Letter From America #3 - Tonys final thoughts from Nashville
Everything seems to happen slowly here. It's as if there is time, and then there's Tennessee time. It might be something to do with the heat; it slows you down. Or at least, walking slowly conserves your energy. I have yet to see someone here running for a bus. Or it might be that you get used to having to wait a full fifteen minutes for a slow-moving train to cross your path, and there's nothing you can do about it. This opportunity to fully consider things is evident in much of the songwriting I've come across in the last two weeks. No observation is rushed, no word is wasted. The songs are as matured as the local bourbon.
I grew up listening to Country Music. My dad had many Country albums. Most of them were quite schmaltzy from the "Nashville Sound" era of the mid 60s when pedal steel guitars gave way to rich string sections and choirs. But it was the songs that appealed to me. The clever use of language with succint phrases, conveying in a simple way, stories of love and loss, hardship and adversity, shared truths and common experiences. When asked what you need for a good song, veteran songwriter Harlan Howard, who penned classics such as I Fall to Pieces and Heartaches by the Numbers, said: "Three chords and the truth". I firmly believe that. Back then when I was listening to Ray Charles on our Dansette record player, singing You Win Again, I had no idea he was covering a song by Hank Williams. When Charlie Pride sang Tiger by the Tail, it was my introduction to the songs of Buck Owen. This was the early seventies, I was in to Bowie and Bolan, and yet I knew off by heart all the words to Johnny Cash's A Boy Named Sue. One album, in particular that had a profound effect on me was Marty Robbins' Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs. The storytelling, the rhymes and the metre are still a benchmark for me. I have heard songs here in Nashville that have given me the same goosebumps that hearing Robbins singing The Master's Call gave me back then.
The song is everything. The guys (and gals) here don't talk about great albums by current artists, they talk about the great songs on the album. and know the names of the people who wrote them.
I have been humbled on my visit to Nashville. By the kindness of the people, by the passion with which the writers of these songs live their lives, but mostly, by the songs I have heard. And I have been privileged to have been accepted as a colleague by the many songwriters I have met in the past two weeks.
Through this acceptance, I have been given access to the bars where the tourists don't go. My guide on this journey has been Gary Cavanaugh, a superb songwriter from Colorado now resident in Nashville. Gary lived in London for a few years in the 1970s and has never forgotten the kindness that was shown to him. He is paying that kindness forward, and I am the lucky recipient. He has taken me to open mic nights that are off the beaten track, introduced me as, "this is Tony, a songwriter from London, England" and has practically insisted I be given a slot.
One evening, Gary and I played together at Richard's Cafe in White's Creek, across the road from where Jessie and Frank James once hid out. Although it's only half an hour from Nashville, you are transported to the owner's home state of Louisiana. There is Cajun food on the menu - I had Alligator Bites, Red Beans and Rice, and Jambalaya. Oh, and Pecan Pie! Richard is also a musician and songwriter. He makes Tony Joe White sound like James Blunt. Even our waiter is in on the act: he casually announces that last week he had a song of his played on the TV drama, Nashville.
After our gig at Richard's, Gary and I headed back into town to Bobby's Idle Hour Tavern, one of the most difficult open mic nights to get into. Although I wasn't booked to perform, Gary managed to swing it.
What I didn't count on, was that when the doors closed the real business started. I was told that the barman, Jonathan, was a great writer but that he rarely played. Gary and I cajoled him that I would not be here again, and eventually, he agreed to play. The songs, and the unique, laconic style he played them in left me stunned. One song about the devastation that man is wreaking on the planet called Only Man Can Make a Mountain Cry made me cry. After he finished, the guitar was passed around. Thankfully, I wasn't next. But as he guitar went from one writer to the next, it was brought home to me once more that this city really was the home of songwriting.
I have preferred the open mic nights to the actual gigs. It's a great opportunity to hear other writers, and it's a good test of whether your songs are cutting the mustard, when they are are put up alongside the works of Nashville writers. I was lucky in that the English accent introducing the songs, makes people stop and listen; but then you have to back it up. I think I did okay, and where ever I've played, people have shook my hand, complimented me on my songs, and taken an interest in my story.
