Nashville, Tennessee is still home to the American corporate music industry,
but has also come to contain its own interesting cultural institutions: besides
being the location of many music publishing firms, celebrities' corporate offices, and tourism behemoths (the Grand Ol Opry, the Ryman Auditorium, and
the Country Music Hall of Fame), Nashville is one of the few places in the world
where one can find a place like The Bluebird Café.
The Bluebird has gained all the press it may ever deserve—and yet, still warrants more description, based here on my observations on a bitterly cold and recent January night, one of the first in a bold new year. The Bluebird Cafe is one of Nashville's smallest music venues, but is the only one that claims on its website to be "one of the world's preeminent listening rooms.”Concieved as a restaurant that would feature musical accompaniment in 1982, the Bluebird Café quickly gained a reputation as a location where rising stars would be discovered, faster than any drawn-out American Idol circus. The Bluebird is located in what appeared to be a nice neighborhood of Nashville, located in what I grew up calling a ‘strip mall’—a row of single-story storefronts. Elsewherein the same shopping complex as the Bluebird is a highbrow womens’ clothing store, and offices. The Bluebird Café reminded me of Soup-N-Greens in Barre, Vermont, or the famous Tom Jones Restaurant (no relation to the singer) on Edgemont Avenue in Brookhaven, Pennsylvania, or even an average Applebee’s, but with a sense of unique, homespun decorum. There were no traces of corporate foodservice culture: the drop ceiling created a wide and low-ceiling’d cavern, beneath which patrons are seated at tall and short tables. The Bluebird Café accommodates 90 people at each show; I'd guess ten percent of any audience at the Bluebird are talent scouts, from labels, studios, and promoters.
Inside, the heritage of the joint is immediately obvious: scores of autographed 8x10 glossy photographs, and larger framed photos, line the walls, having long ago usurped the original décor, painted garden lattice and faux-awnings against the baby blue walls. Kathy Mattea began at the Bluebird as a waitress; Garth Brooks was offered his first contract in the kitchen; the Indigo Girls, Pam Tillis, and Taylor Swift have all been discovered there. Since the early 1980s, songs and souls have been bought and sold at The Bluebird Café. It’s part of the country charm/schtick, I guess, to call the Bluebird a “listening room”— audiences are expected to sit silently during performances, despite that the acoustics are about as great as any given department at a WalMart, and despite the fact that no one person in Bluebird actually has a seat that faces all the performers (seated ‘in the round,’ singer/songwriters take turns performing from the center of the room). But the Bluebird was, and apparently always is, packed, and for good reason: to see people actually strum their instruments while one enjoys sweet potato fries, chicken ceasar wraps, cole slaw and the like.
This night was the first in an annual series of performances to benefit AliveHospice, a Nashville-based charity. In the center of the cafe, the musicians-- Dave Gibson, John Wiggins, Bernie Nelson, Steve Smith, and Larry Gatlin-- gathered, laughed, and tuned their guitars. The collection of performers, and their tales of cassette demos lost during breakups, of songs being recorded eight and nine times without becoming a hit (Dave Gibson’s collaboration with Chris Wallin, called “The Good Drugs”), made me wonder if a similar scene was the same among the Tin Pan Alley songwriters of New York City—at a time when a struggling recording industry was hungry for sure-fire hits. As Gibson’s song about a frog led to quick and humorous tunes about talking dogs, talking seeing-eye dogs, and other humor that was a sidestep from that which may be still found on Hee-Haw. Gatlin noted how performances in-the-round encourage songwriters to “sing all this crap we write for ourselves,” and not the hit(s) they may be better known for.
The Bluebird has gained all the press it may ever deserve—and yet, still warrants more description, based here on my observations on a bitterly cold and recent January night, one of the first in a bold new year. The Bluebird Cafe is one of Nashville's smallest music venues, but is the only one that claims on its website to be "one of the world's preeminent listening rooms.”Concieved as a restaurant that would feature musical accompaniment in 1982, the Bluebird Café quickly gained a reputation as a location where rising stars would be discovered, faster than any drawn-out American Idol circus. The Bluebird is located in what appeared to be a nice neighborhood of Nashville, located in what I grew up calling a ‘strip mall’—a row of single-story storefronts. Elsewherein the same shopping complex as the Bluebird is a highbrow womens’ clothing store, and offices. The Bluebird Café reminded me of Soup-N-Greens in Barre, Vermont, or the famous Tom Jones Restaurant (no relation to the singer) on Edgemont Avenue in Brookhaven, Pennsylvania, or even an average Applebee’s, but with a sense of unique, homespun decorum. There were no traces of corporate foodservice culture: the drop ceiling created a wide and low-ceiling’d cavern, beneath which patrons are seated at tall and short tables. The Bluebird Café accommodates 90 people at each show; I'd guess ten percent of any audience at the Bluebird are talent scouts, from labels, studios, and promoters.
Inside, the heritage of the joint is immediately obvious: scores of autographed 8x10 glossy photographs, and larger framed photos, line the walls, having long ago usurped the original décor, painted garden lattice and faux-awnings against the baby blue walls. Kathy Mattea began at the Bluebird as a waitress; Garth Brooks was offered his first contract in the kitchen; the Indigo Girls, Pam Tillis, and Taylor Swift have all been discovered there. Since the early 1980s, songs and souls have been bought and sold at The Bluebird Café. It’s part of the country charm/schtick, I guess, to call the Bluebird a “listening room”— audiences are expected to sit silently during performances, despite that the acoustics are about as great as any given department at a WalMart, and despite the fact that no one person in Bluebird actually has a seat that faces all the performers (seated ‘in the round,’ singer/songwriters take turns performing from the center of the room). But the Bluebird was, and apparently always is, packed, and for good reason: to see people actually strum their instruments while one enjoys sweet potato fries, chicken ceasar wraps, cole slaw and the like.
