I will follow you, will you follow me?

Posted on by brucehhackett

This year’s eight inductees into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame have been announced. There’s Oasis, the ’90s Britpop band dominated by Noel and Liam Gallagher, and I invited my British son-in-law to write about them in a blog entry two weeks ago. There’s Sade, the British soul/jazz group fronted by Nigerian-born singer-songwriter Sade Adu, who I’ll be featuring next week.

And then there’s the multitalented British drummer/singer/songwriter Phil Collins, who has sold a gazillion records as a member of Genesis, as a solo artist and a featured collaborator with other artists, who I’m writing about this week.

The rest — Billy Idol, Iron Maiden, New Order, Luther Vandross and Wu-Tang Clan — barely register in my wheelhouse, or not at all. Still, they’ve all sold a boatload of records and concert tickets over the years, and if they’re worthy enough for the Hall Of Fame committee to select them for induction, I reckon they each deserve at least a few paragraphs in a round-up blog post I’ll be writing two weeks from now.

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Over the past 70-plus years, there have been quite a few popular music artists who were what you might call “overly prolific.” They released two or even three albums a year and five or six hit singles annually, and seemed to be playing on the radio in a continuous tape loop. I could mention Elvis in the ’50s, The Beatles in the ’60s, Elton John in the ’70s, Michael Jackson in the ’80s, and those are just the ones that come immediately to mind. We were oversaturated in their music, to the point where even if we loved their stuff, we sometimes grew tired of it through overexposure.

Phil Collins is another example. There was a period of about eight years in the 1980s when, no matter how hard we might try, we couldn’t avoid him. In his case, we found ourselves hearing him doing double- and triple-duty — solo tunes, songs with Genesis and duets with other artists, and film soundtracks on top of that.

But I can’t recall any artists who have found themselves on the receiving end of so much vitriol and ridicule as Collins has. In my view, it went way overboard, and was not at all fair, especially considering the quality of his musical output was (again, in my view) way above average.

Some of the harsh criticism of Collins came from the diehard fans who worshipped Genesis back in the 1970-1974 era when Peter Gabriel was their charismatic frontman. When Collins became the group’s lead vocalist in 1976 following Gabriel’s departure, those fans never accepted him in that role, and in fact grew to hate him very publicly, taking great offense as the band evolved from a progressive/art-rock band into commercial pop superstars in the 1980s, largely because of Collins’s influence.

Those fans who were biased in favor of Gabriel were never going to give Collins a fair shake…but what about everyone else? Why the “We hate Phil Collins” websites? Why did he take so much shit in the court of public opinion?

I’m not sure there’s a definitive answer for that. To some extent, he was lambasted the same way other hugely popular artists have been condemned. Critics have been notorious for seeming eager to knock stars off the pedestal once they’ve reached the pinnacle of success. (Just ask The Eagles.) Consider these comments by journalist Frank DiGiacomo in a 1999 piece entitled “The Collins Menace” in which he said, “Even when I sought to escape the sounds of Collins in my head by turning on the TV, there he would be, mugging for the cameras, intent on showing the world just how hard he would work to sell millions of records to millions of stupid people.”

Ouch.

But every pendulum eventually swings back, and eventually Collins found himself at the top of magazine lists like “Ten Much-Mocked Artists It’s Time We Forgave.” Said J.D. Considine of Rolling Stone in 2004: “For a time, Phil Collins was nearly inescapable on the radio, but we mustn’t deny the fact that he is an incisive songwriter and resourceful musician.” Dave Simpson in The Guardian in 2013: “It’s about time we recognized Collins’s vast influence as one of the godfathers of popular culture.”

So in this essay, I come to praise Collins. The period when he was being annoyingly overplayed is long behind us, and I’ve never much cared about what artists may do or not do outside of their musical contributions. I think his body of work is largely quite good indeed, not only as a singer and songwriter but also, let’s not forget, as an innovative drummer, which is how he got involved in the music business in the first place.

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Collins was born in 1951 in London and began drumming on toy kits at age five. He became an active child actor, appearing in several West End stage productions, including as the Artful Dodger in “Oliver!” But his interest in music and drumming was far greater, and by age 15, he abandoned acting and devoted all his time to playing in bands, emulating his drummer heroes like jazz great Buddy Rich and rocker Ringo Starr.

Collins in 1970

In 1970, he was only 19 when he applied for the job as drummer for Genesis, a talented progressive rock band that hadn’t yet found much commercial success. Singer-songwriter Peter Gabriel, keyboardist Tony Banks and bassist-guitarist Mike Rutherford were all musical prodigies who had attended prep school together, but they lacked a decent drummer, having burned through two already. Gabriel, who had some experience on drums, knew immediately upon hearing Collins that he was going to work out very well for them.

“I was convinced from the first moment,” he recalled in the Gabriel biography “Without Frontiers.” “I knew when Phil sat down at his drum kit that this was a guy who was fully in command of what he was doing, like a jockey on a horse.  He was enthusiastic and very self-confident. I used to have a lot of fun telling the drummers how to do their drum parts.  Once Phil came along, those days were over.”

