Review Summary: The start of my love affair with music as an art form, a journey as wondrous now as it was when it began twenty years ago.
It's June of 2006, I'm nine years old and school has just let out for the summer. Less than 72 hours into the season, a day at the movie theater with my dad and his then-girlfriend is on the agenda. With sixteen ounces of Coke and a small box of popcorn in my lap, I strap in for the latest Disney/Pixar offering:
Cars, an animated adventure set in a world populated by anthropomorphic vehicles. The star is Lightning McQueen, a hotshot rookie racer who must venture to California after his foolproof philosophy of 'minimal tire pressure, maximum
ka-chow' doesn't work out so well. A series of mishaps veers him well off his intended course, stranding him in the locale that initiates the real action of the story. When McQueen and Mack initially depart for California, we're treated to a brief montage, just shy of two minutes in length, documenting the pair's early hours on the road. A high-energy country rock tune plays throughout the sequence. The song is called "Life Is a Highway" and the band performing it is called Rascal Flatts. I don't know the band or the song yet, but I'm about to. A couple days later, my uncle and I are driving up to my grandma's house to spend the afternoon with her, pizza and Pepsi secure in the backseat of my uncle's navy blue 1989 Cadillac Seville. A vaguely familiar melody creeps its way through my uncle's busted, crackly speakers, prompting me to reach for the volume dial, a decision that will change my life forever. To my amazement, it's "Life Is a Highway." I don't know why, but this made me freak out. Something about hearing it in the movie then hearing it on the radio just clicked in my young mind. I thought it was the coolest thing ever.
I spent the remainder of that summer seeking out "Life Is a Highway", aiming to hear it as often as possible. This resulted in me camping out in my dad's bedroom for hours before bedtime, watching Toon Disney and listening to the local country stations on the Aiwa stereo system perched on my dad's dresser. "Life Is a Highway" would always come on eventually, but all that interim exposed me to a whole slew of songs from other artists I found myself enjoying. It's also through this that I found other songs from Rascal Flatts, who had become my favorite band, and really the first band or artist I'd ever seriously obsessed over. Continuing to listen to radio, while also watching CMT and GAC, the two TV channels dedicated to country music, I began actively following their career, setting me on a journey of musical self-discovery that continues twenty years later.
Me And My Gang, the band's fourth studio album, was kind of a big deal when it hit store shelves in April of '06, debuting at #1 on the
Billboard 200 and selling over 720,000 CDs in just its first week of release. After years of touring and establishing a presence at radio, Rascal Flatts had genuinely ascended to the absolute peak of stardom in the music industry during this time. Not counting the
High School Musical soundtrack,
Me And My Gang was the best-selling album of 2006, moving more than three and a half million units (out of its eventual lifetime total of five million) by year's end. The band's back catalog was also still selling well. Their previous effort, 2004's
Feels Like Today, also moved over five million albums, and was still among the highest-charting
Billboard albums, both at country and overall, by the end of 2006. Propelled by
Gang, Rascal Flatts sold more albums than any other artist that year. Their headlining concert trek that year also sold more tickets at the box-office than any other in those twelve months. Simply put, Rascal Flatts was the biggest recording act in the world in 2006, as they, in a decidely rare feat for a country band, outperformed the entire industry in every conceivable category. It's no surprise that they were crowned Artist of the Year at the American Music Awards, beating out the Pussycat Dolls, Mary J. Blige and even f*cking
Beyoncé! It's hard to overstate what a year they had.
Gang was also a turning point for the band's career artistically. Their first three albums, despite the evident and pervasive pop influence, had sort of a homely and understated slant that later albums in the trio's catalog, for better or worse, simply don't have. It marked their first time working with prolific Nashville producer Dan Huff, with the band also contributing in that regard, and the switch from working with Mark Bright and Marty Williams is a noticeable one. The music is much louder, intended for a wider audience, and leans more heavily into pop rock tendencies that were more sporadically present previously. Critics have sometimes been a bit harsh on the group for picking what they perceive to be weak singles, even chalking it up to decision making on the part of the label; the band was signed to Disney's country division Lyric Street, with Hollywood Records distributing, so they had as much industry backing as you could get. I myself don't even think these criticisms are entirely unfounded, as the singles from this album boast of being some of the most radio-friendly in the band's discography, but I still enjoy them. This is probably enough of a preamble, though, so let's jump in!
