It’s a new year, and I started this one the same way as every one I can remember. I ate black-eyed peas. It’s a Southern tradition to eat poor folks’ food so that you know that every day will get better. Another twist to that tradition is that every pea you eat represents a dollar you’ll earn in the coming year.

The other genetic half of me requires that I scour and purge my home and stock up on provisions. It’s an Asian thing to make a big deal out of New Year’s Day. Again, a requirement is to eat simple country food so that prospects can’t help but get better. So in addition to black-eyed peas, I had a good helping of gyoza.

Top all that tradition with celebrating a New Year’s Day wedding anniversary that happens to coincide with the year the movie “Pure Country” (which airs on CMT about a bazillion times a year, and I watch it almost every time) came out in 1992 – and I just had to write about George Strait’s latest album, “Twang.”

Just for the record, I love black-eyed peas and gyoza. And I dearly love George Strait. I even flirted with the thought of getting a discount Jet Blue flight to Baltimore this weekend to catch the start of the 2010 George Strait tour with Reba McIntire. You can’t get more country than that. And I also love all 13 tracks of George’s 37th album.

While last year’s flash was Sugarland, and this year’s new country darlings are Lady Antebellum and Taylor Swift, who has captivated music lovers of all genres and most ages, George Strait remains King of Country and preserver of tradition.

After 30 years of recording with the same record label (MCA), mostly the same song-writers and the same musicians, you’d think the flavors would get stale and that George would have only leftovers to offer. But he gives you a taste of something new with every album that somehow satisfies the real country appetite.

There’s a reason he holds records for most awards — top-selling albums, No. 1 hits and sold-out concerts — and is third only to Elvis and The Beatles in all-time record sales.

The man can sing a song.

He sings ballads as if he lived every word and as though the song were meant just for you to hear. He sings a Texas swing that makes your toes start tapping. He sings a juke-joint romp that makes your hips start shaking. And he does this in a simple, traditional, nothing-flashy way.

George still wears his Resistol hats and Justin boots, and drives his Chevy truck. The only difference for him these days, at age 57, is that he doesn’t wear his Wrangler jeans quite so tight. But his top-notch band plays even tighter after all of these years together.

It’s been nice aging with George. Listening to the song, “Where Have I Been All My Life,” makes you think that you and George are having a beer and feeling pretty good about getting older. The verse, “I heard ‘What a Wonderful World’ by Louis Armstrong It brought a tear to my eye After all these years I finally get that song Where have I been all my life,” gives you the idea that life keeps getting better.

And after all these years of listening to George, I think he gets better, too.

Of course, George has some real tear-in-your-beer songs on “Twang.” While fame and fortune make for prolific tabloid relationship scandals, George has stayed married to his high-school sweetheart. But he co-wrote with his son three songs on this album full of heartbreak. You’ll swear after hearing his trademark understated singing style that his heart won’t ever heal again.
Mixed in with the reflection and heartbreak is a sampling of dance tunes that ranges from a true country sound in the title track “Twang” to a rock-flavored “Same Kind of Crazy” and a peppery “Hot Grease and Zydeco” to full-on Mariachi spiced “El Rey,” which features George singing in flawless Spanish.

Born and raised in Texas, George graduated from college after a tour in the Army and is still running a ranch in Texas. And, he hardly seems to try at this music thing.

He’s always been a singer, and his previous album titles like “Troubadour,” “It Just Comes Natural” and “Somewhere Down in Texas” tell you exactly who he is. He’s still team-roping in rodeos and writing songs, but now it’s with his son. And it’s still all about tradition.

When I hit that mid-winter wall in Maine and start missing wide open roads with blue horizons in Arizona or biscuits and gravy from the South, I can’t think of a more perfect line than “I need a little Twang.” It certainly hits the spot.

Emily Tuttle spent several years traveling and writing as a daily news reporter in California and Arizona. Music is one of her top five passions. She currently lives in Minot and works as a free-lance writer and ESL teacher.