Parton Puts on the Glitz in NYC
We sometimes coddle our august musical treasures in their middle or
twilight years, offering exuberant cheers for performances high on
seasoning, but equally marked by ravages of age and dubiously spent
youth. The holy trinity of country music queens from the Seventies
hasn’t fared terribly well. Tammy’s gone, and Loretta only returned
recently from a hiatus. Which leaves Dolly. While Tammy’s calling
card was her wounded soul, Loretta’s her pugnacious brass, Dolly
Parton was and remains among the most deliciously complex figures
Nashville has produced, fusing a keen songwriter’s eye with a
noggin that knows all the industry angles. And she’s dressed for
Vegas, becoming that rare icon of creative substance.
And while the talents of some of our legends show signs of
erosion, the biz-savvy Parton skillfully steered clear of the booze
and pills in her youth. The result is that at age fifty-six her
aptitude as a showwoman is acute and utterly undiminished. With no
concessions or excuses, her voice remains as bright blue and liquid
as her eyes, and it sparkles like her get-up. Parton began her
first tour in ten years last night at New York City’s Irving Plaza
a scant few days after Pride Week. With all apologies to Elizabeth
II and her Golden Jubilee, gay inertia from the previous week of
celebration abounded, and Parton was the Queen among queens.
Parton’s stage show (which also drew Bjork and Debbie Harry) was
a dynamic concoction of contradictions: Hee Haw humor and
gothic ballads, mountain music virtuosity (courtesy of her
denim-outfitted backing ensemble, the Blueniques) and light-hearted
use of her gargantuan fingernails as an instrument, sparkling blue
dresses with flared, flowing sleeves and spiritual songs of coats
of many colors. The emphasis was on Parton’s three most recent
albums, The Grass Is Blue, Little Sparrow and the
brand-spanking new Halos and Horns, and the songs were
perhaps even more luminous live than on record, if for no other
reason, due to Parton’s still lively stage presence. She has found
a winning musical formula, throwing bluegrass, country, mountain
music and pop into the pot and stirring up something that
ultimately just sounds like her. It’s an accomplishment only the
greatest of interpreters (Ray Charles leaps to mind) have
accomplished. And like Charles, Parton can take a song and rethink
it for you, finding the gospel buried in Collective Soul’s
guitar-burdened “Shine.” And she still has the ability to shake the
masses with a lively take on the Osbourne Brothers’ “Rocky Top,”
and the crowd favorite “Jolene.”
An a capella medley efficiently showcased some of her catchiest
Eighties material, original and covers (“Here You Come Again,”
“Islands in the Stream,” “Two Doors Down,” “Why’d You Come In
Here”), and “9 to 5,” a less belligerent take on Johnny Paycheck’s
“Take This Job and Shove It,” always gets a rise. And as quickly as
Parton could stir up the randy crowd (including a bouncing “He’s
Gonna Marry Me”), she commanded immediate silence for her tragic
fictions “Mountain Angel,” “Little Sparrow” as well as “My
Tennessee Mountain Home,” one of her most beautiful and human
songs, inspired by her father’s homesick return to the Smokeys
after a few weeks working in Detroit. Like the crowd, in the
softest moments, the Blueniques would drop out, allowing her voice
to fly alone.
Keeping with Nashville tradition, Parton heeded the adage of
always leaving them wanting more. She wisked her myriad bundles of
flowers to the side of the stage and offered her encore without
ever leaving. “I Will Always Love You,” one of her most delicate
and beautiful originals, had all night to resonate as a well-chosen
closer. It’s a song that has been unfairly transformed into
something resembling workout tape for oversinging, but then Whit’s
over-the-top take has probably funded Dollywood for the past
decade. In Parton’s hands, the verses are sung rather than mumbled,
and the chorus is more fragile than thunderous. It’s a song made
timeless by its simplicity, just like the best offerings by the
Carter Family or Hank Williams.
Contrary to popular belief, Parton has three, rather than two,
robust talents, and all have nothing to do with her brassiere.
There is that brilliant career sense that has allowed her to enjoy
the iconic radiance of Elvis without the road ending at the toilet.
There’s a voice that ranks among the most recognizable in music,
country or otherwise. And as the author of so many of her own
classic songs, there’s also a secure legacy that will outlast the
luster of her starshine, which seems unthinkable these days, as it
still glitters like rhinestones.