At the Douglas Corner Cafe, where I was honoured to have Donnie Winters, who was a contemporary of the Allman Brothers Band and Lynrd Skynrd play dobro on one of my songs, I met Brad from Oklahoma, and Scott from Iowa. They invited me down to the National Songwriters Association International (NSAI) on Music Row to write a song with them. Co-writing is a common occurrence in Nashville but it was new to me. Brad sounds like a cross between John Mellancamp and Steve Earle singing Garth Brooks songs. He offered up a song he had, but was not happy with, and was prepared for us to work on it. It's hard criticising someone's song when you don't know them. Fortunately, Tomorrow is too Late is a good song; it just needed knocking into shape. Scott and I both contributed valuable changes and we all went away thinking it was a better song; Brad is now back in Oklahoma recording it.
Scott and I met again a few days later. He has a beautiful singing voice and writes songs that tear at your heart. We wrote a song from scratch; a proper country song in the Hank Williams tradition called I'm Glad I Woke up Alone. I could get used to co-writing if it's as easy as this.
Although I was here to work, I felt as though I ought to hit the tourist trail; there is a lot to do here but I decided to be selective. I opted for a visit to the Country Music Hall of Fame. In there, I learned a lot about the history of Country Music and its subgenres.
Seeing guitars owned by Hank Williams, Johnny Cash and Gram Parsons was spine-tingling. My ticket included a visit to the famous RCA Studio B where Elvis recorded a huge amount of material. Jim Reeves, The Everly Brothers, Dolly Parton and Roy Orbison were regulars, too. Walking in to the studio gave me goosebumps. When I was invited to play the piano which featured on literally hundreds of hit songs including the Big O's Crying and Elvis's Are you Lonesome Tonight? it was all I could do to stop myself welling up.
I didn't think that experience could be topped. But the following day, I visited the Ryman Auditorium, a converted gospel tabernacle, known as the "Mother Church" of Country Music, which was home for many years to the famous Grand Ole Opry radio show. The tour was interesting and informative, with lots of anecdotes thrown in for good measure. While I was waiting in line to have my picture taken on stage, I started thinking about all the greats who had graced that stage over the years: Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, Buck Owens; and the ladies : Patsy, Dolly, Tammy and Emmylou; and of course, Hank Williams. When I got on stage, the guide handed me a Martin guitar. I strummed it and it was in tune. I couldn't resist it; I started singing and playing Your Cheating Heart. Quietly, at first. The photographer said: "Belt it out, sir." so I did. the acoustics were amazing. I was lost in the moment. I like to think that a ghostly choir of Hank, Patsy and Johnny were singing along with me. The people in the auditorium clapped along and applauded at the end. So, now I can tell people that I've sung at the Ryman.
I love the people of this town. I love Southern hospitality; I love their turn of phrase: like when Gary tells me that the girl he nearly married is now on her fifth husband. " I really dodged a bullet there!" he says, nonchalantly.
I came to Nashville because I'd always wanted to visit the place where all those albums my dad had were recorded. But I also had a new album of my own, Songs From the Last Chance Saloon to promote, and I wanted to see if those songs would stand up by themselves in the home of songwriting. Despite its title, it is not a Country album, and yet, in some way I feel like I'm bringing it back home. I come from an Irish background; the folk traditions of Ireland heavily influenced Country music, so I like to think that that is why my songs have been accepted so readily, here in Tennessee.
I know in my heart that this will not be my only visit to Nashville. I've made too many friends here not to come back here someday soon. There is a real community of spirit in this town. I think it helps songwriters to be among like-minded souls when striving to realise a dream. They might be waiting tables or tending bars but when you ask them what they do, they say: "I'm a songwriter". I've always said that I write songs not because I want to but because I need to. In a bar. late one night, one Nashvillian put it quite succinctly, when he said: "You don't choose music, music chooses you".
Till next time, Music City, "If the Good Lord is willing and the creek don't rise."