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Like a moonshine still obscured by kudzu and morning mist, the true persona of Loretta Lynn is bemasked and distorted by her filmic avatars. Is she just a down-to-earth gal from Butcher Holler, Ky., composed of equal parts sophistication and sassafras? The Ophelia of the Opry, Barbara Jean, as depicted by Ronee Blakley in Robert Altman’s Nashville? Or is she the doe-eyed martyr played by Sissy Spacek in the hayseed hagiography Coal Miner’s Daughter? This identity crisis over the actuality of Loretta certainly has nothing to do with any lack of input from the first lady of country music. She has written a second autobiography, Still Woman Enough: A Memoir (comes complete with great chapter titles like ”This Is Gonna Be a Helluva Show! Bobby’s Pants Is Unzipped, and Loretta’s Drunk!”), and has also otherwise been extremely candid about her life. And what a life! Married at 13; mother of four children by the age of 17; controversial with her pro-birth-control anthem, “The Pill” (with six kids and 29 grandchildren, she should know the pitfalls of fertility); Behind the Music-meets-Hee Haw-sordid with her drugs and nervous breakdowns. The chronology of her career reads like a series of countrified contretemps and calamities so extreme that they seem fictionalized. The real Loretta should still put on a great show this week, even if there are no onstage collapses or non sequiturs about The Wizard of Oz. Be there at 7 p.m. Friday, Nov. 15, at the 9:30 Club, 815 V St. NW. $40. (202) 393-0930. (David Dunlap Jr.)