Dolly Parton’s tie-in album Run, Rose, Run is a fresh dose of country dynamite
On the ebullient country-and-western romp Firecracker, the fluttery voice of Dolly Parton rises from a jiggly bed of fiddles, banjos and zinging guitars to declare that she’s “a little stick of dynamite full of TNT”. Which might appear a fair summation of the diminutive but feisty veteran superstar, before you take into account the fact that she’s apparently singing in character as an entirely fictional teenage country wannabe called AnnieLee Keys.
And yet, on the Nashville anthem Big Dreams and Faded Jeans, Parton’s familiar coquettish rising-and-falling cadences give voice to the role of quite another country singer, a retired veteran who apparently answers to the name of Ruthanna Ryder. Confused? Well, instead of reading the liner notes to make sense of this, you’ll have to read the book. Or spare yourself the pain, and read my colleague Allison Pearson’s review.
Run, Rose, Run is a tie-in album for Parton’s debut novel of the same name (though she has collaborated on memoirs and children’s books before), in which these characters appear. She has written it – or, let’s say, created it, because even Parton herself seems reluctant to claim to have spent much time hunched over a word processor – with the blockbuster super-author James Patterson, who has put his name to over 200 books and notched up a record breaking 114 New York Times bestsellers, many created in collaboration with other writers.
In the literary world, this kind of joint effort tends to be sniffed at, yet in the songwriting world it’s very much a norm, with teams of writers regularly crafting hits together. Indeed, the singer-songwriter who works entirely solo is becoming something of a rarity. Yet Parton has been the sole composer on most of her classic hits, including I Will Always Love You, Jolene, Coat of Many Colours and 9 to 5. And, thankfully, she has sole credit on the 12 original songs written to provide a soundtrack to her co-written novel.
I say thankfully, because Parton is a class act when it comes to crafting sleek, smart and subtly emotional country-pop nuggets. (And, let’s face it, no one wants the author of the violent Alex Cross crime series offering up his take on country’s folksy milieu of ordinary lives and domestic struggles.) This is Parton’s 46th studio album in 55 years, and at 76 years old she sounds on fine form throughout. There’s a subtle oaky patina and sibilance to her high voice that lets you know you’re listening to an older singer, which renders her impersonation of a teenager a mite unconvincing. Yet her flow, tuning and timing remain impeccable, with every vocal commanding attention.
Parton conjures up a typically feisty pro-female (as opposed to militantly feminist) anthem with Woman Up, which proposes that her heroine intends to stop whining and just “woman up and take it like a man”. Blue Bonnet Breeze relates a tragic narrative of doomed young love that could be utterly shocking; yet country thrives on tragedy with relish that would make a vampire blush, and Parton effectively delivers it as a sweet fable of deathless romance. And there’s a trio of fine duets with gravel-voiced male country singers, Ben Haggard (son of Merle), Joe Nichols and producer Richard Dennison, all apparently auditioning for the role of Parton’s novel’s love interest, Ethan Blake.
Keeping up with which character is supposed to be singing which song might be an entertaining distraction for dedicated Dolly lovers, but less literary fans will be pleased to hear that the album stands up perfectly well in its own right. Indeed, the arrangements are quite old-fashioned, with an old-timey Nashville charm that reaches back to Parton’s more rural 1960s oeuvre.
Conceptually, this is an odd choice. I’m not convinced that a teenage wannabe would be quite as enamoured of peppering every track with Jordanaires-style gospel and doo-wop backing vocals as the septuagenarian composer is. And what would they make of Parton’s Elvis impersonation on Firecracker, when she suddenly declares herself a “hunk-a burnin’ stuff” then adds “thank you very much”? Where, indeed, are the drum machines, synthesisers and massed Auto-tuned vocals that colour so much 21st-century country pop? Perhaps Parton should have had a word with her goddaughter, Miley Cyrus.
The kind of cross-marketing that Parton’s concept album represents has become a crucial element of commercial success in the modern pop environment, for which Parton’s theme park, Dollyland, suggests she has always been ahead of the curve. (Indeed, in the world of country music, the voluptuous veteran would probably say she’s been ahead of both curves.) The bottom line is: you don’t have to read the book to enjoy the album, and I suspect that some of us might enjoy it more that way. I don’t want to offer any spoilers, but given the tremulous conclusion, in which Parton trills “I’d like to believe it’s love” on the lush ballad Love Or Lust, I think it’s probably safe to assume that the story has a happy ending.
Out on Butterfly on March 4. The novel Run, Rose, Run is published by Cornerstone on March 7
