Yeah-haah. This weekend every time I turn on the tv (other than the rugby; oh the wonderful rugby), its been country music. “But I don’t like Country music”, I think. Who does? A few inbred, cowboy-hatted truck driver rapists and their peroxided sisters/lovers/wives/rape-victims, (as if there’s a difference in Kentucky.) All in lines doing silly dancing whilst some good ole boys are shootin’ pool, a few others dressed in white robes are burning crosses and some limp, lame bearded has-been moans on about his dog dying so tragically, to the accompaniment of a teeth-jarring slide guitar played by a one-legged Vietnam vet draped in a confederate flag.

I don’t think that picture invokes any prejudice or preconceptions whatsoever.

And then they showed Dolly and Kenny singing ‘Islands in the Stream’, the most sickly, slimy saccharine of any song ever written, this one by, of all terrors, the Bee Gees, making it, quite frankly, the total Donald Trump of songs.

But I love that song!!!! Really love it. How the fuck did that ever happen? It represents everything bad, sad and tragic about the entire music industry, the poppiest, the loveliest, the singalong-est of all the trite, banal and useless songs ever. And I sing it loud and clear. Its a triplet: Dolly, Kenny and Me.

I’m ashamed to even admit such a thing. Not just that I like some Country songs, but that I like THAT song.

It was on a program about ‘duets’. Most of which are country. Though they also had a great film of Wayne Rooney and Ashley Young singing ‘still missing you’ and the classic of Ethel Merman and Kanye West singing ‘who the fuck are YOU???’

Never mind, when its over, there’s a programme with Bob (sharp intake of breath through the teeth) Harris. The man who inspired my entire youth. The man who gave us The Old Grey Whistle Test, where they played real music. Not pop rubbish. No singles. Nothing sweet. Proper ‘LP music’ for the rock devotees, for those who wouldn’t ever be so uncool as to watch Top of The Pops. And where’s Bob now? Today? For this programme? He’s in fucking Nashville. Sorting out Country Music. Would you adam’n’eve it? I watched it because it was on BBC4 and on the grounds that ‘I’ve already paid for it’, I might as well. Brilliant. Totally brilliant look at the Nashville scene.

But on principle, ‘thank God its over’, so I can revert to my ‘don’t like country music’ persona. Except on the other channel there’s Shania. Is she still alive? Is she still the one?

She looks fab. Gorgeous. Not quite as gorgeous as she once was (only George Clooney and Me get away with that) but acceptably ‘ok’. BUT, and its a big ‘but’, its a recent concert she gave at Caesar’s Palace in Vegas. Oh dear. The place where reality is suspended along with your bank balance and ‘old stars’ get the opportunity for one last gig before they die. Elvis did it. Tom Jones is still doing it. David Copperfiled’s been doing it so long he’s now a reincarnation. So Shania did it too.

And she came on stage on a horse. A fucking horse. To which (to whom??) she in fact sang ‘still the one’. She still loves her horse. That’s good to know. And in the old days Shania would pitch up on stage; just her, a stool and her Guiiiii-taaaaah. They don’t do that at Vegas. They had ‘SHANIA’ in fifty foot illuminated letters, dancers, a few orchestras, lazar lights, spotlights, fireworks, the full: ‘I may not be able to sing as well as I used to but LOOK AT ALL THIS SHIIIIIIT!!!’

I’m going to buy a stetson.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx