Dolla’ Bin Ballin’: The Best of Conway Twitty

Nate Cope, Entertainment.

A brutal end to a marathon paper, rock, scissors tournament left me with an entertainment section to write. Having no budget to do anything, and with little to no idea what to write about, Twittya trip to Walmart left me with an age transcending idea. Vintage is always cool. Well sometimes, and Walmart has an entire bin dedicated to vintage at five bucks a pop, thus Dolla’ Bin Ballin’ was born. Three spin arounds and a close of the eyes provide endless random entertainment reviews for artists that haven’t seen the light of day in decades. So, for the first Dolla’ Bin Ballin’, chance provided a real humdinger. Ladies and Gentlemen…we give you…the best of Conway Twitty.

Upon opening my eyes and seeing Conway’s silver side burns, an uneasiness took over not felt since a weekend in Tijuana with Jiles. Immediately, images of seedy honky tonks occupied by cowboys guzzling Pabst Blue Ribbon underneath Confederate flags came to mind. Stereotypes aside, the real glaring problem was where the hell to find a CD player. Always wondering what that little slit in the dash of my ‘03 civic was, suddenly two plus two equals four and I was cruising down the road with steel guitars a-twangin’.

Conway’s songs all seemed to revolve around one central theme, “the Ladies.” Songs about loving ladies, seducing married ladies, begging for forgiveness from ladies, and ladies in tight jeans all dominate this silver side burned mega hunk’s greatest hits. Couple this with a voice as deep as the Dollar Bin itself, and Conway is more like a Country and Western super seducer.

I was particularly perplexed by one song, where Conway appears to give his special someone a birthday present by removing all the worry that he’d never cheat on her, “promises, promises.” Real nice gift from a man who either beds or cheats on a woman in every damn song. Seriously Twitty, just go to Kay Jewelers so at least she’ll have a keepsake to remember what a prick you were.

The 1970’s must’ve been a radically different time; like backwards world, as anyone who successfully gets lucky with this creep singing in the background is either dating someone hearing impaired or, well, dating someone hearing impaired. Lord only knows the endless number of butt slaps his background singers probably endured.

If art imitates life, and Conway was anything like his songs, he either had a sex addiction or was way over-compensating because he was in the closet. So with that, I’ll leave you with a final piece of wisdom straight from the mouth of Conway Twitty.

“Cowboy, remember there’s a tiger in them tight fittin’ jeans”

Final verdict on the Best of Conway Twitty- Confusing and Creepy!

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