Genesis in 1974: Steve Hackett, Mike Rutherford, Peter Gabriel, Phil Collins, Tony Banks

In his 2016 autobiography, “Not Dead Yet,” Collins remembered, “I didn’t know at the time how close they were to splitting up. (They’d lost their guitarist Anthony Phillips, who had health issues and suffered from stage fright, and they’d let drummer John Mayhew go.) I had no idea how much was riding on the auditions.  Nor was I aware that Genesis’s finely balanced creative symmetry had had the legs kicked from under it.”  Collins was thrilled to land the job, even though he often found himself playing the role of the jovial outside mediator, keeping peace between the tightly wound schoolboy chums.

Beginning with the 1971 Genesis LP “Nursery Cryme,” Collins proved to be a most welcome addition, showing extraordinary dexterity and inventiveness in his drum fills and rhythmic flourishes, which turned out to be crucial as Gabriel, Banks, Rutherford and new guitarist Steve Hackett combined their instrumental talents on extended, intricate pieces like “The Musical Box.” The band’s reputation as a pioneer in progressive, classically trained rock gained momentum over the next three years and four albums: 1972’s “Foxtrot,” 1973’s brilliant “Selling England By the Pound” and “Genesis Live,” and the 1974 double LP “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway.” Each LP charted higher on UK charts than the previous one, and they began building a modest but devoted audience in the US as well.

Drumming teacher/scholar Rich Lackowski wrote: “Phil Collins’s grooves in early Genesis recordings paved the way for many talented drummers to come. His ability to make the drums bark with musicality and to communicate so convincingly in odd time signatures left many a drummer tossing on the headphones and playing along to Phil’s lead.”

The experience and training Collins had received in musical theater also made him the obvious choice to regularly sing backing harmonies behind Gabriel on many Genesis tracks. He even made his debut as lead singer on two short, nondescript tunes, “For Absent Friends” and “More Fool Me,” which were sometimes performed in concert. But Collins had no notion, no plan, to increase his role. “I didn’t want to not be the drummer,” he said. “This is what I did. That was my territory.”

But the band was thrown for a loop when Gabriel, one of rock’s most flamboyant, dynamic showmen, privately told the group of his intention to step down. He was about to become a father and his wife’s pregnancy was problematic, so he resigned from Genesis following its 1975 tour. The remaining band members were unsure of how to proceed.  Said Collins, “My feeling was, ‘Forget the vocals, let’s carry on as an instrumental four-piece.'” Banks and Rutherford had begun writing some new material and laid down some backing tracks, but eventually they all concluded they needed a frontman vocalist.

They held auditions for Gabriel’s replacement, which lasted nearly two months and involved more than 50 candidates.  Only one seemed promising enough to bring into the studio to try his hand at singing the new lyrics and vocal parts they’d written, but it turned out he wasn’t up to the task. With tour dates looming, and studio hours piling up, Genesis was getting desperate.  Finally, Collins surprised his mates when he suggested, “How about I have a go?”  They sighed and said, “Might as well.”  So he took a shot at singing “Squonk,” a challenging track from their album-in-progress, “A Trick of the Tail.”  The others looked at each other in the control room, and their eyebrows said it all:  Damn, this just might work!

In his autobiography, Collins recalled that day.  “Looking back, it was a defining moment for me.  And yet we were still dazed and confused.  The one guy we thought might manage the vocals has proved a bust, and now the drummer’s had a pop and doesn’t sound bad.  But over the whole album?  Is that wise? We’re caught between a rock and a soft place.  Having explored every other angle, it seems like the drummer is the last-ditch, last-resort-only option.  None of us can take this entirely seriously.  Surely some mistake?  I’m just as conflicted, because I really enjoy playing the drums.  That’s where I live.  Yet there’s no denying the truth:  I can sing the songs.  

“Finally, a compromise:  I might consider this if we can find another drummer I like, because I’m not up for double duty.  It just doesn’t work. The lead singer singing from behind a drum kit is alienating for an audience.  There’s all these cymbals and stuff getting in the way of any connection between vocalist and crowd.”

The press, who were already convinced Genesis could never survive the loss of Gabriel, were mighty skeptical when Collins was announced as the replacement, and the group’s fan base was equally unsure. “Wait, the new singer is the drummer?” Even Collins was hesitant, but when “A Trick of the Tail” was released in early 1976, the response was largely positive and encouraging, perhaps partly because expectations were low.  To many people’s ears, Collins’s vocals sometimes sounded uncannily like Gabriel’s in pitch and tone, and since the music retained much of the intricate fantasy quality of their earlier stuff, the album did well, reaching #3 in the UK, matching the peak of “Selling England By the Pound.”  

Then came the acid test — how will the new Genesis come across on tour? To everyone’s relief, things went surprisingly well.  With ex-Yes member Bill Bruford manning the drums on stage, Collins stepped out front tentatively, not moving much at first but singing his heart out as the group played fan favorites and a handful of new songs. “I had to learn a new set of skills,” he recalled. “I was insecure as hell about being a frontman. The thing I most had to overcome was my fear of performing with just a microphone stand. I was used to having a row of cymbals between me and the audience. It was nerve-wracking. In particular, what was I supposed to do when there’s no singing?”

