Rating: 4/5 stars

The marketing for Beyoncé’s (“Renaissance”) second act in her three-part gimmick, despite her cautionary Instagram post claiming otherwise, promised that she would snatch country music into her pantheon of genres. “Snatch” may not be the best word; Beyoncé notably dabbled with country on her 2016 single “Daddy Lessons” off her Internet-breaking surprise album “Lemonade.” But just as her performance at the Country Music Association Awards with the Chicks sparked controversy among country fans, Beyoncé’s announcement of “Cowboy Carter” reignited that flame. 

Some fans argued that her forays into country represent Hollywood pop stars intruding into country music, a genre whose fans traditionally judge its artists based on their authenticity—their street cred, if you will, given that street is Fatherland Street in Nashville—bordering on what may as well be cultural appropriation. Others are more blunt: they do not like “the Yee-Haw Agenda,” the appropriation, or rather re-appropriation, of Old American West aesthetics by Black artists.

But Beyoncé should not be scolded for releasing this album. Not only because, as a Texan, country music is a part of her past; not only because country music originated with Black musicians; not only because she has the right to explore any music she pleases.

No, Beyoncé is safe because “Cowboy Carter” is barely a country album to begin with.

Do not let the artwork’s rodeo regalia fool you. “Cowboy Carter” is only a country album if you read the title. The album flies all over the place musically, from folk to gospel to zydeco to R&B to rock to “Renaissance”-adjacent house to somehow even opera. This is not to say there is no country. The lead single “TEXAS HOLD ‘EM” is the most country song the album offers. But looking at “Cowboy Carter” accurately means ignoring the promise of country, which the album paradoxically refuses to do.

The shadow of “Renaissance” looms over “Cowboy Carter,” down to the “II”s in the track titles alluding to the album being the second act of the trilogy. “Cowboy Carter”’s “AMERIICAN REQUIEM” compares to “Renaissance”’s “I’M THAT GIRL” as equally bombastic but in different directions. While “I’M THAT GIRL” works off of a beat featuring a sample going “Please, motherf*ckers ain’t stopping me,” “AMERIICAN REQUIEM” lends the listener a hand. They both allude to religion, the latter begging, “Cleanse me of my sins/My un-American life,” the former declaring, “I am the one to cleanse me of my father’s sins.”

If the track serves as the album’s thesis as much as “I’M THAT GIRL” did for “Renaissance,” then Beyoncé intends to reclaim country music for its Black ancestors. “They used to say I spoke, ‘too country,’” she sings, “And the rejection came, said I wasn’t, ‘country enough.”

If only the album was country, instead of the occasionally twangy folk rock. Every time Beyoncé inches near the genre, it seems to fit a different genre much better. “BODYGUARD” borders on country but is effectively an imaginary Fleetwood Mac song. The closest “BLACKBIIRD” gets to country is the acoustic guitar that only exists since the instrumental is literally the Beatles track copy-and-pasted into the album. “YA YA” is closer to rockabilly; “DAUGHTER” is opera; “TYRANT” and “SPAGHETTI” may as well be “Renaissance” outtakes. The name of the latter track itself is confusing: Spaghetti Westerns are such because they are films that are indisputably Westerns despite being Italian. Does Beyoncé really expect country fans to latch on to an album that cannot decide if it really wants to be country?

The album struggles to be honest over what it is trying to be. Whether this matters is another question. “THE LINDA MARTELL SHOW” recognizes this genre-swirling, tongue in cheek, effectively being an interlude of Linda Martell announcing the following track “YA YA” as “a unique listening experience” that “stretches across a range of genres.” OK…”YA YA” is a fun, pouncing track, but the whole point behind “Cowboy Carter” was that it was not supposed to be incohesive, that it was supposed to be Beyoncé delving into a country project, just as “Renaissance” was a house project.

But when Beyoncé does go country, she struts into the parlor and knocks everyone’s boots off their feet. The menacing chord switch-up in the chorus of “ALLIGATOR TEARS”—”Something about those tears of yours/How does it feel to be adored?”—is more menacing to the Other Woman than her cover of “Jolene” will ever be. “16 CARRIAGES” 

Oddly, while “Renaissance” suits Beyoncé’s style of electro-pop R&B, in “Cowboy Carter” Beyoncé seems more at home. Learning that Beyoncé is a country fan may be surprising, but the lyricism, tender but in no way modest, is heartfelt. As amazing as “Renaissance” was, it is easier to believe Beyoncé grew up going to Texas rodeos than that she “works past five and is off by nine,” or that she has enough street cred to utter, “Then I uzi that doozie, shot shot shot,” both of which she sings on “Renaissance.” But that is the album to shout to, while “Cowboy Carter” is the album to sing to.

Luke Bryan has a song, “What Makes You Country,” in response to discourse within the country fandom about “what is and what ain’t country.” Bryan does not appear on the album—in fact, no artists from what anyone would call “modern country” are anywhere to be found on the album. Rather, the country music representation comes from its unchallengeable legends: Dolly Parton, Willie Nelson and Martell. But Bryan’s approval of Beyoncé being on the country charts does so much to challenge “Cowboy Carter”’s point of being country than anything Beyoncé can post about this being just “a Beyoncé album.” Listen to Bryan’s music. It is the prime example of modern country; country music has evolved to become unrecognizable from its ancestors. “Going country” can mean as little as wearing a cowboy hat and plucking a guitar. 

For Beyoncé, “going country” is a political statement, and a much needed one in a country music environment that is uncomfortable with centering Black artists. But did Beyoncé win against the naysayers? Yes. The album rules—expect it to sweep the Grammys. But in the end, did she really go country? The real question is, what does that actually mean in 2024? “Cowboy Carter” shows that even Beyoncé herself seems to not know the answer.

Image from Beyoncé via Spotify