Oberlin

Most music these days lacks courage. Songwriters labor to cover up genuine, simple emotions with stimulating poetry, all as a part of their ridiculous struggle to "say something new." One single niche within the genre of indie folk resists this temptation. It's what I like to call "Lone Man and His Guitar" music. Take Bryan John Appleby, for instance: most musicians would shy away from rhyming "night" with "light" because they're terrified of being called predicable. But I say there's nothing like a good cliché to ensure that your audience really is on your same page, sees you eye-to-eye, and gets you crystal clear.

Another performer bravely battling societal expectations is Conor Oberst. The purest joy a man can feel comes from his organic, raw experiences with nature --yet rustic raptures are often scoffed at by the general public! Oberst proves that he is wiser than that. When listening to the undiluted lyrics "What a thing to be a witness to the sunshine / what a dream to just be walking on the ground," you simply cannot help but drop whatever you are doing and dash outside to prance across this beautiful, blessed earth of ours.

In order to experience the glory of The Lone Man and His Guitar music, you must know where to seek it. Don't fret: it's actually quite easy to find. The performers of its less worthy ancestor--folk music from the 60s--were more contained in insular communities. Even if there had been a Bob Dylan on every block, you wouldn't have known it, because the average man's music couldn't be shared easily and instantly until the digital age. In the 90s, however, folk experienced a revival that lead to the subgenre of indie folk, and then -- oh, how fortuitous! -- to Lone Man and His Guitar music.

One of the best parts about this music is its ubiquity. You get to hear it at every juncture of your day: on your alarm clock radio as you wake, from your aspiring-musician adolescent neighbor through the wall as you brush your teeth, from street performers on the sidewalk as you walk to work, from your co-worker's laptop across the cubicle, at the open-mic night in the local coffee shop where you stop to grab a drink on your way home. It's nice to be constantly reminded to appreciate sunshine--it's easy to forget, especially in a fluorescent-lit office! To be sure that you recognize these musicians immediately, keep in mind that they will be white men (the most representative humans -- how usefully relatable!), likely with facial hair.

Instrumentally, this style of music is characterized almost solely by -- you guessed it! -- guitar. And let me tell you, never once have I wished for the crude insertion of another instrument. I am the first to advocate against layered compositions. Any genre works on guitar; in fact, I wouldn't say no to a world in which it was the sole instrument in existence! Imagine a rendition of Beethoven's Fifth, arranged for solo guitar. Thrilling, right? Or better yet, Ravel's Boléro performed by an orchestra of thirty-five acoustic guitars! I applaud these Lone Men for realizing the unique potential of the guitar to transcend what is, to any other instrument, a finite tonal spectrum that can be limiting in solo pieces.

I'm also very grateful that the chords used in this genre so frequently follow tactful I-IV-V progressions (with the occasional minor VI thrown in, for the perfect amount of uneventful variation!). The melodies never jar you, but rather soothe, sounding comfortingly like something else you heard on the radio last week. On the "About" section of his website, Lone Man Brent Holloman explains how he has worked to "strip...music back to its essentials," to find "simple melodies" and a "minimal sound that felt like home." Yes, Brent, I cherish the moments I get to spend at your melodic hearth. They are the only times in life I feel I need not worry about keeping up with tiresome complexity. In fact, whenever you come out with a new song, I find I can already sing along!

I took the liberty of conducting a lyrical analysis of the three most popular songs on iTunes by each of four artists that I feel exemplify this music: The Tallest Man on Earth, Ben Howard, and my favorites from earlier, Conor Oberst and Bryan John Appleby. As I worked, it became clear that these musicians have gotten together and collaborated, perhaps made a "best practices" list of lyrics that are most effective for achieving their wholesome sound.

The most common words to come up were "love" (3 mentions, not including phrases repeated word-for-word), "birds" (3 mentions), "hair" (3); "eyes" (4), "dark"/"darkness" (4), "night" (5), "sun" (5), "wind" (5),  "heart" (5), "road" (5), "water"/"ocean"/"river" (7), and various kinds of flowers/"garden" (7). How wonderful that one never has to worry about being molested by an unexpected phrase while listening to a song from this genre. My favorite of the Lone Man's lyrical tactics is the ambiguous nature metaphor. I don't quite understand what Bryan John Appleby means when he sings "Knowing you / you will not dig a hole in me / and you will not chop down my tree / or hold me under the water," but regardless, I can sense that it's deeply meaningful.

Perhaps the single best part of listening to this music is knowing that, were I simply a white man (with facial hair), I could easily participate myself! No need to find other musicians to construct a whole ensemble. No need to learn more than two strumming patterns and one picking pattern on the guitar I can borrow from my aspiring-musician adolescent neighbor. No need to even work to write original lyrics, now that I've uncovered that handy "best practices" guide! It's too bad that I'm female -- I suppose I'll just have to stick to my gender's equivalent, the singer-songwriter genre. Or maybe instead, I can pick up a nice, sensitive Lone Man to write some songs for me about how my eyes are like watery roads that pierce his heart when we walk together in sunny gardens.