"Stand", which would later be the album's final single and that enjoyed a trip to #1 in May 2007, opens things up in the band's characteristically uplifting and heartfelt way. An anthemic tune that encourages listeners to take the world head on with a clenched fist, it's got some of the most poignant imagery among the band's laundry list of hits ("Life's like a novel with the end ripped up, the edge of a canyon with only one way down"). Everything about this track feels warm and empowering, from Gary LeVox's earnest and friendly vocals, to Joe Don Rooney's ebullient lead guitar. The swelling mix of fiddles and mandolins from Jonathan Yudkin add even more dimension and life to this outstanding opening cut. From there, we segue into "What Hurts The Most," one of the band's signature hits. Originally recorded by country crooner Mark Wills in 2003, the Flatts rendition spent the better part of two years ruling radio across several formats. It went to #1 at country
and adult contemporary, reached the top 10 at adult top 40, almost cracked the top half of the mainstream top 40, and nearly scaled the summit of the Hot 100, topping out at an impressive #6 finish. I don't mean to say charts are a yardstick for quality, but this track has a lot of it, which I think is why it dominated airwaves for so long. The Grammy-nominated romp glides in on purposeful steel guitars and a longing LeVox lamenting lost love (check out the music video if you haven't btw), before that killer hook takes off. As the intensity builds, Rooney's guitar is as prominent as LeVox's stratospheric vocals, and the final chorus is an absolute earthquake of emotion, before ending as we began, with steel guitars and relative stillness. That refrain lingers
long after the song ends. Even if you're not allowing yourself to be torn up by the gut-wrenching lyrics, you can still just jam the f*ck out. The song is that much of an all-around event.
Brushing ourselves off, some pianos brimming with personality let us know that "Backwards" has gotten up and running. This one is so borderline wacky that it almost defies analysis. Good luck keeping up with that rapid fire chorus or keeping yourself from breaking out into an improvised line dance when that fiddle and steel guitar solo comes barreling through. Rascal Flatts has served up many a song of this kind that are so fun and out there, with varying degrees of success, but this one is impossible to hate. LeVox's charisma ensures it maintains a footing of likability, because it's so damn sincere. Juxtaposed with that is "I Feel Bad," which is the first song here that really starts to ostensibly oscillate from country into overt pop tendencies. From the shimmering keys to Rooney's glassy guitars, it's a ballad the trio sings the fire out of with their trademark harmonies, but functions best as filler or a stopgap. It's not quite the distillation of all of their best attributes like most of what we've heard thus far.
"My Wish" is a special song for me personally, for a host of reasons. When my oldest sister got married in 2017, I was surprised when she called me to the center of the venue floor to dance to this song together. It was here I learned our late mother had dedicated the song to us years prior. In turn, it became woven into the fabric of my relationship with both of my sisters, as well as my oldest sister's children, my niece and nephew, who never fail to yank a Cheshire grin out of me when they call me Uncle Shamus. There are
so many noteworthy lyrics from this touching masterpiece, but the chorus is my favorite:
My wish for you
Is that this life becomes all that you want it to
Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small
You never need to carry more than you can hold
And while you're out there gettin' where you're gettin' to
I hope you know somebody loves you
And wants the same things too
Yeah, this is my wish
For the band's part, the song was also one that saw them cut their teeth creatively. When Rooney and Huff were constructing what would become the high-flying guitar solo on the bridge, Rooney actually vocalized an ad-lib melody at Huff's direction, and they built the guitar section around that. I could go on for hours about all the reasons why "My Wish" means so much to me and why I think it's one of the most essential tracks in the Flatts canon. Rooney's guitar work continue to be a prominent component as we move ahead to "Pieces", which the band themselves co-wrote with Monty Powell. Singing of a relationship that's run its course, LeVox turns in a vocal that makes the words feel lived in ("Someone let you down again, so you turn to me, your convenient friend/All the fire we had before, are now just bitter ashes left scattered on the floor"). The Flatts try their hands at...
