Dolly Parton

Run, Rose, Run                                                                                                  Out Friday

Rating:

Damon Albarn

Barbican, London

Rating:

Dolly Parton was never very likely to take lockdown lying down.

Already a country music legend, a theme- park owner and the founder of a charity that has given countless books to children, she is now a million-dollar backer of vaccine research, and – at the age of 76 – a novelist.

Her first novel, published next week and co-written with James Patterson, is the tale of a young woman who moves to Nashville with dreams of being the next Dolly Parton.

Called Run, Rose, Run, it has inspired Dolly to make a record of the same name. It is her 48th studio album.

It’s a lot better than the 47th, A Holly Dolly Christmas, which received one star here, and that was because I was feeling generous.

She has now gone from bad to middling. Half ambling country rock, half bustling bluegrass, all written by Dolly, these songs struggle to take off.

Only two out of 12 deserve to be remembered. One is Demons, a duet with Ben Haggard. The son of Dolly’s old mate Merle, Ben is young enough to be her grandson, but they make a bittersweet ballad feel real.

The other is an anthem, Woman Up (And Take It Like A Man). The title may make you groan, but the song may well win you over because it expresses Dolly’s spirit.

Otherwise, the highlight comes when she slips in a snippet of Amazing Grace and leaves you hoping that she’ll make a gospel album.

It can’t be easy being the manager of Damon Albarn.

What were you thinking of doing next, Damon? ‘Oh you know – a solo tour with some classical musicians and me on the piano, doing all my Icelandic stuff.’ Er, OK, maybe throw in a little Blur and Gorillaz too. ‘God, no! Are you mad?’

Ten minutes into this gig, even a buoyant heart is sinking. The music is ambient to the point of being soporific, the stage so dark that Albarn’s face is lit only by the glow of his sheet music.

From that moment on, though, he somehow makes it work. The lights come on, the music warms up, and Albarn gets the audience giggling by larking around with a horn that’s about six feet long.

After 75 minutes he has gone from windswept folk to pensive jazz and pounding pub rock. He has played his Icelandic album, The Nearer The Fountain, More Pure The Stream Flows, and made you want to return to it.

He’ll be headlining the All Points East festival with Gorillaz in August. This was more like One Point North, and in its own way – strange, astringent, fearlessly wintry – it was a treat.