I’m sure Brantley was patting himself on the back for figuring out how to work “wake and bake” into the lyrics. That’s basically what you get with “The Weekend”-monster übercliches delivered in Brantley Gilbert’s signature mush mouth with a banjo thrown on top of the mess to make it “country.” Then get some Joe Satriani-sounding asshole to come in and play a wank off guitar solo, cut the second verse off halfway so you don’t scare the crowd by making them think too much, and run through the chorus three more times before making it in at a radio friendly three minutes. “Yes, girls in bikinis, tailgates, jacked up trucks, summertime, moonlight, check check and check. Writing this shit is so easy, you can do it with the phone pressed against your cheek, tying your shoe, scratching your ass, while waiting in the drive-thru line at a Krystal. It’s like when Jason Aldean recorded a tribute to Joe Diffie but had never met the dude, or even sent him a text message. Talk about synergy and collaboration, that shows you the type of heart these two brought to this paint-by-the-numbers, festering, steaming pile of audio animal refuse. He wrote the song with some guy named Andrew DeRoberts over the phone, and Brantley admits he’s never even met the dude in person. The lyrics for “The Weekend” were phoned in by Brantley Gilbert, literally. “But Trig, Brantley has some good songs!” Yeah from when? Fucking 2007? Every Brantley Gilbert single has sounded exactly the same for the entirety of his career. I thought the mainstream was over this and everyone was acting like Justin Timberlake now, but I guess we can’t be surprised if Brantley Gilbert reveals himself as a one trick pony stuck in a rut. We need a weekend from Brantley Gilbert’s douchebag attitude and this residue of Bro-Country that won’t let go of country music’s hoof like a determined lump of cow shit. All truly comprehending the awfulness of “The Weekend” will do is anger the blood. They can’t be any worse than the original ones, trust me. Just go ahead and make up your own rhymes to this tune on the fly. He’s too laid back and ragingly awesome in his own eyes to even sound out his freaking words.Īctually on second thought, after pulling up a lyric sheet on this audio turd, it’s probably best if the lyrics remain virtually indecipherable. Brantley’s about the best case I’ve ever seen for someone’s self-absorbed, too-cool-for-school attitude translating into a debilitating speech impediment. Can someone start up a Go Fund Me campaign to help Brantley Gilbert surgically remove the marbles out of his damn mouth? By golly I can’t understand a word this dude says.
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