have won 13 Grammy Awards, made
four albums, and sold over 30 million
copies are not the same as my eight-
year-old whining when he has to prac-
tice “Ashokan Farewell” on the violin.
After they stop laughing, Maines
explains: “For the last two years, we’ve
rehearsed a lot, but for the 14 years
before that, not so much,” she says,
alluding to the band’s extended break.
“We’ve all put in our 10,000 hours.”
“When I’m home, I want to play
things I don’t know how to play,” says
Strayer. “I’m trying to learn the piano,
or I’ll pick up a ukulele. I don’t really
know the chords, but you can figure it
out with your ear.” Or at least, she can—
Strayer already plays eight instruments.
“My husband got me a drum set two
years ago.”
“Really?” asks her sister.
“That’s not my forte,” says Strayer.
“You know how people will sayhe women first met in 1990.
Maines joined the band
in 1995 (replacing former
members Laura Lynch and
Robin Lynn Macy).
“Emily is the most...
responsible,” says Maguire.
“She chose that word very care-
fully,” Strayer says. “She’s saying that
I’m a square.”
“You cross the t’s and dot the i’s!”
If an interview lasts long enough, if
a certain level of comfort is achieved,
if there is enough prosecco, you will
eventually ask a really dumb question.
For me it is: “Do you guys rehearse
every day?”
Maines yelps. Maguire guffaws.
Strayer actually spits out her drink.
That’s a no?
“We’re like, ‘Emily, let. Go. Of. The.
Banjo. Unclench!’” says Maines.
Okay, okay, I get it. Musicians whosomething smarter!” Maines replies.
“But when I think back, it’s like that
movie Sliding Doors, right? Where
would we be today if I hadn’t said that?
That’s interesting. I really don’t know if
I would take it back.”
“Were you mad?” I ask, looking at
the other two women.
“For five seconds in the elevator,”
Strayer says.
“Really? You were mad?” Maines
looks shocked.
Oh, crap. I am making the Dixie
Chicks fight.
“It was that next day,” Strayer says.
“I said something. You don’t remember
that conversation?”
“I don’t remember you being mad.”
“Mad is not the right word, but I
remember being in the elevator, and I
was like, ‘I’m glad it wasn’t me.’ It was
more like scared-mad.”
“It was a bad situation,” says Maines.
They paved the way forwomen to walk onstage andoffer more than their looks.