The attempt was part of a campaign by the CMA to “brand” its music, something that had never been tried before “as far as we can tell,” according to the CMA executive director Ed Benso. It wasn’t that country music had taken a nose dive, but the ’90s had been such a booming time for the genre that producers and music executives were loath to take a hit. Garth Brooks, Lyle Lovett and Billy Ray Cyrus had allowed the brand to go international and platinum in the space of a few short years, but it was still a struggle to find the right marketing techniques to sell Europe on the Country Music Television channel.

And then, Sept. 11. If country music benefited as a result of the twin towers falling, then it was a bittersweet victory. CMT garnered its highest ratings in October of 2001 after holding the “Freedom Concert,” which raised $5 million for the Salvation Army Disaster Relief Fund. Alan Jackson achieved a moment of fleeting worldwide fame when his single “Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)” became a symbol both of America’s pain and cynical attempts to cash in on the hurt. (See “South Park’s” takedown of Jackson in the episode “A Ladder to Heaven.“) The same went for Toby Keith’s “Courtesy of the Red, White & Blue (The Angry American),” which the country star had to be coaxed into playing after an initial bout of discomfort with the material.

But as a USA Today article in 2002 aptly pointed out, this discomfort did not affect the listeners of the music:

“… if country songwriters have been reluctant to talk, country fans have been more than willing to listen … both Jackson’s and Keith’s records topped the Billboard country singles chart, Jackson’s for five weeks. Several similar records, ranging from generally patriotic numbers to songs written in direct response to the attacks, have made at least nominal showings.”

Not all performers were shy about tackling the tough issues post-September either. Steve Earle put out his response in the album “Jerusalem” in 2002, which included the song “John Walker’s Blues,” written “from the vantage point of ‘American Taliban’ John Walker Lindh.” The song was met with criticism from both sides, with some calling it “unpatriotic” and others claiming that it was too controversial a subject. Some performers were accused of cashing in on the attacks, like Bruce Springsteen, who released “The Rising.”

But the legacy of country music is bigger than the individual. Once the dust has settled, what will people see when they look back at country music in the aughts? Taylor Swift, the CMT Awards, the CMA Awards (completely different), Carrie Underwood, Lady Antebellum, Brad Paisley, Miranda Lambert, Keith Urban, Gwyneth Paltrow and “Country Strong”; just in the past year the popularity of the genre has allowed its stars to overtake the Grammys, both in nominees and interest in other music award shows.

Perhaps we can attribute the rise in popularity of country music as much to Swift, Underwood, Miley Cyrus and “American Idol” as we can to the attacks on Sept. 11. But I’d wager that these fresh faces in the industry flocked to country music specifically because it resonated with the first historical event they were alive to witness.

“Born This Way” also sounds (like most Gaga songs do) exactly like an early Madonna track. Which still doesn’t explain why this morning the Internet was introduced to an alt-country version of “Born This Way” that sounds suspiciously like Gwyneth Paltrow’s attempts at the genre during “Country Strong.”

Maybe it was an attempt to make country music more inclusive: after all, you don’t hear a lot of lyrics about gay people in Lady Antebellum songs. Or maybe country-pop really is getting that popular after “Need You Now” swept up both the CMA Awards and the Grammys. Whatever her reasoning, I’m at least grateful that this diversion has distracted the Internet from making another Rebecca Black remix to commemorate what day of the week it is. Oh wait, nevermind.

Many of the songs on the record are slapstick hilarious: “El Camino” is an ode to the driver of a ’72 brown and tangerine, “low and obscene” car of the same name (“We were making out in the disco era,” she sings, “he was Travolta and I was Farrah,” before concluding with the inspired rhyming couplet: “If I wake up married, I”ll have to annul it/Right now my hands are in his mullet.”) Many women will recognize the hipster dude she describes in “Rock ‘n’ Roll Man,” (he’s got “all his money tied up in guitars,” with a “tip bucket by the microphone stand,” and “likes to talk about Elvis, but only the Sun years”). Unfortunately, even more might know just exactly what she’s talking about in “Say Yes to Booty” when she sings: “When you say yes to beer, you say no to booty. If you’ve slept with a drunk man you understand, it’s not that hard.” On the other hand, the song “Snake in the Bed” seems even funnier because it doesn’t seem to be so much a double entendre as it is a warning about the possible hazards of sleeping on a pull-out couch in the country.