reggae?! on "Yes I Do," and, in a way only Rascal Flatts can, manage to fit a square peg into a round hole. The fiddles on the bridge are a treat and I'd be lying if I said I didn't shake my shoulders every time this one comes on. Bassist Jay DeMarcus co-wrote "To Make Her Love Me," and its another bit of familiar territory for the band; unrequited love, with LeVox appealing to the Almighty in his efforts to win her over. String arrangements take the track to towering heights, with the band's crisp harmonies, and LeVox's brilliant lead parts, on the hooks serving as a sturdy chassis.
If you want more evidence of what makes LeVox such a gifted vocalist, look no further than "Words I Couldn't Say." Once again backed up by orchestral grandeur, LeVox calls out to a former companion, kicking himself that he didn't do enough to make them stay. From his timbering runs on the opening verse to his eye-popping falsetto on the outro, he knocks this performance out of the park, with Rooney and DeMarcus filling in those harmonies again to create a cohesive product. The title track "Me and My Gang" is a certified foot-stomper, sizzling red hot with some of the most high-octane energy in the band's early catalog. It's another one of those songs that often times scan a bit inessential in the context of the band's broader discography and career arc, but they
always sell it with enough conviction to justify its existence. This one's a keeper too! That brings us to "Cool Thing," co-penned by Rooney, which paints a vivid picture of a brief spring break fling that hit the protagonist LeVox portrays a lot harder than he'd like to admit. With a performance that soars like the lyric's imagery, the Flatts fire on all cylinders with a particularly gripping second verse:
We walked ankle deep in ocean
You know that place where footprints disappear
Just like that evening she drove away
It'll be burned in my mind for a million years
Songs like this always resonate with me. It sucks when a connection ignites like this, only to end up stillborn because the two parties are just ships passing in the night. It's fun while it lasts, though, and the band brings the young lover's story to life with a heartfelt composition. "Ellsworth" might be the most draining stanza here. Weaving a tale of an elderly grandmother forced into "assisted living" when her mind starts to fade, but whose personality is not only still present but comes alive when a happy memory pops up, this is easily the most quaint tune here, cresting with subtlety and not bombast, which would otherwise bruise the song's intimacy. Having watched my late, beloved grandmother struggle with similar issues towards the end of her life, this one hits close to home. "He Ain't The Leavin' Kind" is the penultimate portion of our journey, and one that has grown in meaning to me as the years passed. As some of you know, I spent years contemplating if I still had a relationship with God before finding Him again in 2025, and revisiting this one is especially resonant for me. "Even from those who don't believe and wanna leave Him behind, He ain't the leavin' kind," LeVox emphatically promises. It's probably the best note we could close on before we reach our curtain call.
Only one song left.
You know what time it is, boys.
Life's like a road that you travel on...
"Life Is a Highway" is
the reason I'm even writing this, the reason I found this amazing band, the reason I fell in love with music as an art form, and began actively seeking it out, finding new artists and songs that would also captivate me and color in the story of my life. Over the past twenty years, I've latched onto countless songs, across a list of genres too long to enumerate, each with its own distinct flavor and legacy. But
all roads lead back to this point. I might not have ever raced home after school to watch
Total Request Live on MTV, dared to get my nads kicked (literally) in a Warped Tour mosh pit, or learned to appreciate hip-hop and the vehicle for change its been for black artists, had this song not planted the seeds of curiosity in a nine-year-old kid's head in 2006. It also sparked in me the dream of singing in front of an audience, a dream I get to live out every Tuesday at a local open mic. "Life Is a Highway" is indelibly intrinsic to who I am. Perhaps another song would have helped mold me into the hopeful optimist I am today, but I honestly shudder to imagine my journey panning out in any way besides how it did.