Exhilarated by the acceptance of the Gabriel-less Genesis (except by the diehard “never Collins” faction), the band regrouped and worked on the follow-up, another dense, heavily prog-rock LP called “Wind and Wuthering,” which included their most popular radio-friendly tune yet, “Your Own Special Way.” On stage, Genesis was now playing major venues for the first time, and they began employing laser light shows and huge sound systems, earning a stellar reputation for big-hall sound quality, which was captured on the brilliant double live LP “Seconds Out” in 1977. Collins had recruited Chester Thompson, a jazz drummer who had played with Frank Zappa and Weather Report, who remained their touring drummer for decades to come.

Meanwhile, guitarist Steve Hackett had grown frustrated by 1978 with what he felt was a declining role and decided to leave for a solo career. This turned Genesis into a trio, underscored by the next album’s title, “And Then There Were Three.” Faced with the loss of one of their songwriters, Banks and Rutherford deliberately shifted away from the sprawling, epic structures that defined their previous work, opting instead for shorter, tighter, more direct song formats. It was a transitional album I happened to like, especially tracks like “Deep in the Motherlode,” “Snowbound,” “Scenes From a Night’s Dream” and “Say It’s Alright Joe.” “Follow You, Follow Me” became the group’s first Top 40 hit, peaking at #23 in the US and #7 in the UK. When they returned to the road, it was with hired gun Daryl Stuermer on guitar, along with Thompson on drums, to beef up the core trio as they made a concerted effort to crack the US market. Collins got increasingly more comfortably as the frontman/vocalist, but he also returned to his drum kit each night for an exhilarating “drum duel” with Thompson.

The tour was a big success, but it came at a price. Collins learned that his wife, who had reached her limit with a husband who was constantly away from home, had taken their two children and moved to Canada to live with her mother. Collins was devastated and tried to save the marriage, but she’d made up her mind. He returned alone to England to nurse his wounds and discovered an effective way to work through the emotional pain: He began writing songs.

Most of the material he wrote focused on the loss of his wife and children and the overall themes of rejection, betrayal and a breakdown in communication. When the band reconvened to begin their next album, Banks and Rutherford were surprised and pleased that Collins would now be contributing songs to the sessions, and two of them — “Please Don’t Ask” and “Misunderstanding” — were included on “Duke” (1980), with “Misunderstanding” becoming the group’s first US Top Ten hit.

Hackett, Banks and Rutherford had all recorded solo albums in the late ’70s, but Collins hadn’t done so yet, instead preferring to contribute to other artists’ records as a drummer, including LPs by Brian Eno and the British jazz fusion band Brand X. But now that he had found he had a knack for writing his own songs, he made demos and started working up R&B-flavored music (something he’d enjoyed as a kid), enlisting the help of Earth, Wind & Fire’s horn section, dubbed the Phenix Horns. He also bought a then-new Roland CR-78 drum machine and became fascinated by the possibilities of electronic drums.

These influences resulted in a rather astonishing solo debut LP, “Face Value,” released in 1981. While the solo albums of his bandmates had made little impact on the charts, Collins’s LP became a commercial juggernaut, with “In the Air Tonight” and “I Missed Again” both reaching the US Top 20 as the album peaked at #7 and went triple-platinum. Suddenly, Collins on his own had become an undeniable pop sensation, even as he concurrently continued with Genesis.

I found “Face Value” to be thoroughly entertaining as a side project, with tracks like “Thunder and Lightning” and a reworking of the Genesis song “Behind the Lines” benefitting from the vibrant horn arrangements. “In the Air Tonight,” with its era-defining drum sound, took on a life of its own, and a compelling cover of The Beatles’ spacey “Tomorrow Never Knows” turned a lot of heads. I’d always been a fan of Collins’s voice, and on “Face Value” it was on full display, handling tender ballads with soft grace and charm, and just as brilliantly, belting out the upbeat tunes with impressive force and enthusiasm.

The Collins haters were ambivalent about the solo work, but when he brought this new R&B/pop sensibility to Genesis with their “Abacab” album later in 1981, many of them abandoned the group for good. It didn’t much matter, though, as a new generation of listeners embraced the new sound, which had New Wave elements that sounded more like The Police. “No Reply at All,” sounding like an outtake from “Face Value,” got tons of airplay in the US, reaching #2 on the new “Mainstream Rock” chart, as did “Paperlate,” an extra track from the “Abacab” sessions that showed up on “Three Sides Live” in 1982.

Collins, Banks and Rutherford in 1983

How did Collins’s heavy-handed influence go over with Banks and Rutherford? Collins thought that using the horns was a good move to “suddenly jar people and take them off automatic pilot” from the preconceived notions they had about Genesis. He said he had the idea of writing a song that someone like The Jackson 5 would have wanted to record, and directed the band in a direction that they had never gone before. This development created some initial reservations from Banks, but he said he grew to enjoy the track by the time it was complete. Moreover, “it brought us the commercial success we’d been dreaming of since the very beginning,” Banks said.

