find its way to our fans. No matter what
happens with all the radio or outlets or
whatever, it’ll make its way.”
Maines jumps in: “I felt the most
pride in our last album—maybe it was
worth the controversy. It was so per-
sonal and so honest; this album even
more so,” she says. “Our manager was
like, ‘Do you not care about a number
one?’ When you have achieved all
your dreams, everything else is sprin-
kled on top. I prefer my kids like me
than having a number one record. It
doesn’t mean that I won’t be grateful
when it happens.”
“It feels like gravy?” I venture. “I love
gravy!” all three say in unison.
This is who this band is. In every-
thing they touch, there is authentic-
ity. That word is so worn to tatters,
it has come to signify nothing. But
here are the Dixie Chicks reminding
us what it means to be honest, to
stand for something, to sing about
being kicked to rock bottom—and
then to find out that rock bottom has
a basement. That’s what authenticity
means. It means being brave. And
they’re reminding us that it matters.
That’s their goodness. That’s their
superpower.
When I realize that, I also realize that
of course they had to speak against the
war all those years ago. (A war that was
more ill-conceived than anyone could
have imagined in 2003.) They were
always this band. But I have to know, if
they knew how deep the fallout would
be, would they still have done it?
“Oh, that’s an interesting ques-
tion,” Maines says, pausing. “I have no
regrets, but the responsible part of me
doesn’t want to put people through
shit.” She looks at Strayer and Maguire.
“I feel like you might’ve said some-
thing smarter or different,” says Strayer.
“Well, I always wish I had said“I do not like when artists get on their
soapbox,” says Maines. Yet “the politics ofthis band is inseparable from the music.”Slinky Boots
Alexandre Vauthier boots. Details,
see allure.com/credits.