One of my anti-folk favorites:
ETA: For those who haven’t heard this one: Beck decides to write a song about downhome, heartland country and the people that are its salt-of-the-earth. And it’s fucking savage. Below is the closing stanza; the three before it are just as biting. Almost.
Well Jane was born in a small town
Everybody just standing around
They had bingo games and a raffle
Everybody chewing tobacco
Well, she grew up kind of restless
All her boyfriends wanted to be dentists
’Til she got a job at the truck stop
And she got old fast and never did what she want
She’s only a person
Who doesn’t know shit
Nothing happening
That’s about it