Many critics praised the new incarnation of Genesis found on “Abacab,” 1983’s “Genesis” LP and 1986’s mega-successful “Invisible Touch.” Said one. critic, “The band was right to shed the ivory-tower artistry of their early days and embrace the rich pop hooks and accessibility that have made Genesis truly modern art rock. They have traded technical complexity and ingenuity for an altogether more stunning simplicity, making great music for people who never cared for Genesis in its original version.” Rutherford agreed, saying, “We had gone as far as we could with the progressive stuff, and we were eager to write and record in a more direct, relaxed approach.”

Phillip Bailey in the studio with Collins, 1984

There’s no question that the inexorable rise of Collins’s solo career affected the freedom of Genesis to record and tour at will. As Gabriel would put it, “Phil was a workaholic’s workaholic.” He released five LPs between 1981 and 1993 compared to Genesis’s four, and toured as a solo artist supporting each release. His “No Jacket Required” solo album spawned four Top Ten hits in 1985 alone. Moreover, he had three #1 hits with the winning theme song to the 1984 film “Against All Odds,” a popular duet with EW&F’s Philip Bailey on the irresistible “Easy Lover” the same year, and a 1985 duet with Marilyn Martin on “Separate Lives” from the “White Knight” film soundtrack. When you follow that run with five Top Ten singles with Genesis in 1986-87, and then six more Top Five singles on his own in 1988-1990, you can see how “Phil Fatigue” became a big problem at that juncture.

Collins acknowledged in 2010 that he had been “omnipresent” for a while, conceding that his status as a figure of contempt was a consequence of his music being overplayed. “I’m at fault, I guess, for putting out too many songs in too short a period, but the fact that people got so sick of me wasn’t really my doing. I’m not going to say I’m sorry for being so successful. I honestly didn’t mean for it all to happen the way it did.”

Still, he had plenty of cheerleaders in the business; artists like Robert Plant and David Crosby, who collaborated with Collins on various projects in the ’80s and ’90s, called him “a most positive, encouraging force” and “an enormously helpful friend,” respectively. Taylor Hawkins, the late drummer for Foo Fighters, called Collins “an incredible drummer. Anyone who wants to be good on the drums should check him out – the man is a master.”

The Genesis trio in 1991

By 1990, Banks and Rutherford fully expected Collins would be leaving the band, but he stuck around for one more album and tour. Entitled “We Can’t Dance” to whimsically address the dominance of dance music on the charts at that time, the album featured seven tracks by Collins, more than any previous Genesis LP by far. This lent credence to the theory that most were outtakes from Collins solo albums; certainly the singles “No Son of Mine” and “Jesus He Knows Me” sounded like it, as did the appealing album tracks “Living Forever” and “Way of the World.” Some pieces, though, came from studio jams like the trio had done ten years earlier (“Driving the Last Spike”). When they toured behind the album, Collins sang with an in-ear monitoring system, which he said allowed him to sing more effortlessly and not “fight” with the band’s sound. It also reduced his worry about the condition of his voice on tour, the first sign that aging was beginning to take its toll on him.

He went full solo in 1993, with a punishing work schedule that cost him his second marriage as well. His “Both Sides” LP, recorded by himself with no collaborators, was a very personal collection of songs, again focusing on lost love and failed relationships (“Everyday” and “Both Sides of the Story”). In 1996, he tried something new — The Phil Collins Big Band, an 18-piece jazz instrumental group born as a tribute to his early idol Buddy Rich. They played jazz festivals in Europe and elsewhere and released one live LP, “A Hot Night in Paris,” in 1998.

His final commercial success came with the music he wrote for the film soundtrack to the Disney animated film “Tarzan,” which included “Two Worlds,” “Strangers Like Me” and the award-winning “You’ll Be in My Heart,” which grabbed an Oscar and a Golden Glove for Best Original Song in 2000.

By 2000, a litany of health issues plagued his ability to perform, either on drums or on vocals. First it was a sudden hearing loss that lasted nearly three years; then he underwent upper neck surgery to relieve pain developed while drumming on tour in 2007. That led to chronic arthritis, which caused severe depression and, later, alcoholism. An infected foot caused a fall that resulted in nerve damage and required back surgery. On the rare occasions he took to the stage, he needed a cane or a chair, and looked mighty frail for a rock star. In 2021-2022, he reunited with Banks, Rutherford, Thompson and Stuermer for “The Last Domino?Tour,” which included Collins’s son Nic helping out on drums as Genesis bid farewell to live performances.

Collins was inducted into the Rock Hall as a member of Genesis in 2010, and now he’ll be inducted again on his own this year, one of only a handful of artists to be honored two or more times.

I saw Genesis in concert only once, in 1981, and it was an incredible evening of sound and light. I never did catch a Collins solo show — part of the Phil burnout syndrome, I suppose. But I definitely count myself a fan of most of his music, and I had fun compiling two playlists (see below) to separately highlight his work with Genesis as well as his solo stuff, both arranged chronologically.

