Free Country Music Broke My Brain by Gerry House

great uses of a joke in music of all time. David once called me for a long conversation about what exactly scallops were. I wasn’t sure and he wasn’t, either. He likes them, but he’s a little sketchy about them. I feel the same way. What the hell are scallops anyway?
    There have been sister duets, sister trios, and even sister quartets, those foursomes of DNA that sound like angels, but in country music, there hasn’t been much success. Most of the family singin’ thing has faded in the past couple of decades. Donny and Marie even recognized that they had to each choose a format for their personalities, hence, “She’s a little bit country and he’s a little bit rock ‘n’ roll.” It’s that “Hey! If you hate rock ‘n’ roll, she’ll be singing country right after I’m done” plan.
    The father/daughter duos are few and far between and, frankly, always gave me the creeps. It’s one thing to sing with your offspring in the kitchen, but there’s something else about cheatin’, drinkin’, and heaven songs while staring into the eyes of Daddy. It’s a little too West Virginia for me.
    The Kendalls, Royce and Jeannie, were a father-daughter duo. Their big hit was “Heaven’s Just a Sin Away.” They seemed to handle it fine, but it sounds like massive therapy down the road to me. I know singers are playing a part. I know some who won’t sing a lyric because they think the audience will assign them that part. Reba always said, “I ain’t no hooker, but ‘Fancy’ is one of my favorite songs.”
    Pop and the Kid, however, can get uncomfortably close to being downright weird if you’re not careful. Jeannie Kendall always wore a little hat, too. It gave her a sort of ’40s movie/gun moll look that made it even more disturbing. I mean, wantin’ to hold somebody tight and be with them tonight is not what I want to hear from Daddy and his little girl. Think about it: “Heaven’s just a sin away?” With Daddy? I’m pretty sure there’s a book of rules against that.
    I’ve also seen a father and his teenage son and daughter take a shot at stardom. I think the problem is, the kids hated him and he loved them. All teenagers think their dads are dweebs. Who wants to watch “eye-rolling with banjos” onstage for an hour? Most teenagers can barely tolerate Dad for the fifteen minutes he asks them about their day. Imagine the soul-searing resentment of riding on a bus 24/7. Sure, it’s fun for us to watch, but it has that same uncomfortable feeling you get when you watch a preacher’s wife stare at her husband who is holding a press conference to announce he’s gay.
    All this aside, however, nothing beats the toxic combination of mother and daughter as a loving hillbilly couple. It’s that wonderful mix of twang, grandpa, beauty, and seething, boiling, red-eyed jealousy. Which, of course, brings us to . . . The JUDDS!
    If you really want to kick things up a notch, be sure and make the mom a stunner. A heart-stopping looker who demands to be in the spotlight. Then create a shorter, wider, full-backier daughter who can actually sing.
    The joy that particular mom and baby girl duo have brought to me over the years is incalculable. For off-the-charts drama and soap opera histrionics nothing beats As The Judds Twang. Mom twirls and sashays around onstage, dropping one-liners and life advice as if she’s Rodney Dangerfield and Dr. Phil all rolled up into one red-haired package. The daughter wails and moans and thrills and channels Elvis. Give her a biting sense of honesty and a battle of the bulge, and, friends, you’ve got yourself a hit-and-hate-making machine.
    For those of you taking notes and looking at your little sweetie singing like a bird in the kitchen, I beg of you, please don’t do it. Be a stage mother. Be a taskmaster. Be Joan Crawford, but