Is America Out of Its Flop Era?
for your consideration!
Whenever an American discovers that I am Canadian, be it by me proactively providing this detail or when they ask me the loaded question – “Where are you from?” – I typically receive the same response, regardless of what coast I’m on.
“I tell people I’m Canadian when I travel,” is what they always say. And when they say this, I don’t know whether to smile or cringe. Smile because I know they mean it as a compliment – and no matter how indirect the compliment, I’ll take it – or cringe because, well, you simply can’t sit with us and, more importantly, I believe there’s still immense cultural capital in being perceived as American.
I have always been fascinated by the brand of America. The way a nation, more acutely than others, can become a commodity, rich with symbols and artifacts that archive a persona, a history, a collective dream. Sure, Canada has maple syrup and a hot-ish Prime Minister who occasionally does blackface. Italy has spaghetti alle vongole and the Pope (kinda). Jamaica has Vybz Kartel and weed! But America has always been the most effective marketer of its exports, storytelling a mix of fact and fiction to construct its lore. It’s a celebrity that calls the paparazzi on itself. To me, this self-mythologization has always been something to be proud of, something to envy in tandem with the country’s glaring shortcomings like systemic racism and using Farhernheit like a widdle bitch.
With the announcement of Kamala Harris replacing Joe Biden on the ballot and the positive response to her selection of Tim Walz as a running mate, there has been a noticeable injection of American pride in the culture. I think our skepticism, willed by a global pandemic, years of war, and economic collapse has barred us from ever reaching the Buzzfeed-Listicle-Lady-Gaga-Wearing-The-Meat-Dress-To-The-VMAs-Obama-era levels of optimism and that’s probably a good thing. But I sense that America might be coming out of its flop era. Maybe it’s time for my friends to stop pretending to be Canadian while travelling.
To credit the Democratic National Committee with this turning point would be ludicrous as, really, there have been signs all along. The year began with some of the largest musicians on the planet – Beyoncé, Lana Del Rey, and Kacey Musgraves – announcing the release of country albums. COWBOY CARTER in particular, catalyzed by the bipartisan anthem of ‘TEXAS HOLD ‘EM,’ platformed vital conversations on who owns country music and, with it, who owns America, fertilizing deep-seated connections between Americans and America.
We’ve all witnessed the meteoric rise of Chappell Roan, a proud Missouri-bred pop star. Public desire for her debut album, aptly titled The Rise and Fall of The Midwest Princess, builds in tandem with the American optimism resurgence, both fueling the phenomenon (or ‘Femininomenom’) and benefiting from it. Even the Harris-Walz merch has taken inspiration.
But before Chappell Roan, there was Ethel Cain. Cain’s Southern Gothic debut, Preacher’s Daughter, narrates the triumph and plight of a young woman who ventures across the American West from Florida. It’s as American as a Flannery O’Connor short story, an inspiration of Cain’s. When the album’s breakout hit, ‘American Teenager,’ made Barack Obama’s Favorite Music of 2022 roundup, she responded with a dry honesty:
“Did not have a former president including my anti-war, anti-patriotism fake pop song on his end-of-year list on my 2022 bingo.”
What’s most interesting about the platforming of America be it in Beyoncé’s music, Chappell Roan’s, or Ethel Cain’s is the omission of New York and California, two contenders for MVP with respect to American cultural exports. Thankfully, these musicians fill out the rest of the map. Beyoncé’s latest album opens with ‘AMERICAN REQUIEM,’ declaring her southern roots with an authoritative swagger:
Looka there, liquor in my hand
The grandbaby of a moonshine man
Gadsden, Alabama
Got folk down Gavelston, rooted in Louisiana
When I travel, I notice how folks from New York and L.A. are quick to tell you that they are from those particular cities rather than America the country, as if their habitation of a coastal city protects them from the perceived stain of America. And maybe it does. But what is worth remarking on is the pride in the current mainstream from other regions of America, regions that have not been historically ‘blue.’
Ethel Cain’s version of Florida looks different than Taylor Swift's and Florence Welch’s ‘Florida!!!’ And Swift and Welch’s Florida is definitely different than the Miami-centric vision presented on Camila Cabello’s latest album C,XOXO. Listen, this is a partisan issue so I’ll be open about where I stand: I believe the album is fantastic. Cabello’s hazy meditation on girlhood positioned against the backdrop of Miami offers a carefree escapism that runs parallel to optimism. The album highlight, ‘Dade County Dreaming,’ clutching to potentially the last City Girls feature ever, documents the wonders of an open America, joyriding through sprawling Miami streets with imagery of shakin’ ass and big cars. You know, American things.
Shakin’ ass. Big cars. Hot dogs. Levi jeans. Football. Coca Cola. Divorce. Julia Roberts. Fireworks. Jesus. Budweiser. Jazz. And guns. Guns. Guns. Guns.
About a month ago, I confessed to some friends over dinner that I had a strange impulse to visit a gun range and learn to shoot. I made a very bad joke that a pistol would be cute in my LOOSEY tote bag and moved on without thinking much of it. The dinner was bland but the company was good. Weeks later, a different friend of mine admitted that on a company retreat, he was taken to a gun range for team bonding (he works in finance). He spoke to me with great animation of how it felt to hold a gun for the first time, the terror and power that came with it, and, despite how thrilling it was, he most certainly won’t do it again. This was a meek attempt at American cosplay for the two of us, both immigrants. An aesthetic posture rather than a genuine interest. But it appears we weren’t the only ones with this impulse. I have become a recent subscriber to Emily Sundberg’s business newsletter Feed Me. A few weeks ago, she noted that it was going to be a hot-girls-with-guns summer:
The only thing more American than apple pie is a gun. Perhaps this observation adds to the uptake in Americanness we are all experiencing and the platforming of refreshed American ideals and aesthetics.1
When I first started LOOSEY, I referenced Rihanna – a fellow Bajan citizen – for her deployment of loosies throughout her music career.
A loosey of hers that is not as well known is ‘American Oxygen.’ The song was released in 2015, at the height of the Obama era. When I first heard it, I still lived in Canada. Frankly, it didn’t resonate. I was against my father’s national treasure creating a song about her pride for another country.
Inspired by Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Born in the U.S.A.’, the song details America’s most marketed export: The American Dream. Only the thrust of the dream is more enticing, more rose-coloured, through the eyes of the immigrant narrator. When presented with a demo of the song, Rihanna worked to adjust the verses to nod to her origin story, codifying her in the American brand:
This is the American Dream
Young girl, hustlin' on the other side of the ocean
You can be anything at all in America, America
America is a country everyone, including Rihanna, wants to try on. Now maybe even Americans. Maybe in a few years when I travel, I will try saying “I’m American” and see what happens. Or maybe, just like many of my takes, that idea will age poorly. Time will tell.
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This goes without saying but this is not an endorsement for the N.R.A. I can’t even spell ‘N.R.A.’
not so much sold on the hot girls with guns rebrand (feels "contrarian" and male gaze-y) but looking forward to Tim Walz doubling down on his "responsible gun owner" brand
I haven’t read the piece yet but my instinctive response was “Nah, America is still a loser!” 🤣