Last week I came across a 2014 quote from Diane Birch, a talented but little known 43-year-old soul singer, who summarized Collins’s career in a way I find myself mostly agreeing with: “Collins walks a really fine line between being really cheesy and being really sophisticated. He can seem appalling, but at the same time, he has awesome production values and there’s a particular richness to the sound. It’s very proficient in the instrumentation and savvy about melodies. And he’s an insanely talented drummer.”

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Goodbye, please don’t cry, I will always love you

Posted on by brucehhackett

“I’ve never been offended by all the dumb blonde jokes people tell about me.  You know why?  It’s because I know I’m not dumb… and I also know I’m not blonde.“

This famous Dolly Parton quote succinctly captures her essence:  Keen self-awareness.  Genuine humility.  Positive attitude.  A wonderful sense of humor.

And now, it seems impossible, but it’s true. Dolly is gone.

This extraordinary woman, who has managed to shine in multiple disciplines (songwriting, singing, recording, performing, films, television, entertainment businesses and philanthropic endeavors), died Tuesday, August 25th, at age 80. As David Graham of The Atlantic put it: “During one of the most divisive eras in modern times, Parton was perhaps the only person in the U.S. who commanded universal affection. Her death leaves an absence that no contemporary cultural figure could dream of filling.”

I’ve written way too many obituaries on this blog since I started it in 2015, but this week I’m finding it especially challenging because Dolly Parton felt to many folks like one of those people who would always be with us. Her influence transcended generations, musical tastes and political lines. It seems that everyone loved her.

The outpouring of grief and loss and earnest tribute these past few days has been pretty much unprecedented. Her close friends, compatriots and collaborators in the music industry have bared their hearts and souls, of course, as have celebrities in film, politics, community outreach and other professions.

“We are all crushed here at our house,” said Vince Gill. “One of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard was when Dolly and I sang that last note of ‘I Will Always Love You’ the year we performed it on the CMA Awards [in 1995].”

“A world without Dolly doesn’t seem possible, or real, or right,” said Taylor Swift. “She gave us someone to look up to while encouraging us to be who we are as individuals.”

Even British art rocker Peter Gabriel was moved to comment. “Maybe the Smoky Mountains should now have their own giant Rushmore-like carving of their own daughter, Dolly – the little girl who grew up to become the Queen of America.”

The public at large, too, have been crying their eyes out for this truly beloved woman and the kind, selfless way she lived her life. In Nashville, where she has lived for six decades, there’s already a move afoot to rename the airport as Dolly Parton International Airport, and I have little doubt that’ll happen. One man on social media called for a national day of mourning, adding, “We need a Dolly Revolution. Let’s Make America Kind Again.”

In front of Parton’s Nashville estate this week

As much as she accomplished in the entertainment industry, she is being lauded much more for her generosity, her contagious bright light, her inspiring words and actions. A motivational speaker and life coach named Krista Demcher summed it up succinctly in a social media post Thursday morning:

“Imagine spending 80 years on the planet writing more than 3,000 songs, winning 11 Grammys and 10 CMAs, having 55 Top Ten hits, an Emmy and countless other nominations, and at the end of your life, no one talks about that. Instead, they talk about the kind of person you were; how you loved others well, how you stayed true to yourself, how you were generous and would champion others, and how you inspired others to do the same. If that’s not the goal, then I don’t know what is.”

I’d like to tip my hat to a writer named Bill Friskics-Warren, who wrote an exceptional tribute to Parton in The New York Times, published less than 24 hours after she passed away. Here are a few passages:

“Stylistically, Ms. Parton’s music ran the gamut: mountain bluegrass and soul-inflected countrypolitan, disco-era pop and covers of classic rock touchstones written by Neil Young and Led Zeppelin — all of it rendered indelible by her irrepressible spirit and alternately keening and gossamer soprano drawl.”

“Ms. Parton cannily exploited — and transcended — rural stereotypes and kitsch to fashion a down-home chic entirely her own. (‘A country girl’s idea of glam,’ she called it in the 2007 song ‘Backwoods Barbie.’) In the process, she became an international celebrity who headlined stadium tours, starred in Hollywood movies, built a business empire and appeared on the covers of Rolling Stone and Playboy magazines.  Her at times girlish soprano notwithstanding, she was anything but the ‘dumb blonde’ invoked in the title of her 1966 single.

“‘I’ve created this and played it up — the makeup, the whole persona,’ Ms. Parton said, alluding to her plastic surgeries as well as her colloquial Dollyisms. ‘But this isn’t all I am. It’s not even most of what I am. Hopefully, people can see beneath the hair to know there’s a brain, see beneath the boobs to know there’s a heart, and see behind all the other stuff to know there’s some talent.”

Parton in 1982

If you’re looking for proof that Dolly Parton is not a “dim bulb,” as she might put it, there’s a revealing story about what happened — or what could have happened, but didn’t — with one of her most famous songs.