Originally written and cut by Canadian music legend Tom Cochrane in 1991, "Life Is a Highway" really lives up to its title. It's
all about life, aptly comparing the winding roads we traverse to the peaks and valleys this wondrous adventure of living provides us. There's always bad days, there's always moments of doubt, where you fear failure, where you question your worth or ability. That's when you remember:
There's a world outside every darkened door
Where blues won't haunt you anymore
Where the brave are free and lovers soar
Come ride with me to the distant shore
The instrumental hasn't even begun, and so many things are on my mind. Of course, there's
Cars, and how many times I've watched it or played the video game, and how the song and the movie are linked forever. There's the pleasant memories of seeing Rascal Flatts live three times (even getting to meet them pre-show in 2008!). There's all the times the song came on the radio unexpectedly, and how uncontrollably excited I'd get. The nostalgic ties are too real. With Rooney's 80s-esque licks starting things off before the full band performance charges in to catapult us across the rubicon, I strap back in (for the millionth time) for the most exhilarating four and a half minutes ever put to record. LeVox puts his arm around your shoulder to sing those purposeful first words, allowing the energy to build as that iconic chorus gets going:
Life is a highway
I wanna ride it all night long
If you're going my way
I wanna drive it all night long
In my humble opinion, that's the greatest chorus ever. Simple, but oh so effective. It
demands to be sung at the top of your lungs as you roll the windows down and allow the weight of the world, if only for a moment, to be blown away. "From Mozambique to those Memphis nights, the Khyber Pass to Vancouver's lights," we cover (metaphorically and literally) a lot of ground, Rooney and DeMarcus' ever-reliable backing vocals helping bolster us as we trek through the proceedings. Things are still popping off like 4th of July fireworks as the bridge rolls in, any shred of pretense quickly gives way to that
f*cking awesome guitar solo.
Holy. F*cking. Sh*t. What a face melter. If you're not smiling by the end of it, you don't have a soul. I jest, of course, but seriously, what a burst of sunshine. We get treated to not one, not two, but
three more generous servings of that legendary chorus before Rascal Flatts slowly fade out, the music never stopping as the final seconds tick away. And that brings us to the end of the journey. Without any doubt, this rendition of "Highway" remains my favorite song of all time.
Early CD pressings of
Me And My Gang actually
didn't include "Life Is a Highway." Only the gargantuan success of the song and the movie earned it bonus track status on later prints. The song also wasn't officially released a single, either, surprising as that may be. But with the movie serving as its obvious tool for getting off the ground, it became the band's largest commercial success ever, reaching #7 on the
Billboard Hot 100, and cracking the top 10 at country radio entirely through unsolicited airplay. As of this writing, it's about to cross 1 billion lifetime streams on Spotify and has been certified
eight times platinum by the RIAA. An easy addition to the all-time canon, not just for country, but for popular music in general, "Life Is a Highway", specifically this inimitable Rascal Flatts rendition, is simply a
classic. And for this humble reviewer, its parent album managed to be that for me as well.
Rascal Flatts' music has been there for me through absolutely everything. From the highest highs to the most crushing lows, there's always been a song to be the soundtrack of the moment. When I'm envisioning myself driving my dream car, it's "Red Camaro." When I'm feeling motivated to put sadness behind me and start anew, it's "Feels Like Today" or "I'm Movin' On." And of course, when I want to just have a f*cking blast, it's "Highway." Twenty years on, I'm still that wide-eyed kid at heart. I still feel like anything is possible. I'm glad,
grateful, to still have my childhood eyes two decades later. With the Lord as my north star, and my favorite collection of songs funneling through my earbuds, I can
never go wrong.
To Gary, Jay and Joe Don, if y'all ever see this, thanks for twenty unforgettable years thus far. I'm so excited to see what lies ahead, especially knowing I can always turn to your music whenever I need a pick-me-up. It's a gift I can't say enough about, try as I might. Life is still a highway, and I still wanna ride it all night long.
I love you now like I loved you then. And I
always will.