This night was the first in an annual series of performances to benefit AliveHospice, a Nashville-based charity. In the center of the cafe, the musicians-- Dave Gibson, John Wiggins, Bernie Nelson, Steve Smith, and Larry Gatlin-- gathered, laughed, and tuned their guitars. The collection of performers, and their tales of cassette demos lost during breakups, of songs being recorded eight and nine times without becoming a hit (Dave Gibson’s collaboration with Chris Wallin, called “The Good Drugs”), made me wonder if a similar scene was the same among the Tin Pan Alley songwriters of New York City—at a time when a struggling recording industry was hungry for sure-fire hits. As Gibson’s song about a frog led to quick and humorous tunes about talking dogs, talking seeing-eye dogs, and other humor that was a sidestep from that which may be still found on Hee-Haw. Gatlin noted how performances in-the-round encourage songwriters to “sing all this crap we write for ourselves,” and not the hit(s) they may be better known for.
Gibson’s first choice was a song he
wrote, that was made famous by Conway Twitty, “House on Old Lonesome Road.” The
song reminded me of Tom Waits’ “House Where Nobody Lives,” in musical structure
and lyrical theme. It was all one might love about a country ballad:
heart-rendered lyrics and simple guitar accompaniement, until Gibson lost track
of his final verse, distracted by a patron’s lavish boots. He and Nelson
cracked up about it, and the song regained its composure, but never its
intimate and passionate vibe. Dave
Gibson also did “The Frog Song,” and the remarkable “Til’ the Rain Falls On the
Scarecrow,” a hauntingly patriotic ballad in a minor key he is co-credited on,
that has gained recent acclaim. “Wait until they find out I don’t have a
32-inch waist and wear Wrangler jeans,” he laughed, referring (I assume) to the
corporate industry’s image and marketing machine.
Besides getting to hear Larry Gatlin perform one of my favorite songs ("All The Gold In California"), his stories reflected his presumably-high standing among popular music circles: a song he wrote and was recorded by Striesand, for A Star is Born, only to have the scene cut from the film. Gatlin also explained how—without his knowledge—Streisand’s recording of the song was being re-released, on a deluxe reissue, which “helped make Christmas a little more joyful,” he laughed. The song, “Try to Win a Friend,” was the first in the set to feature Gatlin’s unique and easy high tenor range. There was much banter and camaraderie about and around the music business; at one point, Gatlin stood up, pretended to produce a business card from his back pocket, and introduced himself to the other musicians: "Hi, I'm Larry Gatlin, I'm new in town..."
Like other genres, country music is digging around for its roots. The undisputed song of the night came as Bernie Nelson invited AJ Engstrom, a young guy with a backwards baseball cap, into the circle of microphones to perform his song “Cashflow.” Gibson and Nelson welcomed Engstrom warmly: unlike the other seasoned musicians in the group, Engstrom strummed away with a fury uncommon in the night. His song was both a tribute to The Man In Black, as well as scathing attack about the lack of “real country” being published by major labels: “they’re interrupting my cashflow/where’s Haggard, I don’t know.” It was catchy, fast, and was the only riff that appeared to present a challenge to the group’s silent member, Steve Smith, whose acoustic solos and backup were ever-impressive; Engstrom’s riff was too fast, not just to support the melodic licks and background noodling he had been providing all night, but perhaps too fast for the non-millenial crowd. What "Cashflow" demanded—for the genre to return to its roots, of strong, if stoic, personalities (and not, presumably, to promote the glitz and glitter of American Idol winners)-- seemed to be what the crowd was hoping for: Engstrom’s song garnered thunderous applause, while Larry Gatlin nearly fell off his chair during some of the witty verses. After the show, I congratulated AJ on his accomplishment and strong showing; as he’s got “some meetings with some people this week,” the song “Cashflow” is not available on any forms of social media.
AJ Engstrom's latest work is found here: http://ajengstromband.com/
AliveHospice is found here: http://alivehospice.org/
The Bluebird Cafe (including a link to make reservations!) is found here: http://www.bluebirdcafe.com/
Like other genres, country music is digging around for its roots. The undisputed song of the night came as Bernie Nelson invited AJ Engstrom, a young guy with a backwards baseball cap, into the circle of microphones to perform his song “Cashflow.” Gibson and Nelson welcomed Engstrom warmly: unlike the other seasoned musicians in the group, Engstrom strummed away with a fury uncommon in the night. His song was both a tribute to The Man In Black, as well as scathing attack about the lack of “real country” being published by major labels: “they’re interrupting my cashflow/where’s Haggard, I don’t know.” It was catchy, fast, and was the only riff that appeared to present a challenge to the group’s silent member, Steve Smith, whose acoustic solos and backup were ever-impressive; Engstrom’s riff was too fast, not just to support the melodic licks and background noodling he had been providing all night, but perhaps too fast for the non-millenial crowd. What "Cashflow" demanded—for the genre to return to its roots, of strong, if stoic, personalities (and not, presumably, to promote the glitz and glitter of American Idol winners)-- seemed to be what the crowd was hoping for: Engstrom’s song garnered thunderous applause, while Larry Gatlin nearly fell off his chair during some of the witty verses. After the show, I congratulated AJ on his accomplishment and strong showing; as he’s got “some meetings with some people this week,” the song “Cashflow” is not available on any forms of social media.
AJ Engstrom's latest work is found here: http://ajengstromband.com/
AliveHospice is found here: http://alivehospice.org/
The Bluebird Cafe (including a link to make reservations!) is found here: http://www.bluebirdcafe.com/
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