It is an understatement of the highest order to call Dolly Parton misunderstood and underappreciated. She is, without question, an American musical genius on par with the likes of Irving Berlin, Bob Dylan, Johnny Mercer, George Gershwin or Hank Williams, and far superior to many of these. Lost within the complex fabric of personality that is Miss Parton, Inc., stands a songwriter, vocalist, musician, lyricist, producer and poet that is uncompromising, emotional, political and, yes, dare I say, provocatively feminist. She of the ample bosom has written no less than five thousand songs over the course of a career spanning four decades, the worst of these far better than the best most songwriters could ever muster.
I have several Dolly Parton anecdotes that I pass around in defense of her talent, of her beauty, and of her disarming and unexpected intellect, but my favorite is one for the ages. About seven or eight years ago now, Dolly Parton, icon, superstar, multi-millionaire wakes up with an epiphany. She is not satisfied with the person or artist that she has become. She is sick and tired of singing other people's inferior songs, she is sick and tired of the schlock, and she is, to borrow my favorite quote from Bill Clinton, "just plain sick of tired of being sick and tired." Inspired, determined and alive once more, she phones her longtime manager and checks out. She tells him that she is going away, and she does. Where does she go? She goes back home. They say that you can never go back, but Dolly, like she had so many times before, found a way, and back she went. She returned from her journey more authentic, more attune and more inspired than any of her contemporaries—past or present. Dolly took to the small home that she been raised in and over the course of the next ten days fasted, prayed, and wrote. She emerged from that house with a new sense of purpose and with a handful of songs that would make up her new album and be the basis for an artistic renaissance akin to the phoenix-like beauty of Tina Turner's own resurrection fifteen years prior. And what did she call this album? She called it Hungry Again. Now if that doesn't suck the wind out of you, nothing will.
Just Because I'm A Woman: The Songs of Dolly Parton is a recently released effort that separates itself from the pool of its genre ghosts by several key measures. First, it is artistically relevant. Second, it is an authentic and loving tribute. Lastly, it joins the best of the honorees past and present together to form a cohesive and studied retrospective. The thirteen song set opens with Parton's vocal doppelganger Alison Krauss and her virtuously sublime turned down treatment of the not-so-cautiously feminist "9 to 5." It is followed by the irritatingly moving rendition of "I Will Always Love You" by rock maven Melissa Etheridge, irritating not because of any distaste I have for Etheridge—quite the opposite holds true, but because I am constantly defending Parton's quiet and sensitive treatment of this classic over Whitney Houston's undeniably powerful vocal explosion. The simple beauty of Norah Jones' take on "the Grass Is Blue" almost approaches that of the original, almost. Bluesy and compelling are just two of the adjectives one could employ in describing Joan Osborne's glorious version of Parton's lesser-known 1982 track "Do I Ever Cross your Mind?" Her voice is like an overripe fruit begging to be eaten. Country hot girl Shelby Lynne chooses Parton's inspired and magnificent "The Seeker" and more than does it justice, the vocal beauty of the track is duly matched by the subtle but powerful production choices.
Who is Mindy Smith? It is a question that will not be oft asked after this album. Smith transcends the insistent Norah Jones and faux feral hype of Joss Stone, this girl is the real thing. No kind of joke powerful she is, and she represents the artistic high-point on an album full of contenders. "To Daddy" by Parton's friend, the resplendent Emmylou Harris, is a triumphant and emotional rendering of one of the writer's more potent assemblages. Shania Twain, backed up by Alison Krauss and Union Station, surprises on "Coat of Many Colors," delivering a simple and effective tribute to one of American music's greatest songs. Kasey Chamber's haunting "Little Sparrow" soars, as does Sinead O'Connor's tempestuously organic take on "Dagger Through the Heart," from Parton's 2002 Halos and Horns. "Light of a Clear Morning" one of Parton's most powerful and endearing creations gets a heroic re-interpretation on Alison Moorer's powerfully subtle rendition of a song that needs be cataloged as one America's greatest. Me'Shell NdegéOcello is a provocative and stimulating artist and her distinctive and shall I say fun, rendition of "Two Doors Down" adds street-cred vibrancy to an album full of credibility.
Fittingly, it is the artist, the legend herself who closes this album. Dolly Parton's new production of a song she wrote and performed more than twenty years ago proves why she is still relevant and still amazing. "Just Because I'm A Woman" is the song, and the very title suggests rebellion, even now. Imagine its impact almost three decades ago. The woman amazes me. The only artist in the world capable of approaching Parton's refined vocal sensitivity is Alison Krauss and I believe that even she might agree that there ain't nothing like the real thing baby.
Will Dolly Parton ever receive the honor and respect due her? Probably not. And that makes me very sad. Sad not because it hasn't happened to others, but because, in the end, the reason the respect will be withheld is precisely, because she was a woman. Hell, maybe Dolly Parton is as much a prophet as she is a genius, or maybe some day the world will be different and give credit, finally, where credit is due.
The Songs of Dolly Parton Just Because I'm A Woman
