You don’t, I suspect, say no to Dolly Parton, which is why the roll call of names on her new rock album is so ridiculous. She sings Let it Be with Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr, with Mick Fleetwood on drums and Peter Frampton on guitar; she has Debbie Harry and Stevie Nicks, Joan Jett and Judas Priest’s Rob Halford. And Elton John. It’s not just the ageing greats – Lizzo is there too, on Stairway to Heaven. The album, Rockstar, Parton’s 49th, started with her inauguration to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, which she initially felt unworthy of because she didn’t consider herself an artist in that genre. And so, at the age of 77, Parton became a rock star.
We meet in an expensive hotel in London where Parton has taken over the top floor. It is busy with assistants, bodyguards and publicists, though when I’m shown into a room where Parton, queenly, is to receive me – everything timed to the second – we are left alone. Not remotely grand, she is warm and funny, skilled at deflecting awkward questions with a joke. She is also luminous, as sometimes very famous people are, but with her it’s something else. Later, I realise it’s gratitude. “I’ve been grateful for every good thing ever happened,” she says. “God has always blessed me, surrounded me with good people. I pray that every day God will bring all the right things, all the right people, into my life.”
