SOME hopeful opportunists have been spreading rumours that the blessed Dolly Parton will be putting in an appearance at the Glastonbury Festival this weekend.
They can hardly be blamed for their wishful thinking – Dolly would be the ideal addition
to the bill, banishing the mud- encrusted blues with her sunny outlook, dazzling sequined presence, inimitable voice and feel-good catalogue of country standards, stretching back more than 40 years.
But Parton has scotched these rumours. She will be spending this weekend, as planned, safely under cover in the company of 18,000 fans in Glasgow and then a few more in Manchester, rather than soiling her remarkable stage outfits in a Somerset field.
Maybe next year, Mr Eavis. You would be a fool not to pursue the Queen of Country for a slot on the bill. The Dolly Parton brand is guaranteed gold.
Her current album is entitled Backwoods Barbie – a knowing nod to her grassroots in Tennessee's Smoky Mountains as much as to her doll-like image. She is no dumb blonde, as she is fond of reminding us.
Backwoods Barbie is Parton's first mainstream country album in over a decade and is a patchy collection of glossy Nashville pop which sounds like a backward step in the wake of the wonderfully earthy blue-grass material she has produced of late.
It was this kind of lovable, open-hearted spirit which carried her through such cheesy lyrical platitudes as: "I'm little but I'm loud. I'm poor but I'm proud."
Much of the first half of her set was taken up with such simplistic, sentimental autobiography, which included tributes to her mother (Coat of Many Colours) and an old-school gospel medley in memory of her preacher grandfather.
Another enduring element of her show is the camp Dolly cabaret, incorporating many unapologetic jokes about her physique and appearance. "I'll never graduate from collagen," she assured us. A stickler for co-ordinating accessories, she ensured that all her instruments – from fiddle to banjo to grand piano – matched her white glittery gown. "I never leave a rhinestone unturned," she quipped.
The irony is that she doesn't need any of these frills to sparkle when she has songs of the calibre of Jolene to draw on. "I've been trying to forget her for 40 years," she joked of the women who inspired its desperate plea.
In fact, she shone brightest when she stripped away the showbiz. An a-capella Do I Ever Cross Your Mind?, performed with her entire band harmonising at her side, was a joy, while her version of Little Sparrow, with minimal blues backing, was a spine-tingling highlight.
She closed the show on a high with a volley of her sing-along hits – Here You Come Again, Islands in the Stream, 9 to 5 and the only version of I Will Always Love You that ever mattered.
