Nicola Meighan's verdict: five stars
A supreme being with ivory tresses; a subject of global faith and devotion; a paragon of divine simplicity: wise and heavenly and righteous. But enough about Dolly Parton, let's talk about God.
The rhinestone cowgirl did so, and then some, in Glasgow's star-spangled charm offensive - bigging up the ways of the lord ("I think he understands me; I certainly hope he does"), amid tales of her country-folks back home, and her childhood in the Smoky Mountains. But we'd do well to remember that this is a woman who has created herself in her own image, irrespective of him upstairs, and she lives by her own rules, too.
Loading article content
"Let me hear you say Amen!" she commanded, hammering a glittering church organ beneath a stained-glass backdrop - the only country-soul evangelist that some of us will ever need - before launching into a raucous-gospel rendition of Bon Jovi's Lay Your Hands On Me. There were many such kitsch yet strangely revelatory moments in Dolly's hyper-sequinned show: the sense of disbelief at seeing her in front of us; the communal rapture for rodeo-pop hymns like Islands in the Stream and Jolene; the audience ringing out like a choir for a candle-lit I Will Always Love You.
Dolly's spirit of female empowerment coursed through the set, which celebrated her new album, Blue Smoke, among old favourites and greatest hits, from the matriarchy-championing Coat of Many Colors, to the sisterhood call-to-arms of 9 to 5 - an anthem for the unsung woman, and one of many crowning moments in a career that's spanned nigh-on five decades and 100 million record sales, and all from the confines of a silver-fringed catsuit. What a way to make a living.