In 1973, Parton wrote “I Will Always Love You,” which was meant as a fond tribute to her friend and singing partner, Porter Wagoner, with whom she was amicably ending a seven-year professional collaboration.  Dolly recorded it herself, and then watched as it soared to #1 on the Hot Country charts (although it didn’t even make the Pop charts).

None other than Elvis Presley let it be known that he loved the song and wanted to do his own version.  He was all set to record it when Presley’s manager, Colonel Tom Parker, told Parton that it was customary for songwriters to give up half of the publishing rights to Presley for any song he recorded.  While others had gladly agreed to this just to have Elvis sing their song, Parton ended up politely declining.

“I said, ‘I’m really sorry, I just can’t do it,'” she recalled years later, “and I cried all night.  I was still relatively new in the business, and I mean, it was like, ‘Oh, my God, it’s Elvis Presley.’  And other people were saying, ‘You’re nuts. It’s Elvis Presley.’  But I said, ‘I just can’t do that.’ Something in my heart said, ‘Don’t do that.’  And I just didn’t do it. Of course, he would have done a killer rendition…but anyway, so he didn’t.  Then, when Whitney Houston’s version came out years later, I made so much money from it, I could’ve bought Graceland!”

Whitney Houston and Dolly Parton at the 1994 Grammy Awards

Houston’s version of “I Will Always Love You,” released in 1992 on the film soundtrack for “The Bodyguard,” spent an incredible 14 weeks at #1 on the Pop charts, bringing the song to an exponentially wider mainstream audience than Parton’s original had achieved.  It played a large part in turning her into one of the wealthiest songwriters in music history.

And that’s merely the most famous of the thousands of songs she has written since breaking into show business in 1966, earning her a much-deserved spot in the Songwriters Hall of Fame.  “Writing’s just as natural to me as getting up and cooking breakfast,” she said in 2002. “I ain’t never far away from a pencil and paper or a tape recorder. I write every day, even when I’m on a plane, in the tub or on the bus. It burns in me. It’s my way of channeling my feelings and my thoughts, the things I see, the people I care about. I think my head would explode if I didn’t get some of that stuff out.”

Full confession:  I’ve never been much of a country music fan myself.  I’m often amused or touched by the lyrics, but pure country music is simply not my cup of tea. Consequently, my knowledge of and appreciation for Parton’s recorded catalog has until recently been limited to her most well-known songs, particularly 1977’s “Here You Come Again” (the engaging Barry Mann-Cynthia Weil tune that marked her first appearance in the mainstream Top Ten), her perky 1981 #1 international hit “9 to 5” from the hit film comedy, and “Islands in the Stream,” the 1983 chart-topping duet with Kenny Rogers.

Over the past 25 years or so, my wife and two daughters have become big fans of country artists, and since moving to Nashville in 2023, I’ve felt inexorably drawn to give the genre more attention.  Although I suspect I’ll always be a rock and roll guy at heart, I have broadened my horizons to examine and eventually embrace many country songs, including several of Dolly’s.

In particular, I’m kind of obsessed over “Jolene,” a marvelous tune she wrote in 1973 whose narrator worries about a gorgeous woman who has been making eyes at her new husband.  “Please don’t take him just because you can,” the lyrics implore, and that sentiment rang true with millions of country fans who sent it to #1 on the country charts.  Even Rolling Stone ranked “Jolene” #214 on its list of “the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time.”

Beyond her voluminous recorded catalog of more than 55 solo albums and another dozen LPs with Wagoner, Parton has also impressed me with her film appearances, especially her hilarious 1980 debut in “9 to 5,” where she steals the movie with her portrayal of secretary Doralee Rhodes, and her award-winning turn as the madam in 1983’s “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.”  As in nearly every television performance or interview you can find on YouTube, Parton absolutely lights up the screen with her affable, cheery disposition.

Jane Fonda, Parton’s co-star in “9 to 5,” had this to say about her this week: “Dolly was simultaneously a naughty, playful southern gal from the hollows of Tennessee and a deep, soulful thinker who could see through people right down to their true selves. She was many things…lyricist, songstress, player of many instruments, writer, prankster, visionary, loyal friend. Dolly will always be with us because she was so present, so powerful, so generous and playful that she is woven into all our lives and hearts forever.”

Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin and Dolly Parton with Dabney Coleman in “9 to 5”

Parton’s gentle philosophy of inclusion, acceptance and tolerance for all people led her to take some brave stands along the way. She firmly declined to get involved in political matters, but her hardscrabble childhood, which included being ostracized by classmates for her rough-around-the-edges clothing, led her to embrace the have-nots and ridiculed of society. She stood up for the LGBTQ+ community by writing and singing “Travelin’ Thru,” the Oscar-nominated song from “Transamerica,” the 2005 movie about a transgender woman seeking to connect with her son. In 2017, Parton collaborated with Miley Cyrus, her goddaughter, to record “Rainbowland,” a tribute to gay pride and liberation.

Said Parton, “I don’t believe that we should criticize and judge other people. I think we should be accepting and loving. We are all God’s children. We are who we are, and we should be allowed to be who we are. I just think that we should be more loving, more caring. We are who we are. If you’re gay, you’re gay. If you’re straight, you’re straight, and you should be allowed to be, you know, how you are, and who you are.”

