Free Country Music Broke My Brain by Gerry House Page A

for all that’s holy do not rent a bus and sing harmony with your kid in front of people for money. It’s not part of the normal order of things. It’s against the laws of nature.
    I see that comedienne (who’s had so many face-lifts she looks like a Picasso) with her daughter on TV, and I think at least they can spit at each other if they want to. Singing together requires some semblance of a loving relationship unless you’re in a church choir. Actually, we all know the ratio of choir rehearsals and affairs, but that’s for another discussion. I know it’s none of my business, but I recommend either quilting or Greco-Roman wrestling over singing together as mom and daughter.
    I’ve often heard doctors say that estrogen, ovaries, and a steel guitar are as deadly together as hard liquor and wing-walking. There are some things you just don’t do.
    However , if you go against all the good advice and common sense in the world and do decide to embark on a warbling career with one of your units, here’s what you do to keep the wheels turning: pick hit songs. Hit songs are always good because flop songs tend to make you more likely to stay at home a lot.
    Choose a hair color carefully. If you can’t make your music bigger and louder, then, by God, make sure your hairdo is. The most popular is something the color and consistency of molten lava—orange-red and flowing.
    And when things slow down a bit and nobody is paying as much attention as they used to, throw in a couple of near-death experiences. Choose one of you to tell how you “like to have died.” Then set out on a well-planned, eight- to ten-year See ’Em Before They Croak Tour.
    Fight offstage as much as possible. Do a lot of TV talk shows where you have dueling interventions. If somebody in the family starts telling the truth about some tragedy, always interrupt and say you had that first and it was much worse.
    The public is nothing if not a sucker for paying to see what can go wrong during a concert. Demolition derbies are popular for a reason, you know.
    I actually did a live, nationwide radio show with Wynonna and Naomi the Sunday night before Naomi announced she had hepatitis. She seemed good the night before, but that’s an insidious disease and dangerous. The timing did make it difficult for folks to not at least “wonder” if it was all on the level.
    Allyson and I actually went to that “final” concert of the Judds’. Last time together. Final moment to see them. They passed out little electronic candles so we could wave them good-bye. I did indeed seem to have the feeling they did a “good-bye” tour about every ten years. I’m confused and, frankly, quit keeping count after awhile. Every family has troubles; they just happened to make it the family business. The TV show on Oprah’s network was hilarious. Each week, they would end with a cliffhanger. Will Wynonna shove Mom into a concrete mixer? Tune in next week for The Edge of Nut.
    I think Wy called me a nut in one of her books. I had dinner with her the other night at a table full of showbiz types during an awards event. She and her new husband, Cactus Moser, had plopped down beside Allyson and me. Cactus was a member of a great group called Highway 101. A lot of hits came out of that band. I loved ’em and Cactus. Just two months after he and Wynonna got hitched in 2012, Cactus had a terrible motorcycle accident and lost a leg. Just horrible.
    Here’s the side of Wynonna I love: when Cactus’ name was announced to come onstage and receive an award, they called for her to join him. While helping Cactus slowly make his way toward the stage, she said, “Nope, this is his night.” With tears in her eyes, she stood by the side of the bright lights as her guy beamed like the Hollywood sign with his songwriting award.
    Underneath all that glamour and cool and “Juddness” beats the heart