Dolly’s
Day of Reckoning
I
was in such a snit last week that I forgot to gush &
boast about going to see Dolly Parton at the Molson with
a friend of mine who is her biggest fan. As we were trying
to find our way through the hell on earth that is the Ex
in the last week before school, I asked him if he knew what
Dolly’s politics were. She’s well known for being
a feminist and solid supporter of working class and rural
Americans. But politics now means two-horse American politics.
Does she vote red or blue? He shrugged and said he knew
that she was in favour of gay marriage — but that she
had also performed for American troops in the Gulf at various
times. Then there were fireworks and sequins and steel guitar
and all thought of politics faded from view…
…until
the end of the show, when the constant plugging of her new
album (Those Were the Days, covers of a bunch of
60s hippie songs) paid off spectacularly. Not that her cover
of Me & Bobby McGee wasn’t a bluegrass rollercoaster
of fun, but there she was, Dolly Parton, icon of white American
(Cherokee, working class) blondeness (well…), belting
out "Screw you" to her government. Kind of. "Where
Have All the Flowers Gone," "Blowin’ in the
Wind" and "Imagine" — karaoke standards
whose lyrics we barely hear anymore — were resuscitated
from background music on The Wonder Years to American
protest song standards burning, bra-like, with relevance
and passion.
Dolly
Parton was no Jane Fonda: she spent the 1960s and 1970s
making movies and albums, recording the occasional feminist
standard ("9 to 5" and "PMS Blues" spring
to mind), but not really rocking the boat. Now, with bluegrass
and folk regaining its indie cred as music of the people,
she plays the harmonica and autoharp live when singing some
of her best-known songs from down home, and she’s taken
a limp, wasted back catalogue by some antiquated movers
and shakers and injected ‘em full of Viagra. The artists
of that time who aren’t dead (Lennon, Joplin) are too
busy selling (out) their iconic status to offer much in
the way of protest (come in Bob Dylan, your number’s
up) or retreating into apolitical musical forms (Joni Mitchell)
or take-what-comes movie roles (Kris Kristofferson, although
working with John Sayles time and again does earn him points).
It’s left to Dolly to speak out.
What
does this mean for the future of the universe? Well, there’s
the frightening (or inspiring) vision of the 50th anniversary
of 9/11 concert at which Britney Spears-Timberlake and Christina
Aguilera, their rivalry long behind them in the name of
their mutual quest to depose the Olson sisters’ global
rule, duetting on Ani Difranco’s "Your Next Bold
Move" as President Chelsea Clinton-Kennedy nods along
sagely. And there’s the encouraging (or depressing)
idea that in forty-six years’ time the protest songs
of our day will once again have meaning. People will dust
down their CDs of Le Tigre, Spearhead, Kanye West, LAL,
The Hidden Cameras and Ms. Dynamite and rig up a system
to deal with the ancient technology. They’ll listen
once more to the words (and music) of wisdom, rage and power,
setting aside their associations of The Hidden Camera’s
fourth album being re-released as the soundtrack to Queer
as Folk: The So Retro Series (2047) and Ms. Dynamite with
her later career as L’Oreal model.
What’s
depressing is that in forty-six years’ time, so little
might have changed that "Imagine" will still be
a relevant song urging people to change (mainly because
all Beatles-related memorabilia bores me rigid). Jane Fonda
is organising anti-Iraq protests — but off the back
of renewed fame from Monster-in-Law. Where are the
other spirits of the sixties? Gone, gone away. Which makes
me nervous about the fates of the singers, writers, artists,
film-makers — such as they are, in their huddled camps
and on isolated rooftops — who are speaking out now.
Is being covered by Britney Spears in her dowager days and
appearing in TV shows about the good old days all that the
future has in store for them? Or will the noughties even
be looked on with the fondness that the sixties still inspire?
The grimness of Guantanamo, unlike the horror of Kent State
and My Lai, has no Woodstock to set against it. How will
we make memories of now? And will we look back and find
that anything has been learned?
And
will we have Dolly Parton to thank for it?
"Pixie
is in the process of creating a zine that includes a full
transcript of this interview. If you are interested in obtaining
a copy, please contact her at pixiessays@shebytches.com"
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