In response to Cyrus’s injunction to “Ask Bryan” what the hell “Rhinestone Cowboy” would have to do with our overview to a course on New York lit, I’ll offer this link, which takes you to a version of what I said this morning in my part of our opening lecture. The bit on “Rhinestone Cowboy” comes at the end, and I’d just add here what one of our students mentioned after class: that Campbell’s persona isn’t even a Rhinestone Cowboy, at least not yet: he’s just feeling like one, which is even a little sadder than the song was already.
In other news of the fl
But what I don’t understand is why those writing/singing about New York always place themselves in the context of someone who hasn’t “made it” yet. Is it because they’re trying to key in on the general identity of the everyday New Yorker – someone who’s constantly trying to make it, rise above their station in life, etc. – and playing a “character,” or is it because New York has that effect on people – that you’ve never quite made it?
Also, couldn’t the song also be perceived as a bit of a jab/some sort of criticism of New York/the city’s lifestyle and pace? Rhinestones are cheap, shiny and easily fall off cell phones (sorry, that’s a tacky cultural reference), so isn’t becoming a rhinestone cowboy like attaining some sort of substandard fame?
As for part 1, I think the answer would be because of the city’s long-standing position as where you go to make it. Sure, there’s a tradition of narratives of the already-wealthy — fantasy lives held up for everyone else to envy or belittle for their immorality (Gossip Girl might be a good recent example). But the more dominant tradition would be “if you can make it there …”
Part 2 — maybe a jab, I suppose. There’s certainly something sadsack about the song, and it is about disillusionment or what you lose along the way while you’re trying to make it. And being wistful for letters from strangers and “offers coming over the phone” — impersonal interactions to say the least — is double-edged: you’re important and sought-after, but cut off. Even so, clearly the fantasy of the bright lights hasn’t gone away entirely. The dude still wants be where the lights are shining on him.
p.s. I should have flagged this entry from Walking off the Big Apple in particular, given that Cyrus and I are at times tempted to turn this thing into a Moby-Dick blog once and for all.