But Cook’s songwriting has serious range: “Heroin Addict Sister” uses her knack for details to create a heartbreaking portrait of a loved young woman who shoots “the devil’s DNA” and comes home “asking for her mama’s bathrobe and a pot of potato soup.” In “Mama’s Funeral,” a family gathers around the porch swing to look at the paint worn down by their mother’s feet. Cook also covers “I’m Beginning to Forget You,” a song written by her mother, Joyce, soon after her first husband left her alone with five small children.

Besides making records and touring the country, Cook also hosts “Apron Strings,” each weekday on Sirius radio, in which she “chit-chats” about aspects of her daily life, like making music, being on the road, and missing her cat and her bathrobe. We caught up with her just after her morning radio show taping and just before she got back on the road for her nightly gig.

You were raised by country musicians and you’ve played everywhere from the Grand Ole Opry to folk festivals to rock festivals. Is there a more eclectic audience for country music in your generation than there was for your parents’ generation?

At last night’s gig, we had some old punk rock guys, then these total country boys, tattooed-up roughnecks, then older well-heeled couples and intellectuals. So hipsters, intellectuals, folkies, hippies, it’s absolutely across the board. People are generally more diverse. Everyone has a richer, more unique experience. Just because you live in some town doesn’t mean you live a stereotypical life from that town. Yet at the same time, people are nostalgic for where they come from. That’s why the old-school country sound is still viable. Longing for a simple, more innocent time.

And are your influences diverse?

My first concert my parents took me to, when I sat on my daddy’s knee, was Conway and Loretta. The first concert I went to where my daddy drove me and three of my girlfriends and sat in the parking lot while we went inside was Madonna on the “Like a Virgin” tour, with the Beastie Boys as the opening act. MTV came on the air when I was coming of age, and they had Michael Jackson and Bruce Springsteen, everything on the same channel; there wasn’t so much focus on the genre issue. I knew all the words to Merle Haggard and Tammy Wynette songs, but found pop music very exotic.

Madonna is obviously a huge generational touchstone for women musicians in terms of pushing the boundaries of what one can say in a song, owning your sexuality, and all that. Do you have any thoughts on what you’ve taken from someone, like, say, Madonna, and singers like Dolly and Tammy and Loretta? Do you feel there are things you can say that they couldn’t?

The thread is that they all represent themselves in an open, honest way. I think a lot of women struggle with it. We use different terminology now but it’s all saying the same thing. “Say Yes to Booty” is “Don’t Come Home a Drinkin’ With Lovin on Your Mind.” It’s all the same message; just different ways of saying it.

Something about that “Snake in the Bed” song sounds like the snake in question was more literal than metaphorical.

It’s actually 100 percent true. I was at Georgia Southern; I was sick, I was sleeping downstairs on a foldout couch-bed and I thought I would catch up on some schoolwork. I had my backpack sitting by the sliding glass doors in our little condo and I went and dumped my whole backpack out on my bed. I was laying back, sorting through folders, and this little black thing went wiggling down my leg. I completely freaked out and ran and got the neighbor. He was a big old strapping country boy and he was such a wimp about it. We both ended up taking the sheet out and shaking it out. But I actually wrote the song after watching Bush’s State of the Union address in 2005 or 2006. It’s somehow metaphorical; I don’t quite understand it myself.

Something about watching George Bush address the nation made you think of a black snake in the bed?

It just seemed like there was some trickery going on.  

The real reason that Chely Wright’s news has been met with more shrugs than fists is simple: The country music fan base is wider and more diverse than Glenn Beck would have you know. Sure, there are a lot of country songs about pickup trucks on dirt roads and kicking terrorists’ asses with the Statue of Liberty’s torch. But the vast majority of country listeners are city dwellers, scattered over a range of demographics. Just like it’s no secret that hip-hop is consumed by suburban teenagers, country music has long been consumed by urbanites, of whom there is more than a sprinkling of left-leaning folks. In fact, more than ever, country music is world music. Kenny Rogers has an enormous following in Nairobi and there are aboriginal country singers in Australia. Chely Wright’s big news just proves that no matter what Nashville might say — or what Sarah Palin might think — country music is for everyone.