“I like everything except Rap and Country.”

God, is there a more phrase as simultaneously innocuous and incendiary as that one? It’s the pop music equivalent of “I’m not racist, but…;” a phrase oft repeated by the woefully underinformed and culturally stagnant when they want to appear more evolved than they actually are. By saying that phrase, you are marking yourself as a milquetoast middle of the road dingus bereft of imagination and taste. You have time for everything, except for Nas and Patsy Cline? Fuck you. You’re going to miss everything cool and die angry.

I’m letting myself get worked up about this, which is silly, because A. It’s only pop music (but I like it) and B. You don’t really hear the phrase bandied about as much anymore. Hip-Hop has dominated the mainstream for decades at this point, and all but the most adamant of holdouts has entered the fold. But Country, well, that’s a different story.

The thing that made the utterer’s of the dread sentence uncomfortable about Hip-Hop is the same thing that still makes them uncomfortable about country: it’s music with a strong, complex cultural identity. Rap and Country exist outside a number of folks’ frames of reference, especially if they’re young white middle class Yankees. People hate leaving their comfort zones, and so they glom onto the worst aspects of the Other as a reason to reject them (see: any time someone uses the “Bitches & Hoes” or “Jingoistic, Xenophobic Bullshit” arguments).

There still is, by and large, a cultural embargo on Country above the Mason Dixon. When it manages to be successful up here, it’s usually been smuggled in as “Indie Folk” or “Americana” by groups like Deer Tick and songwriters like Alela Diane, or disguised as “Utter Trash” by the likes of Mumford & Sons. People feel the need to avoid the label to seem palatable to the northern market.

Nashville’s Caitlin Rose, on the other hand, could not give a half-pint of piss about what you think; the 25-year-old singer has no qualms about being Country. Since her 2008 debut EP, Dead Flowers, she’s been singing chain smoking, hard drinking sagas of heartbreak, songs that could, and do, rub shoulders with the likes of Waylon Jennings and Patsy Cline. Her second album, The Stand-In, dropped earlier this month, and its clean, almost glossy production has the balls to flirt with the Music Row mainstream. A friend of mine from Nashville called the record an “Indie Linda Rondstat Revival,” and she’s not wrong.

Rose’s music is simultaneously sweet and shitkicking; bright and gloomy. In short, it’s damn good Country. For a little taste, check out her cover of Alex Turner/Artic Monkeys’ “Piledriver Waltz:”

Neat, right? If that tickled your fancy, you’re in luck: Caitlin Rose is gonna be in town for a few days, playing Park Slope’s Union Hall on Saturday and Mercury Lounge in the LES on Monday. By all accounts she’s a great live show. Check it out.

And that’s this week’s dose of Now Take Them Out Devils. If you’re interested in hearing more from Simon Lazarus Vasta, you can follow him on Twitter @Hunter_S_Narc, or nip down to the Mercury Lounge show on Monday and buy him a drink or twelve. Join us next week for a meditation on the dark side of Lite FM….

Previously, on Now Take Them Out, Devils…

And now, the exciting conclusion:

2. StageDIIVing @ Music Hall of Williamsburg

By the time dreampop/shoegaze/new wave/post punk/critical darlings DIIV reached their encore (which consisted of early single “Geist” and a cover of Blank Dogs’ “No Compass”), the crowd belonged to them. Heck, the audience was theirs from the moment they got on stage, but by the time the show was over, all free will had been surrendered, all self-consciousness abandoned. I watched from the balcony of the Music Hall as the crowd was transformed from fans to acolytes: indiepop maenads. Grown men and women were moshing like they were at their first all-ages punk show, surfing the crowd in pairs, throwing their fists in salutes of solidarity. A girl with striking green hair found herself onstage for the second time that night, took a breath, and dove back into the fray with a triumphant shriek that could be heard over the drone and thrash of the band.

It was the perfect storm, really; not only was DIIV one of the most talked about groups of the year, they were also something very few hype bands are: actually hypeworthy. And while their debut record, Oshin, certainly is fantastic, DIIV shines live. While they might have started off in a shoegazey, C-86 place, they’re something else entirely now. They’re faster, punkier, pulsing with energy. While most of the gigs I saw this CMJ were met with enthusiastic nodding, DIIV, this alleged “dreampop” band, got the jaded youth of New York fucking dancing. They get it. They’ve got it. What next?

1. Killer Mike goes a cappella @ Irving Plaza

Overall, Killer Mike’s set was a revelation. Between the choice cuts from his latest LP, R.A.P. Music, a smattering of classic guest verses, as well as a stage presence and patter that moved from militaristic to funny to deeply spiritual with relative ease, the Dungeon Family’s best MC delivered, hands down, one of the best shows I’ve seen in years. But the greatest moment of Mike’s performance, and, indeed, the whole 2012 CMJ Music Marathon, was when he launched into best-song-of-the-year contender and anti-government polemic “Reagan” and, after only a few bars, instructed his DJ to cut the beat. Completely a cappella, Mike then continued, half preaching, half rapping the lyrics, letting them sink into the audience’s skulls. We all stood enraptured, hanging on every syllable, watching this rapper from Atlanta verbally disassemble America, assess its moving parts and point out exactly how the whole thing got so messed up in the first place. And finally, Mike shouts, “I leave you with four words:” and turns the mic to the audience. Needing no further instruction, feeling it with every fiber of our beings, Irving Plaza shouted back, “I’M GLAD REAGAN’S DEAD!”

Over and over, meaning it more with each iteration. A fierce, collective catharsis born out of pop music. It’s moments like this that remind me why I’m so in love with the stuff in the first place.

Simon Lazarus Vasta hopes that you’re all safe and sound, and if you have money and/or time, please donate some of it to those in need. Follow him on Twitter @Hunter_S_Narc.