A veteran country broadcaster mixes memoir with anecdotes and corny jokes.
House, a nationally syndicated country DJ, has also written more than 40 songs recorded by country artists and has supplied jokes and scripts for numerous country awards shows. In the incestuous world of country music, he’s a well-connected member of the family, and he shares some tales here that he never could on air (including one about Waylon Jennings driving with two kinds of blow). The author also tells some apocryphal tall tales—one about a roadie and another about a conniving couple named Buddy and Julie, apparently no relation to the Millers, recording artists who are married. “Nearly everyone I know in the music business is nice,” he writes, and he’s nice in turn to almost everyone, including Garth Brooks (“a genius at marketing [who] has figured out how to sell the same twenty songs over and over in different packages”), Kenny Rogers (“the Kenmeister”), Pam Tillis (“supernaturally talented”), Ray Stevens (another “genius”) and the Oak Ridge Boys (“unique and wonderful people—gentle, caring and fascinating. And they are stunning showmen”). House also discusses Taylor Swift, who was initially so appreciative but then once gave him the brush off. He also doesn’t much care for Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks—though few country insiders do. A typical passage: “Tanya Tucker has no editing button. If it occurs in her head, it’s gonna come spilling out her piehole. I think she’s hilarious because of that one fact. She’s also hell on wheels.” A typical joke: “I always think of Dolly [Parton] whenever I visit the Great Pyramids. I don’t know why, I just do. They’re enormous. The pyramids, that is.”
House doesn’t take himself, country music or his book too seriously. Pass.