Next: The Conway Twitty Blow up Doll?

September 1^st – There’s something quite creepy about…no, not creepy, slightly nauseating about how the music business can sometimes work; unfortunately most of it happens in America and in the Country and Western end of the market. I figure, for me, the reason this sticks out more than others, and I’d also figure it goes on in all strata’s of the biz, is the message they endeavour to convey; family, lurve, down-home values, grits, caring for your sick dog, cat, guinea pig…and all wrapped up in nasal whine and glottal sob that, supposedly, tugs at the heart strings and connects with the real-life values of the performer (‘cos, you know, I wander around in this cowboy suit all the time, pardner). It’s like the musical equivalent of that catch-all phrase, their loved ones that’s used by both meeja and politician alike as a get-out phrase for the death of a mother, father, daughter, son or soldier; we’re not an individual, we’re a loved one. From that lead in, I’ll go to the crux of the chat, not too much detail or you’ll be throwing up, but enough to illustrate where my squirm-gland is located.

On this day in 1935, Conway Twitty was born, a name you might just have heard of in the dim recesses of pop history. He was a soft-pop singer who achieved major success in the charts, a measure of how popular; Mr. Twitty had 55 number one hits…55… Now some may say, unkindly, that was mainly because the competition was pretty useless…not me you understand, but others. Pop music and chart hits were in their infancy back then but, even so, 55; not bad. His style was sob-country, hard-done -by religious schmaltz and soft-pop songs that endeared him to the white Southern audience as well as finding him an MOR following in other countries. It’s Only Make Believe is one single of his that you may well know…?

My hopes, my dreams come true, my life, I’d give for you.

My heart, a wedding ring, my all, my everything.

My heart I can’t control; you rule my very soul.

My only prayer will be,

Some day you'll care for me,

But it’s only make believe.’

Got it now? Thought so. That kind of schmaltz. Which was surprisingly very popular given that the male role model of the time was of a boozing, smoking, womanising, working guy who wanted his dinner of the table at 18.00, his pub-time uninterrupted, his sex in bed of a Saturday night at 23.30 (on the dot) and who’s idea of foreplay was taking his trousers all the way off…nothing changed much, has it? Mr. Twitty had a good career mapped out well into advancing age; unfortunately he didn’t make it past 59. These things happen (more later) and it became obvious over the ensuing years that the family felt the loss of their loved one quite deeply.

Deeply as in deep disagreements and unseemly squabbling over the sharing out of his estate between his four wives and his four children as well as how his legacy should be managed and distributed which led to law suits and several versions of name calling before the rights to use his name, music and image was decided upon, the four children and some grandchildren gaining the rights to leech their futures off’f…sorry, to perpetuate his stardom.

Now?

Well, now, his earning potential has stretched well beyond his decease and the management of his perpetuated corpse has reached parts even Beelzebub couldn’t quite manage. Posthumous recordings of duets with the likes of Anita Cochrane, made possible by splicing together his voice from old recordings (even old interviews) has led to him being marketed as a possible singing partner for any other duet possibility and he’s not alone in this wizardry. Patsy Cline, Jim Reeves, Nat King Cole, they’ve all been pillaged in this way. I guess when they perfect the hologram they’ll be back out on tour. Mr. Twitty’s songs, performances and interviews are subject to release by his loved ones (probably for a fee) and on his website his merchandise, all 28 pages of it, hosts such treasures as the Conway Twitty Cook Book, the Conway Twitty Storybooks, Conway Twitty ‘T’ shirts (no doubt to wear when he, too, joins the Hologram All-Star Deceased C&W Tour Package). Conway Twitty memorabilia, together with Conway Twitty albums new and old are also available.

All of this careful marketing and mining of a singer who’s been dead for 20 years is backed by twee tales of his kindness to animals and his reverence of family… Worthy of family support.

For me the most important thing to come out off all this is that when Mr. Twitty died in 1993 his death was caused by an abdominal aortic aneurysm. Everyone over 55, certainly over 60 needs to book into their surgery and have a scan to detect this possible problem; really. The check takes all of 30 seconds to do, has no side-effects (apart from a sticky tummy…settle down out there…) and gives you an answer then and there which will, if you’re affected by it, SAVE YOUR LIFE. So get on with it, and thank your lucky Twitty.