Dear Brooks & Dunn: An open letter
Brooks & Dunn at Xcel Energy Center
Photo by Nikki Miller
Dear Brooks & Dunn,
(Well, mostly Ronnie Dunn.)
I'm sorry I said all those nasty things about you.
As I've shown before, I have a tendency to say nasty things then put my foot in my mouth. I still think your show in St. Paul earlier this summer was kinda... meh. But then, I think a lot of shows by bands in huge arenas are kinda... meh. Even when they're shows by my favorite bands, like you. It's because I'm a snot-nosed little brat who thinks she's somehow entitled to seeing her favorite bands in intimate venues attended only by fans who do not annoy her. It's so predictable, this whole "too many people like them now and now I'm mad" steez. Pretty much as predictable as everything else I do and say.
(Imagine my sad puppy dog eyes now. I'm making them. See? My lips are turning down at the corners, the bottom lip poking out slightly and my eyes, well, I look like one'a them Precious Moments dolls they sell in Hallmark stores.)
Anyway, I'm glad you invited me to give your Last Rodeo tour another ride at Cheyenne's Frontier Days this weekend, and I have only two requests. I know, this is asking a lot at this point.
Number One. Don't beat me up. Some of my friends think I'm invited to your show only because you're going to beat me up. I'm bringing my boyfriend with me, but admittedly, he's not very tough, and would in fact probably kinda get a kick out of seeing me beat up by Brooks & Dunn.
Number Two. Will you pretty please play all ten songs off your debut album? And can I come sing with you for one of the easier ones, like umm... maybe "My Next Broken Heart"? Most definitely not on that last part? Okay, fair enough. I probably wouldn't remember all the words in front of a gigantic audience full of drunk cowgirls and cowboys anyway. But the first part? My twelve-year-old self would thank you. She'd probably even gift you with her most beloved bright purple silk shirt and bolo tie.
In closing, I'll note that Brooks & Dunn are likely not reading this Open Letter, but that's kinda what Open Letters are for anyway. Well, maybe Ronnie Dunn is, because he somehow stumbles across anything in which I write that Ronnie Dunn can suck it (see, I wrote that hoping you'd stumble across this again, so if you're reading this, hey!). But for all the rest of you reading this, I'd like to send a little Brooks & Dunn knowledge your way. For each of the twenty years that has comprised their long and fruitful career, now coming to a close only to usher in a new era of solo artist-dom, (though heavily weighted toward the first couple years of that career, duh - I was an early fan): Brooks & Dunn's Top 20 Songs.
Brand New Man
My Next Broken Heart
Boot Scootin' Boogie
Note, I had this single on tape. Its B-side was a remix of the song that began with "Get down. Get down. Get down. Boot scootin' boogie!" with weird effects on it. Look it up, it's a good 'un. I learned how to line dance to the A-side. I learned how to line dance faster, and like a robot, to the B-side.
I've Got a Lot to Learn
Hard Workin' Man
We'll Burn That Bridge
She Used to Be Mine
Ain't Nothing 'Bout You
Only In America
They played this song when Obama announced Biden as his running mate. Makes me feel better about my musical heroes than when ZZ Top sang that they were "just lookin' for some Bush." Yes, they did that at a fundraiser once, for that one guy I'd never want my musical heroes to be raisin' money for. Damn it, ZZ Top! Yeah folks, ZZ Top can do wrong. Hurts, I know.
Red Dirt Road
You Can't Take the Honky Tonk Out of the Girl
Play Something Country
You ever been to Cowboy Slim's in Uptown? Swear to god I went in there opening weekend and they were playing P. Diddy on the jukebox. Life imitates art doggone it.
Put a Girl in It
The YouTube comments to this song are kinda priceless - something about a coat hanger. Sad. Song really tears at your heartstrings, all jokes aside.
Honky Tonk Stomp
With Billy Gibbons, all things are forgiven. I don't mind y'all helped elect Bush. Nope, not at all. Love you, Billy Gibbons.
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