I grew up country; my parents raised me on a steady diet of Loretta Lynn, Dolly Parton and George Jones. I worked at a couple country radio stations; I've seen some of the ugly parts of country culture up close but I also can empathize with the fear that can motivate some of the abhorrent-to-me behaviors I see in some country fans.
If it feels like I stepped around that sentence like I was walking through a minefield, it's because I was.
Here's the thing: country music fans have a reputation as conservative, some to the point of xenophobia. Which doesn't make them bad people; it makes them scared people. Clearly, this isn't all country fans — um, hello, I'm right here — but it's not in any country music star's best interest to show their leftist tendencies, if they have them. That's not to say some don't, but for the most part, country music fans reward conservative-leaning candidates.
It makes sense, then, that entertainers like Dolly Parton — and it's wrong to label her a singer, because her shows offer so much more — don't get political.
So why did her set at the Amalie involve a round of protest songs, including Bob Dylan's "Blowin' in the Wind"?
The diminutive yet larger-than-life country music icon chose her words carefully; no matter who you supported in the last election, you could feel like Dolly felt the same way you did. She likened what was happening on the streets today to what happened in the ’60s, but stopped short of encouraging people to protest. Instead, she spoke of the music that came from the sentiments of the ’60s, then sang a mashup of some of those songs — including "American Pie,” "Blowin' in the Wind" and "If I Had a Hammer" — before making one of several pleas for unity.
The bulk of the night, though included her stories, her favorites, and a lot of love — for her husband, her fans, her family and her home.
"Never," she told the crowd, "be ashamed of your home. Never be ashamed of your religion. Never be ashamed of who you are."
The crowd — well-dressed same sex couples as well as evangelicals who held up their hands in praise when Parton spoke about her faith in God — went wild. Parton wasn't whistlin' Dixie with her pleas for unity; this lady walks the walk.
Her set list ranged from new songs like the title track from her latest album, Pure & Simple, to classics like "Jolene" and "Coat of Many Colors" — all in her trademark heels, tight clothes and teased blonde wig. Part of her shtick is objectifying herself, which is, of course, absolutely her right. Parton is an equal opportunity objectifier, though, dressing her clothing designer and creative director Steve Summers in a sleeveless black shirt, cowboy hat and tight black jeans and having him bring out her instruments, telling the crowd she'd told him "make yourself useful as well as ornamental — or vice versa" and that women and men alike enjoyed watching Summers. No one in the crowd disagreed.
And Summers had his work cut out for him — in addition to her voice remaining clear and true, giving no signs of her 70 years, Parton played two guitars, piano, banjo, dulcimer, flutophone and a tiny Dolly-sized saxophone.
In between songs she mixed stories — of growing up poor, her start in Nashville and going above and beyond the call of duty with her onscreen kiss with Burt Reynolds — with talk of her faith in God and the need for America to try and heal. She made jokes about her cold, showing the crowd her tissue and asking if anyone wanted to auction it off an eBay (no takers).
The protest songs certainly shouldn't have been the focus of an amazing show; of her two-plus hours onstage, they took up maybe five minutes. I'm not sure at all it was any sort of secret message; that's not her style and it behooves no celebrity to alienate half their fan base (as many have told me in interviews; clearly, Clint Eastwood and Jimmy Buffett don't care, but many do). The evening was absolutely thrilling and the best and highest use of my Saturday night.
So why can't I get those five minutes out of my mind?
