I have never met a guy who goes by Bubba without a trace of irony. Apparently, the name never made it to the big cities with any of the popularity that it enjoys in the more rural parts of the country. This means that the Bubba that I have the most familiarity with is the eminently colorful protagonist of the Mark Chesnutt ditty, Bubba Shot the Jukebox.
I was first introduced to Bubba a few summers ago. I was a counselor in a camp, and we were on the road on a trip. To the chagrin of most of the Gen Z campers, both counselors were fans of classic country. I had just caught the classic country bug about half a year beforehand and was all in on the 90s scene. Alan Jackson was, and still is, my guy. I was slowly chomping my way through his discography at the time and my co-counselor shared similar taste. He leaned more outlaw than 90s, but we found plenty of common ground. Well, common among us. The campers, having been raised on a steady diet of top 40 Pop and Hip-Hop for most of their lives had a harder time adjusting. I’m proud to say that by the end of the summer, they all knew to chime in when Alan leaned into “It’s Five o’clock somewhere and to belt out a God Bless Texas right after the bass drum kick in the chorus of God Blessed Texas. They never did get the oom-bapa-oom of The Oak Ridge Boys famous Elvira, but I guess we cannot win them all. Bubba Shot the Jukebox was on the playlist that trip and that is the first time I heard the song I call The Ballad of Bubba. It is a song whose depth is surprising and every time I hear the song, I marvel at both the simplicity and how it simultaneously touches on the depths of the human experience.
Poor Bubba is that guy you just cannot help having sympathy for. We all know what rough times can be like and sometimes people react in odd ways. Bubba has tears rolling down his nose. He is clearly experiencing a moment of severe emotion. We have discussed the idea in previous posts that often songs connect to specific moments in time. Well, unfortunately for the owner of the anonymous Honky Tonk Jukebox, the exact wrong song came on at precisely the wrong time.
Let me paint the picture for you. Bubba came to the bar with the intent to relax and forget about his sorrows. He gets comfortable in his chair and has a few drinks. As the troubles and anxieties of his troubled life start to fade away, he is faced with the exact thing he tried to run away from. Maybe the song brought memories back of an old flame who tragically broke his heart many years ago, or perhaps the mournful tune extracted feelings about his dearly departed mother. We do not know the specifics because the song declines us those details. Such information is a breach of privacy into the heart and mind of Bubba. The narrator of the song instead provides a description of the events matter of factly, inviting us to draw our own conclusions. Like a TV broadcaster, he quotes the emotionally charged words, “He said it played a sad song that made him cry”. Simple sounding words to be sure, but the emitting of such words from a prototypical, red-blooded masculine ideal as Bubba, a man who carries a loaded gun in his, I presume, pickup truck, is quite telling. This is a man who is dealing with an unexpected emotional trauma that was induced by the playing of a triggering piece of music. The male psyche does not like emotion. It especially does not do well with grasping and processing trauma. Bubba is a simple man. He is straight to the point. The jukebox was playing a sad song that made him cry so he went to his truck and got a ‘45. A simple man with a simple solution to his dilemma.
But as the song goes on to show in the classic style of country music of yore, the straightforward approach Bubba took to deal with the induced trauma from the jukebox is insufficient. In attempting to assuage the crying of his soul, he commits a crime. The sheriff arrives in his bathrobe to arrest him and through this, a lesson is bequeathed to the listener about the value of those universal virtues learned by the hearth. Patience and thinking before acting.
How these values, surely instilled into Bubba from a young age deserted him is dissected in the final verse of the song.
Well, he could not tell right from wrong/ Through the teardrops in his eyes/ Beyond a shadow of a doubt/ It was a justifiable homicide.
This speaks to the deep sorrow within and the tremendous effects it can have on an individual’s psyche. In a moment of anguished passion, the reasoning abilities of the human mind are unreliable. To the mind of Bubba, the simplest solution to alleviating his emotional pain, engaging in an illegal act of reckless firearm discharge and destruction of private property, was entirely justifiable. This is the underlying terror behind the simple tale of Bubba.
Chesnutt’s straightforward country style delivery is especially appreciated here. Country music has never really been the home of the most talented vocalist. Unlike many of the other musical genres, the emphasis is not on vocal histrionics. As in the folk traditions of long-ago balladeers, the objective is to use song to tell over a tale. The clear pronunciation of consonants, especially noticeable in the treatment of the letter R, the presence of identifiable accents, the more nasally pronunciations of older country, and the grumblier vocals of today’s country are all rooted in a natural way of talking. It is meant to be an easily digestible way of hearing the message. Chesnutt knocks it out of the park. Three chords and the truth. The song taps into the complex emotional moods and psychological concepts that make up man. Pain, sorrow, desperation, denial and so much more. The terror of the darkness is revealed, and the lesson is taught in a compelling and unforgettable narrative. The Ballad of Bubba is a worthy successor in the long line of country songs that tap deep into the heart of humanity.
Joe
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