My personal stylist is in a state of high excitement. She and her boyfriend have tickets to see Faith Hill and husband Tim McGraw that evening.
This pair are the Posh and Becks of the parallel universe that is Country & Western, except that Faith can sing and Tim can play. The girl hacking back my greying locks gushes inarticulately about how much their music means to her, speaking of a shared experience of poverty and suffering. I point out that the happy couple now own half of Tennessee and make more money on a single concert than she will see in her entire life, but years of hairspray fumes have done their work too well, and she continues clipping away on automatic pilot without pausing her idolatory drivel.
I can’t say I care too much either way, but it does seem a bit like cheating to me. After all, as with the Blues, how can you sing C&W when you’re rich?
“My wife done screwed the poolboy
She done wreck ma Merc”
Somehow it’s just not the same…
Johnny Cash and June Carter always seemed a more authentic couple to me – but maybe that’s a quality that can only be recognized posthumously.
Johnny and June, yesterday. Now that’s the real thing.