Brandi Carlile, the openly gay superstar, said this week, “Even before I ever met her, I loved her because she took a risk and accepted me (and all of us) for being gay in a time where she didn’t need to say anything. She has been asked to comment and speak on many things over the years, choosing only to speak on that which brings love and mercy to real people, and shutting down any line of questioning that doesn’t. She never wavered on accepting anyone for who they were.”

Dolly appearing with Johnny Carson in 1977

Parton’s self-deprecating sense of humor has served her well, particularly in regard to what she called her “substantial bosom.” As a guest on “The Tonight Show” in the late ’70s, she burst out laughing when Johnny Carson said of her outfit, on the air, “I’d give up a year’s salary for one peek under there!” She always took such comments in stride, and often told jokes of her own. A classic: “I was always a feminist but I never burned my bra.  I was afraid it would take the fire department four days to put it out!”

Comedian John Caponera related this funny anecdote yesterday. “In 1995, I was picked to play Dolly’s love interest in a situation comedy called ‘Heavens to Betsy.’ They filmed six episodes but the show never made it to air. There was one episode where there was a scene that called for me to make out with Dolly. That’s right, I made out with Dolly Parton! Am I bragging? Hell yeah!”

What a remarkable ride she has had — “from the back hills of Tennessee to the Hollywood Hills,” as she put it in 2017. She was born Dolly Rebecca Parton in 1946, the fourth of 12 children brought up in a one-room cabin near the hardscrabble hamlet of Pittman Center in eastern Tennessee, where her father worked the land and her mother struggled to raise the family while instilling in Dolly her love of music and folklore.  Raised in the Church of God where her grandfather pastored, Parton first sang in church at age 6 and started playing guitar and writing songs at age 8.

Dolly Parton in 1966

Appearances on local radio and TV programs eventually caught the eye of industry folks, and upon graduation from high school, she moved to Nashville and signed with Combine Publishing.  Several of her earliest compositions (“Put It Off Until Tomorrow” and “Fuel to the Flame”) became Top Ten country hits, and still others were recorded by major country names like Kitty Wells and Hank Williams Jr.

Parton was always reverential about the artists who so influenced her at an early age.  “Kitty Wells was the first and only Queen of Country Music, no matter what they call the rest of us now.  She was a great inspiration to me as well as every other female singer in the country music business.  In addition to being a wonderful asset to country music, she was a wonderful woman.”

When Monument Records signed Dolly as a recording artist at age 20, it was initially as a bubblegum pop singer, but when that didn’t pan out, and her country songs achieved notoriety as covered by others, she was given the chance to record “Hello, I’m Dolly,” her debut as a country singer.  It didn’t take long for Wagoner, an established country star with multiple #1 hits to his credit, to offer her a regular spot on his weekly syndicated TV gig “The Porter Wagoner Show,” which, at its peak, was reaching three million viewers in 100 markets.

Dolly with Porter Wagoner in 1970

As she and Wagoner scored big with a dozen collaboration albums during this period, Parton aimed her ambitions higher, persevering in the face of reluctant record company people to record solo albums and establish a name for herself outside of her association with Wagoner.  To his credit, Wagoner supported her efforts, both financially and as a friend.

Dolly was a firm believer in pursuing your dreams. “Find out who you are and do it on purpose. And do it with purpose,” she was famous for saying. “Don’t ever sacrifice who you are, your principles and your morals and your values, to just try to get ahead in business. It ain’t worth it.”

Her hard work paid off.  Between 1970 and 1990, Dolly Parton racked up a staggering total of 40 Top Ten country singles, including an incredible 22 reaching #1. Her track record on the Country Album charts during that same 20-year span was nearly as impressive, registering 16 Top Ten albums. From 1990 onward, she managed to maintain her album chart residency, putting 11 LPs in the Country Top Ten, but her singles no longer made much of a ripple.

Linda Ronstadt, Emmylou Harris and Dolly in 1987

Among her many collaborative efforts through the years was a hugely successful project with Linda Ronstadt and Emmylou Harris for an album called “Trio” in 1987, which reached #6 on Pop charts, and sparked an encore, “Trio II,” in 1999. Hearing those three voices harmonizing on tracks like Parton’s “Wildflowers,” Alan O’Bryant’s “Those Memories of You” and especially Neil Young’s “After the Gold Rush” will send shivers up your spine.

In 2000, when asked about the ups and downs of her career, Parton said this: “I’ve been as poor as anyone can be, so I had everything to gain and nothing to lose. So I just kind of work without fear because it’s fun for me. If I fail, it’s no big deal. If something don’t work, I’m not afraid of failure, because to me, I never feel like a loser. Even when I’ve lost, I feel like I’m winning because I’m earning some sort of experience I can use somewhere else. But I have a good attitude. I work hard at being happy. I really enjoy my life. I’m happy because I get to make a living at what I love to do.”

