Just a Tennessee gal in Louboutins, Dolly makes the Mann her own

Dumb as a fox, Dolly Parton has always been a sly, smart performer, whose self-deprecating manner beats you to the punch with every possible joke. The now-70 Locust Ridge, Tenn., native could've become just a hollow brand when she met with massive fame in the mid-1970s - investing her time in successful projects such as her Dollywood theme park, and producing television shows such as NBC's Dolly Parton's Coat of Many Colors.

Instead, the country-music queen has made certain that each of her studio albums, such as her coming 43rd, Pure & Simple, features her own songs. And, rather than chill on her laurels, the composer, singer, and multi-instrumentalist brought out her tight, longtime backing trio Wednesday night at the Mann Center, playing several sturdy tunes from that new album, along with familiar hits and choice covers.

The first thing to know about any Parton show is that Dolly talks - a lot. Entering to the sound of crickets and strains of "Hello Dolly," Parton chatted about God, the Great Smoky Mountains, her chest, dressing up for her audience, embellishing everything from low-cut tops to dulcimers and pianos with rhinestones, and the story behind her first big smash, 1974's "Jolene" - all within the first 10 minutes.

Joking about "Jolene's" inspiration - the bank teller that her young husband had eyes for - Parton said, "I've been to the bank many times with that song, so thanks," before tackling the low-slung country rumbler with an angry, quivering sadness in her voice. Her vocals - powerful and clear or whispered and hushed - have long been her calling card. In the latter style, on old songs such as the soulful bluegrass ballad "The Grass Is Blue" and new ones such as the sublime "Pure & Simple" and the brushed-denim rocker "Outside Your Door," Parton sounded a bit like a less-unhinged yet dramatically emphatic Kate Bush.

Just a homesick Tennessee lass in Louboutins, she sailed through the rickety, prayerful country of John Wright's "Precious Memories," "My Tennessee Mountain Home" and "Smoky Mountain Memories." She talked her way through the gospel-ish "The Seeker" and into the bluesy "Applejack," then roared through the latter's chorus. She played fiddle, banjo, saxophone, dulcimer, piano, and electric guitar (on a crisp "Baby, I'm Burning"), and delivered her most nuanced vocals on the sinister, bluesy "Those Memories of You" from her famed Linda Ronstadt/Emmylou Harris Trio sessions. She playfully riffed through her softly disco-fied country smashes such as "Here You Come Again," but saved her vocal power and impassioned emotion for an unscripted encore: "Hello, God." Parton let loose with an honest sense of desperation, anger, and vulnerability, calling to mind the recent tragedies in Orlando. "We're so selfish, cruel and blind/ We fight and kill each other in your name, defending you/ Do you love some more than others?/ We're so lost and confused." That alone was worth the price of admission.