never really approached about the whole thing. Warned? Sure. Beseeched? Not quite. I’m reminded of the times in elementary school when I would wander to a friend’s house without telling my parents. Once they tracked me down, my mom would adamantly remind me to ask before I acted next time. No, I may not be Dr. Fisher’s mother, but I wouldn’t mind the consideration.
I did some soul searching in the wake of the CMTs to make sure my initial frustration wasn’t only with the nature of the occasion. I can’t stand country music. To save myself from getting lynched next time I walk across campus, I will admit that certain acts such as Johnny Cash and Lyle Lovett receive exemptions from my general distaste for the genre. Until a couple years ago, I at least found some relief in the humility and humanity that I associated with country musicians. Since my arrival in Music City, acts like Big & Rich have thoroughly done away with that consolation. Self-glorification and sexuality have melded with country music remarkably easily.
They’re celebrities, though, so plenty of us will still stare in awe and nod our heads eagerly every time they breathe. And while I’m extremely tempted to punch the next cowboy I see every time I hear a Big & Rich song, there’s a chance I would react to an on-campus Rush concert just as ridiculously as much of Belmont reacted to the CMTs. No matter how nonchalant we try to sound when we talk about seeing Keith Urban at the Circle K, there’s something in us that wants to believe that anyone who makes music, movies, or books we like must have some sort of equivalent personal merit. The cult of celebrity in this country is strong enough that some star-struck high school senior will probably come to college here because we hosted the CMTs. And to be truthful, most all of us have our weakness, whether it’s an actor, an athlete, or a theologian. Gender distinctions aside, our propensity to dream like adolescent schoolgirls far outlasts our adolescence.
Maybe someday we’ll come to the realization that a good friend is far more exceptional than the vast majority of the people featured on the cover of Entertainment Weekly or Rolling Stone. Until then, it should come as no surprise when America’s educational institutions marginalize students for the sake of rolling out the red carpet."