September 23, 1999

Dear Patsy,

I promised I would write to tell you about the Country Music Association's Awards Show that took place in Nashville last night. As you know, those awards serve as a barometer of the state of country music and point out which way the winds are blowing, to overuse the weather metaphor. I hate to tell you this, Patsy. But these are stormy times. I think it's good that you weren't here to see this; you would have died. Let me tell you about it.

First of all, you wouldn't believe what they did to that Grand Ole Opry stage. They turned it into a Hollywood set. That stage contains floorboards from the very stage you and Hank stood on in the Ryman Auditorium, and they desecrated it, Patsy. They desecrated it.

During the first performance they had fairies flying through the air. They had people wearing kilts and dancing around as if CMA stood for Celtic Music Association. The singers, they call themselves the Dixie Chicks. The only thing Dixie about them, Patsy, they were made up like some trailer park bimbos. The whole thing was so overly theatrical, it distracted from the music. Which, as I think about it, was a good thing. But I know that you would never stand for fairies flying through the air as you were singing "She's Got You." I guess if they had to win an award, it is fitting that it was for a video and not for a record. All fluff. All fluff.

Then things went downhill. Trisha came on next and, thank god, she sang a country song. But I tell you, Patsy, if you hadn't seen her for a while you would think that she spent the last 6 months locked up in the Krispy Kreme shop on 16th Ave. I know you had some problems in this area, too, Patsy, but nothing like Trisha. And for that matter, Mary Chapin Carpenter. It's like they all agreed, "Hey, let's all get fat; maybe no one will notice if we all do it."

Your friend Johnny Bond joined you in the Hall of Fame, as did Dolly and Conway (whom you never got to know). They're worthy, Patsy. I think Dolly got that Hollywood thing out of her system finally and has come back. She did a great rendition of "Mystery Train," and guess who she had singing in her backup group!! Alison Krauss. Oh, yeah, you don't know Alison either. Alison has about the purest voice you'll find singing these days, Miss Cline. Sometimes I think you must have sent her down here to tide us over during these troubling times.

How troubling are these times? Well, how about Alabama? Here's a group with staying power. Since 1977 they have had top 10 hits each year. And they're gooood. But for some reason they decided that wasn't gooood enough. No. They had to sing with another group called 'N Synch. I know you've never heard of them or heard any of their music. They don't play that kind of music where you are, Patsy. Let me just tell you that one of them had dreadlocks and another had purple hair. No, really. And there they were on the Grand Ole Opry stage!!

But that's not the all of it. I hate to tell you this, but you probably have heard it already. Two people (who you may have thought would carry your torch to their graves) sold out on us. I cried. I cried when Dwight Yoakam, like the Dixie Chicks, performed with a rag-tag bunch of dancers all wearing GAP jeans (turns out Dwight gets a lot of money from GAP jeans - he's in their commercials). Again, theatrics. All Dwight needs is his guitar and a microphone and he's the best. But no. He succumbed to the glitz and the lure of corporate America. This once promising Buck Owens protogee with his Bakersfield sound is now just another cog of corporate music.

If that's not enough to upset you, wait until you hear about Merle. For 4 decades country music was spelled M-E-R-L-E. But on Wednesday that all ended. Instead of a duet with Dolly or Patty or Dawn or Loretta, or instead of singing ALONE for crying out loud, they had him doing a duet with someone named Jewel. Yeah, I know, but that's her name. She's a no-talent kid who has the life experiences of a 14-yrear-old and she's trying to sing country with Merle. Merle was at his worst because he just kept staring at Jewel's cleavage during his song and he lost track of everything, including his roots and what got him where he was until Wednesday.

 

I know you probably don't believe all this stuff, Patsy, but it's true. You can even check out what the Baltimore Sun Music Critic, J. D. Considine, said about the debacle by clicking right here. (You *do* have WWW up there, right?)

But, Patsy. I've saved the worst for last. Do you know whom they named the Entertainer of the Year? The Grand Prize, as it were, of country music and do you know whom they gave it to? If I gave you a million guesses, you'd never get it. They gave it to that no-talent Canadian with the plucked eyebrows (again, no offense) named Shania Twain. Patsy, I had to turn the TV set off when she came on stage. I remembered your appearances on Arthur Godfrey and that nice housedress you would wear. I remembered those stunning skirts and vests that Emmylou still wears and the lovely gowns that Reba favors. But Shania, "Country Entertainer of the Year" has different tastes. She wore pink hot pants, pink tube top, pink boots, pink raincoat and pink cowboy hat. Patsy, I swear. I thought I was watching a Pepto Bismol commercial. She would have embarrassed Liberace.

Any lingering doubts that people may have had about Blackwell's naming her the Worst Dressed Country Entertainer of the year (and remember, this puts her in the same category as Minnie Pearl and Porter Wagoner), were immediately dispelled. If you think I'm making this up, check out J. D. Considine's article. How DARE she call herself country?

Martina McBride was named Female Vocalist of the Year, mostly because of her song, "I Love You,' which, (maybe by now you could have guessed this) happens to be on the soundtrack of another Hollywood movie with Julia Roberts and Richard Gere in it. I don't think anybody would call this song country.

Tim (Male Vocalist of the Year) and Faith are still milking that cutesy "Mommy and Daddy" thing and taking awards away from more deserving performers, but they'll soon go the way of the Judds.

Well, as you can tell, I'm upset. And I hate being the one to break this news to you. But let me close on some happy notes:

I miss you, Patsy. Please remember me to Hank.

Love,

- Robert