He'd woken up at , slid off his bed to the floor to say his morning prayers, which he's done daily since getting sober 10 years ago, dressed and fed the kids (Eggo waffles for Faith Margaret, 5; Raisin Bran for Sunday Rose, 7), bundled them into the family Audi, dropped them off at school, returned home, worked out, toweled off, got the clippers and bent down. He was within minutes of heading out the door to the Bridgestone Arena downtown, where he and his band were practicing, getting ready for his upcoming world tour to showcase songs from his eighth true solo album since arriving in the U. a six-string banjo), its first single, "John Cougar, John Deere, John ," was already Number One on the country charts, bringing his total Top 10 hit count since his first solo release in 1999 to a record-setting 35. But then, toenail clippers still in hand, he straightened up and a sudden back spasm hit him so hard he doubled over and shouted, "Oh, motherfucker!
"But I feel like if a guitar is in your possession, you're the current caretaker and your job is simply to take care of it.
The fact that they all drowned on my watch just was devastating to me." He drops his head. Nic was filming some pretty harrowing, abusive scenes last night, and she was telling me about them." As it happens, he's a big believer in the therapeutic value of crying.
Technically, he's a Kiwi, but he was raised in Australia, where his parents, Marienne and Bob, loved country music, always had Glen Campbell, Dolly Parton and Ricky Skaggs on the stereo.
They ran a convenience store in Brisbane, then moved to a farm an hour north when Keith was 10.
Lyrically, he's maybe not so far-ranging, his themes revolving around country's traditional themes, more or less: girls, loss of girls, drinking alone and pick-'em-ups, with songs like "You Look Good in My Shirt," "Tonight I Wanna Cry" and "Boy Gets a Truck." Conversely, his guitar skills are nothing short of freaky.
Actually, he's kind of gearhead-obsessed with guitars and can talk about them endlessly and emotionally, especially when it comes to the sorrow he felt when the great Nashville flood of 2010 rolled over his collection of axes stored in a local rehearsal space, rendering them a sorry, soggy mess.On he hired disco don Nile Rodgers to produce the glitter-ball-ready "Sun Don't Let Me Down" and brought in rapper Pitbull for a mid-tune musical break.If it's out there, he's got his eyes on it.It's some kind of chemistry thing that's compounded by the dimples in his cheeks, the highlighted, center-parted curtain of boyish hair, the muscles plumping the sleeves of his T-shirt, the novelty (a word he hates, by the way) of his Australian accent, etc., etc.All of it adds up to make him a talk show favorite, especially with Ellen De Generes, who always appears comically ready to switch sides for him, and once went so far as to let her hands and lips roam over his entire body, even dangerously low, for a phony-baloney commercial meant to mock-hawk his signature cologne, Phoenix, which is not, by the way, what he's wearing today. In Nashville, he's about as progressive as they come.As an original data compiler, Experian works with hundreds of public and proprietary data sources to reach over 98% of the U.