Door buzzer. Dog starts howling. Out in the hall’s this guy wearing a decent suit and a hey-buddy smile. I shrug at him.
“?”
“Pardon the interruption, sir, but have you ever...”
“Wait. Aren’t you that guy? From Operation: Killwhitey?”
“No, no. I get that all the time. I like to say Jeff Probst looks like me.” Phony laugh. “Anyway, I was wondering if you’d ever...”
“Waitwaitwait. Are you selling something?”
“Er... yeah.”
“Door to door?”
“Yes. Do you mind?”
I think for a second. “No, actually. It’s sort of quaint.”
“Well, I’ll spam you later.”
We chuckle.
“Now that I’ve got your attention, I wanted to ask if you’d ever thought about a duet?”
“Sorry?”
“A duet? A song where you trade lines, or verses, with another sing...”
“You want us to..?”
“No, not me. You and...” And then I see her, the fair skin, the cheekbones, the silver hair.
“That’s Emmylou Harris!” She gives an aloof nod and immediately breaks eye contact. She's smacking chewing gum like she’s in an old j.d. flick. It’s kinda hot.“I’m glad you recognize her, that saves us a lot of time. Are you a big fan of Ms. Harris’ work?”
“Well...”
“No matter. Ms. Harris is a big fan of yours, and would love the opportunity to duet with you!”
“I... think there’s been a mistake. I don’t sing.”
“There’s never been a better time to start! And you know what they say: The true greats bring out the best in the people they work with. Performing with Ms. Harris is an opportunity not to be missed! You can realize levels of talent you only suspected...”
“You’re selling duets with Emmylou Harris?”
“Not just duets. Background fills, harmonies, whatever the situation calls for. There are a variety of packages available...”
“Did Mark Knopfler die or something?” There’s a very uncomfortable silence. Then the sound of gum smacking. “Um... no disrespect.”
He sighs. “We’ve done Mark Knopfler. And Willie Nelson, and Dolly Parton. And Johnny Cash and Linda Ronstadt and Steve Earle. Along with Sheryl Crow, Glen Campbell, and Lucinda Williams. Do you even know who these people are? How old are you?”
“35. And yeah...”
“Conor Oberst, you know him?”
“I have that record. I liked ‘Landlocked Blues’ better when it was ‘One Foot in Front of the Other.’”
“Still. Conor Oberst and Ryan Adams and Beck. Beck! The kids are crazy for Beck! Bob Dylan and Luscious Jackson and Vince Gill and George Jones and Trisha Yearwood and the Judds – that’s Wynona’s old group...”
“I’m 35. Not 13.”
“The Dixie Chicks, George Jones, Lyle Lovett, John Prine, Neil Young, Townes Van Zandt. These aren’t just credits, son, they’re references! Little Feat! Gillian Welch, Allison Krauss, Sam Bush.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Point is, if you’re anyone who’s anyone, Emmylou Harris has sung with you. The Chieftains! Midnight Oil!”
“Midnight Oil? Really?”
“Midnight Oil!”
“You’ve run out.”
“Chrissie Hynde! Wait, what?”
“You’ve run out of people for her to sing with. There’s no one left, so you’re...”
“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime!”
“Yeah, no, it’s pretty cool. But I really don’t know what I’d do with her. I mean, what? ‘Row row row your boat?’”
“I don’t have a rate for rounds, but, Emmy?” She rolls her eyes.
“Seriously, I’m not a musician, or I’d spring for it...”
“Give us a break, guy. This is tougher than it looks. We’ve been knocking on doors all day and it turns out most people already have a duet with Emmylou Harris. The entire fifth floor of your building’s sung with her at one time or another.”
“The creepy guy in 5E?”
“Twice. We’d rather not talk about it.”
“Well, try next door. They sing. Opera. And they’ve got a piano. I hear it through the walls.”
“Sucks to be you.”
“Yeah, well. Listen, I’ve got to get back in. The dog’s going nuts.”
“Perhaps a souvenir appearance with your pet?”
Slam.
tags: emmylou harris
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