We Don't Need No Magisterium: (Jason's Version) (But Actually, We Do)

When Taylor Swift first arrived with her hit, "Tim McGraw," I heard her on the radio describing why she gave Tim McGraw (in Single-Man Envy Land we call him "Mr. Faith Hill") such a shout-out, and she said something like, "For people my age, Tim McGraw is a legend." I laughed at that, no disrespect to Tim. His highs are really high; I love the guy; he knows himself, and knows his audience. I always thought that what I'd heard of his albums (most of them) was a bit inconsistent. This dude is a singles artist to me, and that's not a slur. But then I thought about it, the phrase, "knows himself, and knows his audience." Maybe that's what a music legend is: he or she understands what he/she brings to the table, and doesn't do anything contrary to those shared musical experiences. This is my favorite Tim McGraw song. [Geez, you're haunted by ghosts.--ed.] Very likely. But seriously, the reason I love this tune is that it explains why I love R&B and country in the same song. Tim has sung approvingly of bending genres before, and even accomplished it a time or two. Perhaps my other favorite is this one. It's so packed with metaphors and similes that you say, "Hmmm, I gotta think about that one." [Every song you like is about women.--ed.] Hey, any idiot who's ever written a song will tell you: love songs are the easiest to write. [Noone says that but you.--ed.] OK. The reason I mention all this is that I woke up with "She's My Kind Of Rain" in my head. I don't know why. Next thought: "What a bloody great song." Thought After That: "Why didn't I write that?" [Because you don't play any instruments, and can barely carry a tune.--ed.] I don't sing that bad. There are worse with record contracts, I reckon.