The Ben Rector brigade

All hail the dad power ballad

Photo by Jason Rosewell on Unsplash

If my car wore a bumper sticker, it would read “Ben Rector is my president.”

That’s because in our representative system, he’s my guy. Father of twin sons. Lover of the mundane. Midwesternish sensibilities.

Something about Rector’s enthusiastically sappy and silly grocery store music speaks directly to me. Perhaps it’s my age; it’s certainly my life stage. His latest album is called The Richest Man in the World, and it perfectly captures the true riches heaped upon a man whose home is filled with love.

Golden Days has been my track of choice lately. The opening line resonates with this fellow father of twin boys: “I wish you’d stop fighting.” There’s a particular brutality unleashed by two brothers who have been competing for space and supremacy since before birth — battles almost always preceded and followed by laughing fits with their best friend.

Rector doesn’t overlook the difficulties of today, but he also flips forward a few chapters, recollecting in real time on the messy beauty of everyday life.

One day I’ll miss moments like this
One day I’ll wish I could go back here now
I’ll walk past your room and hum out this tune
Wondering how you’re doing
But time runs away and things have to change
These are the golden days

As I say, Rector is nothing if not self-aware. He acknowledges in the first chorus that he’s tired of picking up his kids’ “sh*t,” but also knows he’ll miss those scattered toys one day when his children have grown up and moved out.

Until my cousin Austin recently posted a tribute to his wife and kids on Instagram with a Rector tune playing in the background, I comically thought I was the only one who knew of him. He came onto my radar in 2013 with the record Beautiful — it was Ben Folds, James Taylor and Butterfly Kisses all rolled into one. (As an elder Millennial, I mean that as a compliment.)

To me, Ben Rector is the patron saint of modern fatherhood. He doesn’t care to be Mr. Cool; flannel life is perfectly fine. As a guy who now prefers Costco clothes to anything found in a mall, this feels right.

As he’s grown up, so have Rector’s themes, namely fatherhood. And he’s in good company.

There is a growing cohort of male musicians who put words to the great satisfaction of coming home to a healthy family, enjoying Bluey and Netflix nights, and looking forward to a glass of wine with your spouse on the weekends.

Cory Asbury’s song These are the Days captures it well, chronicling the anxieties of first-time parents bringing home a newborn and the stress of assembling a bike; emotional school drop-offs and saying goodbye as kids leave the nest; the creaks of a too-quiet house and joys of new grandbabies.

It’s not maudlin; it’s a father’s love song to his family.

The kindergarten drop off line
His first day of school, didn’t even cry
And that was when we knew that life
It had a funny way of just passing us by
These are the days that we’ll want back

So tell ‘em bedtime stories, give ‘em a kiss good night
Darlin’, before we know it, this old house will be quiet
I know we’re tired right now, someday we’ll laugh about it
Let’s slow it down and raise a glass
‘Cause these are the days that we’ll want back

Luke Combs is a country music superstar who’s enjoyed tremendous crossover success. As he shot to the absolute pinnacle of popular music, he wrote and released an album called Fathers & Sons, which speaks intimately about the experience of loving your dad, losing your dad, becoming a father and raising a son.

Plant a Seed will forever be in rotation for me, depicting the advice imparted by an old man to a young father.

Time ain’t always your friend
It starts slow and gets faster towards the end
So fill up your heart with love, pass it on before you go
And thank the man upstairs that you were there to plant a seed and watch it grow

Front Door Famous is another classic in my house. Combs talks about his experience conquering the entertainment world while performing on the road, yet he imagines seeing his son’s face in the crowd and his little guy asking when he’s coming home. Inevitably, just as with most professional success, the bright lights eventually dim and the world comes into focus.

Walking through the front door
Hearing “Daddy” at the top of his lungs
With his feet on the wood floor
Runnin’ up to give me a hug
Yeah, that’s what it’s all for
And the spotlight can’t replace it
In a heartbeat, man, I’d trade it
‘Cause it ain’t got nothing on bein’ front-door-famous

Being away from family is frequently difficult, even on short work trips. I spend weeks anticipating the freedom of traveling solo, only to start missing my sons as soon as I walk through the airport unimpeded. You forget that you don’t have to look around every 10 seconds to check on them; you miss being able to reach over and muss their hair. I can only imagine the push-pull of enjoying explosive stardom while also feeling a deep tug toward home.

Russell Dickerson, another rising country voice, shares similar sentiments in his song Famous Back Home. In it, Dickerson describes his past hopes of making it big and being recognized as a hot shot in his hometown.

He gets his wish, but it looks different than expected:

I had a big dream of bein’ somebody
Somebody someone back home can look up to
Make a name, make a killin’
Make one hell of a livin’
I look around and I guess I went out and did it

Cause now it’s
“Hey baby, can’t wait to kiss you”
“Look, daddy, I lost my first tooth”
Around here, a charcoal sear and the blessing’s how I’m known,
It’s paper planes and tire swings spinnin’
A slow dance alone in the kitchen
A little hallway Hall of Fame with four faces framed in gold
I’m livin’ the dream, yeah, I’m a household name
Yeah, I’m famous back home

These songs capture something universal: Being a husband and father is life’s reward.

There are tough days. Heck, there are tough years. Fatherhood isn’t for the weak. But these days are golden.