Beginning in the late ’80s, Parton began focusing much of her attention on establishing Dollywood, the amusement theme park in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, and the Dollywood Foundation, which supports and raises millions of dollars to help with educational and health-related charities, particularly in her home state of Tennessee.  “I always thought that if I became successful at what I had started out to do, that I wanted to come back to my part of the country and do something great, something that would bring a lot of jobs into this area,” she said.

Particularly notable has been her literacy awareness program, Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library, sparked by her devotion to her father, who couldn’t read nor write.  The program seeks to instill a love for books and a yearn to learn how to read at a young age by donating one book every month to each enrolled child.  The Imagination Library currently counts three million children as registered members, and has donated more than 300 million books throughout the US, Canada, the UK and Australia.

“Everywhere I go these days, the kids call me ‘the book lady,’” Parton said.  “The older I get, the more appreciative I am of the ‘book lady’ title.  It makes me feel more like a legitimate person, not just a singer or an entertainer.  It makes me feel like I’ve done something really worthwhile with my life and with my success.”

Indeed. A woman on social media wrote this week, “My seven-year-old daughter heard me say Dolly Parton died, and she got visibly very sad. I said, “Honey, I didn’t know you knew Dolly Parton.” She said, “Well, I didn’t know her, really, but she sent me books.” Wow. Now, that’s a legacy!

Parton and her husband of 52 years, Carl Dean (who died in 2025), never had children.  “I’ve never been fortunate enough to get pregnant, so I just feel God didn’t mean for me to have kids,” she said.  “So I guess I just look at everybody else’s children as mine, and I reach out to help kids in every way I can.”

In recent years, she conceded that people would tease her a bit about her cosmetic surgery, but in her self-effacing way, she always had a ready response: “I don’t think I’ve ever been a natural beauty, so I try to make the best of everything. It takes a lot of money to look this cheap! If I see something sagging, bagging or dragging, I’ll get it nipped, tucked or sucked!”

Her induction into the Country Music Hall of Fame back in 1999 was a foregone conclusion, but many people were scratching their heads when she was selected in 2022 for induction in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. She had occasionally stuck her toe into non-country music waters on startling covers of The Temptations’ “My Girl,” Bob Dylan’s “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right,” The Four Tops “I Can’t Help Myself,” Petula Clark’s “Downtown,” Cat Stevens’ “Peace Train” and Smokey Robinson’s “The Tracks of My Tears,” but even Parton herself felt uncomfortable being lauded by the Rock Hall.

“I didn’t feel like I’d done enough to deserve that,” she said. When the Rock Hall refused her request to rescind the honor, Parton said to herself, “Well, I guess I’m going to have to do a rock album!” She approached a couple dozen rock legends about helping her record some rock classics, and they all enthusiastically jumped at the chance: Elton John, Debbie Harry, Sting, Ann Wilson, John Fogerty, Stevie Nicks, Peter Frampton, Joan Jett, Michael McDonald, Pat Benatar and more can be heard on “Rockstar,” released in 2023 as her final LP, and it reached #3 on the Pop charts, her best showing ever on that listing. Critics called it “monumentally hideous, yet strangely glorious” and wryly described it as “the millennium’s most expensive karaoke party.”

Said McDonald this week: “Few musicians have had their compositions transcend all genre, seen their artistry touch so many hearts worldwide and stayed at the top of their game as a performer for 60-plus years. She was a superstar who somehow managed to live a life of quiet dignity in the midst of it all.”

Sir Paul McCartney, who recorded “Let It Be” with Parton, was moved this week to say, “She was so bubbly and full of life. It’s difficult to take in the news that she has passed. Her songwriting, her singing and her philanthropy were unrivaled in the world of country music, and the music world in general. She was a very clever business woman who understood the value of her music and, most importantly, the effect that she had on the people of the world. There was no greater honour for me than to have her sing my song ‘Let It Be.’ Thanks, Dolly. You were the best.“

Dolly in 2015

When she was in her 70s, people used to ask Parton, “Why don’t you retire?” Her reply:  “And do what?  What does that even mean?  I always count my blessings more than I count my money.  For me, it’s about the art.  I love the job.  I love to work.”

But her health issues finally caught up with her. She’d struggled years ago with endometriosis, had a hysterectomy in the 1980s and, more recently, had problems with her immune and digestive systems. This month, it was a short bout with cancer that proved to be too much for her.

I’ll leave it to Parton’s longtime friend Reba McEntire to have the last words: “Dolly, thank you for all the wonderful things you did for us here on earth. You gave us your love, your music and so much with your huge, huge heart. There will never ever be another you. We will remember and cherish every memory and every note you ever played and sang. Thank you, Lord, for Dolly. She’s gonna have such a blast in heaven, singing all her favorite songs with her family and friends who have gone on before her.”

R.I.P., Dolly. What a void you’ve left behind.

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The Spotify playlist of 42 songs I’ve assembled reflect my personal preferences from her substantial catalog, arranged chronologically by date of release. If you’ve been a longtime Dolly Parton fan, no doubt you’ll question some of my choices (or, more accurately, the ones I didn’t choose…)