![]() ![]() ![]() As a race car driver, you kind of get stereotyped into, "Man, you like country" - or you got to say you like country. In the '90s, it was dominating the airwaves. That was what my friends were listening to - some of my closest friends are big hip-hop fans. Q: Dale, how did you get into hip-hop music?ĭale Earnhardt Jr.: I grew up around it. You can learn those details here.īut that was only a small portion of the conversation, and I wanted you to experience the rest of it. This is when the conversation shifts to cultures, and how and why this afternoon together happened, what it might ultimately mean and why Cole shouted out Dale Jr. About this time they ease past the Bull Durham bus, past the Western town with the saloon and the church, and past the new tree house under construction.Įarnhardt purchased building instructions on the Internet, straight from the show "Treehouse Masters." Just then, a passenger notes that Brian Kelley, half of the duo Florida Georgia Line, built a studio in a tree house. Cole notes that he rode a bike to the studio every day in New York while cutting his latest album, 2014 Forest Hills Drive. Junior has a custom beach cruiser, complete with built-in drink koozie on the handlebars. Cole is intrigued: "You have bison? No dogs out here! Wow." They graze in a field adjacent to his home. Earnhardt introduces Cole to Lavern, Shirley, Alice and Flo, his quartet of bison. Or at least, they hope, maybe it will make people think a bit deeper about why they are who they are.Ī bit later, the duo is riding in a Tahoe through a cold drizzle, touring Earnhardt's 130 acres. The fact that they're here together, they hope in the pages of ESPN Magazine's Music Issue, just might erase some stereotypes on both sides of their respective cultures - about both sides of their respective cultures. ![]() Both proudly champion the Old North State. Both are North Carolinians, which is another reason they're here together. Both subjects are total pros.ĭuring all of this, the pair chats about this and that, how Earnhardt just celebrated his 40th birthday. The shooter asks Cole to place his left arm on Earnhardt's right shoulder and smile. ![]() He asks Earnhardt to lighten up his eyes a bit, look sweeter, not so serious. With each command, the shooter's assistants scurry about, flipping switches and shifting lights and altering the set. hollering camera jargon few in the room understand. The photographer fires off flash upon flash - pop. It's one of those "Wait, you know who I am? Oh yeah! And you know who I am?" scenarios. Both laugh at the prospect of this made-for-the-pages band, a happenstance union derived from a pair of unexpected shoutouts. Cole stands tall - confident but unassuming - behind Earnhardt, strumming chords on a stunning, deep-brown 1969 Gibson acoustic guitar he only weeks ago began to learn to play. He knows precisely where to place each piece in the set, and giggles at the thunderclap that ricochets off the metal walls of the half-court basketball floor on his property with each stomp of his right foot. is banging drums on a dreary Monday in January. You have reached a degraded version of because you're using an unsupported version of Internet Explorer.įor a complete experience, please upgrade or use a supported browserĬLEVELAND, N.C. ![]()
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