There Ain't Nothing Wrong With Nashville

I'll admit the skyline was a little more impressive than I was expecting. Luckily it was 7:30 am on a Saturday and traffic was zilch. I found a solid spot to park downtown, which I deemed safe for the day. I was a little wary of the city with all my gear but it worked out just fine.

I didn't feel right taking pictures of a lot of the people and images that stuck with me but I can write about them. There are a huge number of one man street shows. Everybody has a guitar and a favorite pair of boots. Walking around early in the morning I saw some of Friday night's leftovers. A heavy set man in a wheel chair, head tipped back, mouth agape, with a bright blue guitar resting half on his belly. There were lonely men singing country blues to passerbys who were just trying to find further excitement. The tourist district is wild. Asian couples in pink cowboy hats. Guys looking almost too western. Lots of heavy guys with necks of brick red ushering their blonde wives into the next bar or through the throngs of people on the sidewalks. I bumped in to one too many elvis statues. There were painted guitars of Honky Tonk Heroes. Bluegrass blared from what looked like electrical utility boxes on the street corners. There were Portlandesque streetkid hippies replete with dogs they could barely feed. One sign read Hungry Hungry Hippies. Every bar had live music pouring from it. If it didn't it probably hadn't opened yet. Nashville brochures glorified their live music scene saying cheesy things like "Stop in a local tavern for a live music experience you'll cherish forever!"

I heard Old Crow tunes spilling onto the streets, Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash and Hank Williams. Everything down here is a "family tradition." I stopped in pub called the Spare Fiddle around noon and watched a honky tonk band do their thing. These are Nashville musicians and they know how to play the game. They made it evident that they were playing for free. The lanky lead man came by to "shake everyone's hand" with the tip jar in tow. Same kind of way we had to work the tourists in AK. Just a bit more in your face. I can imagine trying to be a musician in this town is like looking for conservation jobs in Portland OR. There were bars everywere, tucked in alleys, perched in hotels, and everyone had a band trying to make their way. For all the touristy madness I definitely got a sense that this is a town with soul. Despite the elementary thought processes that seemed to light up the faces of listeners during songs like Titties and Beer, there was definitely a lot of talent spinning around the music scene.

The least I could do with Jamie back in Duluth was find her some cowboy boots. And that I did. Now I have bought Mukluks in AK, picked through the Taffy at Cannon Beach and walked around Multnomah falls with parents and a camera. But walking out of the leather shop in my teva sandals and grizzly bear t-shirt was a tourist right of passage fit for the most seasoned cruise line vacationer. There were troupes of girls trying on boots, oohing and aweing, with slick cowboy hatted salesmen talking about what was "hot" at the moment. "Oh red's selling big right now." Now throw me in the midst of it all and it was about as ridiculous as a scene as I can render. But they are damn nice boots!

Anyhow I felt it my duty to catch a late afternoon buzz, what with all the good/funny music, how could I not? But around 8:30 (yes I'm lame) things started to get a little crazy. Had I been with Jamie and our old Portland crew it would have been great. But alone it started feeling like I should get back moving again. That southern charm from earlier in the day was starting to get stale as the beer kept pouring. I saw some real drunk eyes and figured I had my fun. I slept the beer off in the back of my truck and got back on the highway just as the revelry was getting underway. I'll have to go back some time with reinforcements.