The American Spectator

br> My boss just pushed me over the limit. br> I’d like to call him something, but I think I’ll just call it a day. /blockquote> br> WHEN COUNTRY MUSIC WORKS, it works beyond compare. You turn on the radio and get three knockouts in a row, Faith Hill’s orgasmic “This Kiss,” Alan Jackson’s exquisitely sentimental “Remember When,” and Toby Keith’s delicious half-stoned singalong, “I Love This Bar,” and all’s right with the world.

And then comes Montgomery Gentry’s kick-ass bar rocker, “Hell, Yeah,” with its oddball infusion of octave singing (used be the exclusive province of Euro-rock), heavy metal guitar riffs, and almost chattily Beat lyrics, which deserve an extensive quote:

blockquote>She’s got an MBA and a plush corner office br> She’s got a don’t mess with me attitude br> She’ll close a deal she don’t reveal that she can feel br> The loneliness the emptiness br> Except when she comes in here br> She’s the product of the Me generation br> She’s got a rock and roll side when you get her agitated br> She got the tattoo there on her derriere from a spring break dare br> In Panama where love was all she thought she’d ever need p>She yells out to the band,