I have found a very moving force in the world, in my life. And for the first time ever, I feel the need to convert others to my way of thinking, to reverse the often-innate repulsion of country music that most of you probably hold and convince you to take a chance on the Dixie Chicks.
For those totally in the dark, I should explain that the Dixie Chicks are a huge country music sensation. Their two amazing albums, "Wide Open Spaces" and "Fly," have made this adorable Texan trio (sisters Martie and Emily, and lead singer Natalie, of course) giant stars and heroes to many.
But the Dixie Chicks have become much more than a music phenomenon. The joy in their music has become almost a religion: the best thing around for the soul and the spirit.
For me, it began during freshman fall, when I was thrust into sharing a room with a Georgian. The other girls in my hall and I ostracized our southern peer; we complained excessively about her music's terrible twangy wails, steal guitars and banjos. But my roommate stood strong and played her favorite CD, "Wide Open Spaces," every single afternoon.
And I remember the day it happened. I remember actually saying, "Hey Allison, why don't you play that one song with that one line that I always laugh at? I've had it stuck in my head all night, so it might help to get it out." What a pathetic cover for my newfound love.
Really, I had gotten those Chicks in my head, permanently. Their perfect, insightful words about needing "Wide open spaces, room to make [our] big mistakes" along with heart-wrenching ballads in which "nights are long and dreams are cold" had become a part of my life.
At home for winter break, I stopped pretending. I stood up to my country-hating family and friends and bought the CD. And I haven't been able to put it down since. What can I say? That's what Dixie magic does to a person. Certainly, by the end of freshman year, the majority of our hall had been taken, possessed by the best band in the whole wide world.
Of course, the Dixie Chicks are pretty much everywhere now, always on country radio and plastered all over billboards with milk mustaches. Their CD "Fly" is now a huge hit, prompting their current headlining tour.
Less than two weeks ago, I made the great Dixie Chick pilgrimage with a couple of friends to Radio City Music Hall to see the band live. Though we drove the ten hours to New York and back in just one night, I think it was indeed the best day of my life (and always will be, unless, of course, a "Cowboy take[s] me away").
My Dixie friends and I, seated happily in the third row and wearing cowboy hats, sang every word to every song. We were experiencing a piece of heaven on earth, as our country goddesses sang, fiddled and danced for two hours that night.
So that's my story, my journey from empty darkness to spiritual fulfillment. But telling it's the easy part. More difficult is explaining exactly what is so wonderful, why the Dixie Chicks surpass all else. But I must try. I must persuade at least one too-cynical, too-sophisticated or just too-ignorant person to give the Chicks a try; it's my mission.
First and foremost, their songs are so wonderful and catchy, and not one bad track pollutes their albums. And though fun and trendy, Martie, Emily and Natalie are truly great musicians and songwriters.
They're also just so cute and fun. They don't take themselves seriously, which means they still play and record songs for fun, even if not automatic money-makers. They even gave a slide-show at their concert, making fun of each other's high school prom photos. Come on, you have to love them.
The Dixie Chicks make those cold July days and dark, lonely nights happy. Their songs invite dancing, even from the stiffest, most self-conscious listeners (I include myself in this group, proof that the prophetic "Some Days You Gotta Dance" indeed applies to all). Even when wallowing in the worst heartache, the Chicks create smiles.
I know I'm neglecting so many things. The list of Dixie Chick amazements goes on forever -- just ask any fan (and there certainly are quite a few at Dartmouth). We can talk for hours.
But I must move on. For in order to gain your trust, so that you take my advice and please listen to the Chicks if you haven't yet, I must admit that Dixie Chickism is not faultless, at least not in my experience.
My extreme love and obsession, though the best thing for my soul, is not necessarily the best for my mind. This summer, for example, I really have not been able to talk or think about anything other than the pilgrimage to Radio City.
Thus, I can't concentrate on work or show any moderate intelligence or academic promise. (I even used a Dixie Chicks song lyric on a midterm last week -- not good.) Because of the Chicks, I fear I'm even more of an idiot around all of you brilliant academics than usual.
Plus, it can be hard to maintain such strong faith in something like this. I mean, they're a pop-country group " there's nothing worse. But oh, my friends, there's nothing better, nothing better than the Dixie Chicks.
