SHANIA TWAIN
I never wanted to be a celebrity, Shania says, leading her entourage to a fleet of SUVs. Women shouldnt be slaves to fashion, Shania asserts, after starring in a Revlon commercial. Double talk? Hypocrisy? Selling out? Hey! Who the hell cares? This gals got big tits, and shes Canadian, and Canada hasnt got many superstars. Except for Celine Dion and Ann of Green Gables, what other Canadian can you name? Half the planet saw her perform at this years Superbowl: singing, dancing, strutting around in a Darth Vader costume by Fredericks of Hollywood. Listening to this poem, youre probably thinking, oh, there he goes again: Picking on poor Shania just because shes a woman, or making fun of her because shes successful, that old Canadian resentment towards anybody who leaves the farm and actually makes it. Why doesnt this phony talk about something really poetic, like falling in love, or grief, or longing for death? Why not? Well, Ill tell you why not. This poems about Shania because Shanias a genuine poetic force, real poetic space, a muse. Oh sure, she may seem programmed and ridiculous:coming from Timmons, Ontario, but speaking in a Nashville drawl; married to a rich rock producer named Mut; making it with those corny country tunes then switching over to slick pop; putting exclamation points after half her seemingly braindead song titles: Up!; Im Gonna getcha Good!; That Dont Impress Me Much! But did you know Shania meditates two hours a day? That she grew up eating mustard sandwiches when money was tight, that she isnt impressed by phonies who think theyre Brad Pitt or comb their hair like Elvis? Obviously, theres real heart here, a heroic personality beneath the fake eye lashes and glitzy guitar hooks, a feisty all-Canadian gal whos not afraid to live her independence by moving to Switzerland and dressing like a trollop. So put your hands together for Shania Twain. A great singer. A great talent. A great Canadian.Tokyo Mon 02/24/03