It’s time to be a cowboy nooowwwww / and cowboys DO cry…

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Julian Axelrod: Noah Kahan’s email inbox must look crazy these days. After securing a string of Stick Season features from his famous friends, I can imagine him slowly working through a stack of requests for verses like he’s Ty Dolla $ign in 2016. Kelsea Ballerini is among the first to cash in on the Kahanaissance, and she’s not fucking around: Nothing says “I, too, would like to sell out arenas in Vermont” like an earnest folk ballad about fragile masculinity and the complicated relationships between fathers and sons. Unsurprisingly, Noah rises to the challenge, and their voices come together beautifully. But coming off a year of promoting her most “personal” work yet, it’s telling that Kelsea feels most comfortable fading into the background.
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Katherine St. Asaph: A surprisingly tender, nuanced lament on toxic masculinity. Both Ballerini and Kahan are credited; perhaps they’re to thank for the empathy?
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Will Adams: A comment on the lyric video by one darrensawyer-ju9bn: “Thank you for bringing attention to the fact that men have emotions too.” I genuinely cannot tell if this comment is facetious or sincere. My cynical, too-online brain wants to cast off “Cowboys Cry Too” as obvious and self-serving, but there’s a little seed in there that truly believes Ballerini and Kahan pull it off. It helps that their take on toxic masculinity acknowledges the generational aspect (“I grew up wishing I could close off the way my dad did”) and the woman’s perspective (“when he’s showing his skin… that’s when he’s toughest to me”). It’s pretty, too, which also helps.
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Jonathan Bradley: “Cowboys Cry Too” would like to signpost changing expectations of masculinity, but it underestimates the terrain: country music since its inception has offered an arena in which men were permitted to be more emotional and more sentimental than they can outside the honky tonk. Cowboys are complex: as well as weepers, they are creatures mommas should not want their sons to grow up to become, but they’re also frequently secretly fond of each other. Noah Kahan is not a cowboy or a country artist, but his folk ballads offer something like a Vermont corollary to the genre’s implicit Southernness. Kahan can’t deliver a melody as expertly as Ballerini, who here attempts empathy but ends up sounding stunted (boys have feelings — who knew?), but his first-person narrative of fathers and burning “too many miles trying to ride out the sadness” paints a more nuanced portrait. But there’s also the ghost of Reba McEntire; if cowboys cry, Brooks and Dunn told us cowgirls don’t, and using that song’s motifs puts into relief how emotionally austere this one is. There’s too much Yankee stoicism here and not enough tears.
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Taylor Alatorre: I’m okay with country music existing in this imaginary space where everyone’s either a cowboy or cowgirl, regardless of their suburb or exurb of origin. But when used in a song title like this, and especially when paired with “I never knew,” the effect is rather infantilizing, like your therapist giving you advice from a Pixar movie. However, Ballerini’s decision to buck the Western imagery and reach all the way to Vermont for a duet partner was improbably the correct one. If Noah Kahan has any misgivings about being typecast as a weepy folk balladeer, he doesn’t show them here, as he pins down the kitschy platitudes into a more concrete narrative about fatherhood and fears of abandonment. Notably, though, he doesn’t make any reference to rural life in his lyrics, suggesting that he too might be quietly ashamed of working under this banner. A good illustration of a case where keeping one’s feelings bottled up really is the best option.
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Nortey Dowuona: Alysa Vanderheym once co-wrote a song called “Talk You Out of It” for Florida Georgia Line. Hence why, when she got to be part of a good song, she went hard in the paint with the steel guitar.
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Ian Mathers: “This Whole Thing Smacks Of Gender,” i holler as i overturn Kelsea and Noah’s overpriced-sounding milquetoast pop country song and turn its Jukebox score into the 4th of Shit
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Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Give me my “Dawns” back.
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Alfred Soto: The fusty tropes don’t smother Kelsea Ballerini’s lack of affect; she knows how to weigh her feelings by sticking to the script. Noah Kahan isn’t there yet, but in a fictional world where a song about cowboys a-weepin’ enters the Hot Country Airplay top five his pathos is a glass of fresh iced tea. 
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