She owned her own theme park (which I’ve visited). She made random movie cameos. There was even a bit of a joke that she was more plastic than skin and bone.

​But lemme tell you what, suckers. Dolly Parton is a friggin’ saint.

Released when she was just 29 and including only one song she didn’t write, the sheer variety and consistency of this compilation speaks volumes to the quality of her body of work (my dad would make a punchline here. Something about work done on her body. Shut up, dad). 

She shows herself a master of dark, mournful ballads (“Jolene,” “Corner Store), tender love songs (the indelible “And I Will Always Love You”), and unbridled country-western jubilance (“Coat of Many Colors,” “When I Sing For Him”). 

There’s not a bad track on here. And while I famously dismiss greatest hits comps, this one doesn’t have a bad second of music on it. Nothing seems out of place. It’s just pure Dolly, through and through, and that’s all it needs to be.

I’ve derided him as a Paul McCartney wannabe who was far more concerned with making soundtracks for music videos than writing good pop tunes.

But that’s not entirely fair. Nor is it necessarily true.

This is an unusual live album: after The Stranger made him a huge star, Billy released an album of live versions of his old songs to introduce new listeners to his back catalog. In the liner notes, he specifically mentioned that he wanted to focus on lesser-known cuts: which means no “Piano Man.” 

But there are several gems on here. “Captain Jack,” a deep cut from The Stranger is played with a heavy hitting energy that the studio version lacked—including a shouted final chorus. “She’s Got a Way About Her,” the lead track from his ill-fated first album , finds new life here—this version became a charting single, and for good reason. 

Even besides these standouts, the entire tracklist is filled with gems. The best songs from a talented young songwriter played with the conviction and power of a star performer. The songs are lifted from the murky swamp of “potential” and given the performances they deserve.

They were using a bunch of old records as decorations—hanging them on walls, using them as chargers for plates, and other unsavory treatment that no good record should be subjected to.

So I went through the stack ahead of time and saved these. 

Especially important is the punk classic Easter by the Patty Smith Group. An absolute gem of a record.

We all assumed this was little more than an indie rock album filled with catchy songs. And there are hundreds of those released a year, but we aren’t still talking about them. But there’s something about this record that won’t let go of you. The earworms, synth lines, funky-as-hell bass riffs, and disaffected post-punk vocals are a Trojan horse for some incredibly fun and heart-tugging tunes. “Smile like you mean it” isn’t exactly an original sentiment, but Brandon Flowers sings it with an earnestness that makes you want to cry. Then he hits you with this verse: “Someone is calling my name from the back of a restaurant / And someone is playing a game in the house that I grew up in / And someone will drive her around down the same streets that I did…”

The album isn’t always this intimate though. Much of it is wrapped in the same irony that their new wave and post punk progenitors utilized. After all, is there any earnest way to sing, “Don’t you put me on the backburner” or “I’ve got soul but I’m not a soldier”? If there is, would you even want to mean those lyrics?

Much of the album’s power is in Brandon Flower’s ability to flip from a bleeding poet to a snarky comedian to whom nothing is sacred. But if it weren’t for the band’s ability to craft exciting rock and roll around it, it’d be for naught. The band riffs on New Order and Duran Duran as much as it does the Rolling Stones, and each with equal conviction.

It’s worth mentioning that when I first bought this CD, I was disappointed that all of the songs didn’t sound like “Somebody Told Me.” What a fool I was.