dolly done right
Sunday night was the big Dolly tribute. It was an awesome night, though nothing happened according to plan. I'd imagined a lively gathering of lots of invited friends, people from different parts of my life who are dear to me in different ways and completely foreign to each other. I had this nice little fantasy that all these folks would finally meet and come together under the loving umbrella of Dolly's virtual bosom...
But alas, it was not to be. SK was feeling under the weather and stayed home with water bottles and tea. WASPy had a family dinner. Big A had to study for the bar and refused to take a break. Mog, who said she'd come, simply didn't turn up at all. And everyone else failed to RSVP. Their loss.
It was just me and my very, very good friend (we'll call her Leo, cuz that's her sign) -- Leo's my oldest friend in Portland, possibly the oldest friend I keep up with period. We go all the way back to a mud puddle outside East Hall, September of 1993, my freshman year, Appalachian State University, Boone, North Carolina. A late summer storm had left the ground a squishy mess and Leo found me pacing slowly through, watching the muck squeeze between my toes. She thought I'd dropped something in, but I was just enjoying the mud. She joined me and the rest is history.
Leo is the most "country" person I know. Suffice it to say, when I'm around Leo, my accent sort of bubbles back to the surface. She was the absolute perfect company for a night of rowdy, country fun. The venue was totally packed -- 90% hot women -- it was a total dyke-fest-meat-market! Who knew?? Not me. The show was emceed by a very raunchy drag king and queen who started things off with a hilariously rendered lip-synch duet of Islands in the Stream. They get a C for the lip synching, but an A+ for the choreography, which was hilarious.
And thank you jesus, the bands didn't suck. Some were quite good, others stumbled along. But regardless, the audience seemed so genuinely excited about Dolly's music, every act was met with wild applause and truly open arms. It was a fucking blast. Leo and I, together, created a very Southern space for each other. I don't think I can articulate the feeling -- just know it was pretty awesome. I'm so glad she was there with me -- the whole night was like some inside joke we shared by virtue of our mutual Southerness. I love her for that.
Not only do Leo and I share Southerness, we share a certain mid-90's experience of dykiness that is mostly gone from the scene nowadays. I didn't realize it till the second act took the stage, fronted by a burly woman with a very butched-out, Amy Ray (you know, the hot one from the Indigo Girls) sort of vibe. Leo and I looked at each other as soon as this woman started playing her acoustic guitar and singing in her husky-throated voice -- we looked at each other and shared a brain in that moment. I think we both squealed. All these shared memories -- Indigo Girls shows, back in the day when it was still acceptable to like Melissa Etheridge, local dyke musicians on the scene in our college town, not the little gender-fucked punks we have around here (who are lovely in their own right) but good old fashioned burly dykes w/ feathery hair and acoustic guitars singing fucked up love songs. Leo said "Melissa Reeves!" and I said "Common Bond!" -- Two local dyke acts we loved 12 years ago. Thank god for Leo and thank god for burly dykes with feathery hair and acoustic guitars. Felt so at home, so nostalgic.
Oh, and best of all, that gorgeous, burly, feathery-haired woman with the husky voice and the acoustic guitar who reminded me so much of so many thing past -- she did an *ass* kicking version of Jolene. And, as promised, I went home happy.
But alas, it was not to be. SK was feeling under the weather and stayed home with water bottles and tea. WASPy had a family dinner. Big A had to study for the bar and refused to take a break. Mog, who said she'd come, simply didn't turn up at all. And everyone else failed to RSVP. Their loss.
It was just me and my very, very good friend (we'll call her Leo, cuz that's her sign) -- Leo's my oldest friend in Portland, possibly the oldest friend I keep up with period. We go all the way back to a mud puddle outside East Hall, September of 1993, my freshman year, Appalachian State University, Boone, North Carolina. A late summer storm had left the ground a squishy mess and Leo found me pacing slowly through, watching the muck squeeze between my toes. She thought I'd dropped something in, but I was just enjoying the mud. She joined me and the rest is history.
Leo is the most "country" person I know. Suffice it to say, when I'm around Leo, my accent sort of bubbles back to the surface. She was the absolute perfect company for a night of rowdy, country fun. The venue was totally packed -- 90% hot women -- it was a total dyke-fest-meat-market! Who knew?? Not me. The show was emceed by a very raunchy drag king and queen who started things off with a hilariously rendered lip-synch duet of Islands in the Stream. They get a C for the lip synching, but an A+ for the choreography, which was hilarious.
And thank you jesus, the bands didn't suck. Some were quite good, others stumbled along. But regardless, the audience seemed so genuinely excited about Dolly's music, every act was met with wild applause and truly open arms. It was a fucking blast. Leo and I, together, created a very Southern space for each other. I don't think I can articulate the feeling -- just know it was pretty awesome. I'm so glad she was there with me -- the whole night was like some inside joke we shared by virtue of our mutual Southerness. I love her for that.
Not only do Leo and I share Southerness, we share a certain mid-90's experience of dykiness that is mostly gone from the scene nowadays. I didn't realize it till the second act took the stage, fronted by a burly woman with a very butched-out, Amy Ray (you know, the hot one from the Indigo Girls) sort of vibe. Leo and I looked at each other as soon as this woman started playing her acoustic guitar and singing in her husky-throated voice -- we looked at each other and shared a brain in that moment. I think we both squealed. All these shared memories -- Indigo Girls shows, back in the day when it was still acceptable to like Melissa Etheridge, local dyke musicians on the scene in our college town, not the little gender-fucked punks we have around here (who are lovely in their own right) but good old fashioned burly dykes w/ feathery hair and acoustic guitars singing fucked up love songs. Leo said "Melissa Reeves!" and I said "Common Bond!" -- Two local dyke acts we loved 12 years ago. Thank god for Leo and thank god for burly dykes with feathery hair and acoustic guitars. Felt so at home, so nostalgic.
Oh, and best of all, that gorgeous, burly, feathery-haired woman with the husky voice and the acoustic guitar who reminded me so much of so many thing past -- she did an *ass* kicking version of Jolene. And, as promised, I went home happy.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 9:11 AM
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