BusRoads Buzz: December 2017

Being deer in the headlights at the Bluebird Cafe

Greetings!

Against all odds, we find ourselves roughly as far from the West Coast as it is possible to drive in the "Lower 48." A transition through about ten states in two weeks places us on the Space Coast of Florida, just below Cape Canaveral, halfway down the Atlantic side of the state. According to Google Maps, we are more than 3,000 miles from our home. Perhaps the distance is why we let eight years pass since the last time we admired Spanish moss draping the live oaks in Savannah, sniffed the distinctive odor of salt water mangrove swamps, tasted an authentic Cuban sandwich, or chuckled at the goofy looking manatees printed on signs warning boaters to avoid collisions with these gentle mammals. There is a seasonal charm to the festive Christmas decorations on neighboring RVs at Patrick Air Force Base and even though the camp has been updated since our last visit, the remembered palm trees, egrets, runways, ospreys, base facilities and nearby towns are all comfortably familiar. We hope your holidays are also full of warm, familiar comforts and bright, seasonal festivities. ~ Brian and Andi

Wish You Were Here

It's nicknamed "Music City", reflecting the vast quantity of popular music that is composed, produced, recorded and performed in the fast-growing metropolis of Nashville, Tennessee. Though much could also be said about Nashville's importance in banking, healthcare, higher education and publishing, it was the legacy of country music that attracted us. Our visit began with an unforgettable performance opportunity related below in "Life on the Road." The rest of the time we were tourists, starting with a trip to the somewhat suburban area called "Music Row."

The heart of Nashville music business

This is where the business of music takes place – recording studios, record label offices and other nitty gritty of legality and distribution that brings music to the people. We wandered along sidewalks amid unassuming buildings that would turn out to be Decca Records, offices of the Country Music Association, BMI, or RCA Studio B where Chet Atkins launched hits by the likes of Elvis Presley and Dolly Parton.

Not a clandestine government agency,
but the Nashville Songwriters Association main office

A wooden building with a water mill wheel on one end had a sign reading "Nashville Songwriters Association International." A buzzer by the door said to ring for access – so we did! A kind receptionist offered us a form to complete regarding our specific songwriting interests, then we were given a tour of the old mill building which was moved to this site and now served as a two-story composers' clubhouse – recording studio, conference area, writing rooms complete with pianos and guitars, and shared kitchen. A membership to NSAI earns you advice from professionals, free seminars, discount on conferences and many other tidbits to tempt an enthusiastic songwriter. We bought a tee shirt, accepted the proffered business cards, magnets and stickers, and promised to think about joining.

Next stop was Carter Vintage Guitars, a megastore of guitars, mandolins, banjos and other stringed instruments required for the country music sound. We admired the fine workmanship, wondered which big stars might wander in for a new axe, turned over a few price tags and generally kept our hands to ourselves. We overheard the staff filling someone's order for 50 sets of guitar strings and not an eyelid was batted. They gave us a guitar pick, so we were happy.

That would usually be enough for us for one day, but we were staying in an RV park on the outskirts of city center very near the current Grand Ole Opry, so we drove by for a peek at the building - just the outside since the first available tickets were for three months from now. Dusk was beginning to fall and lights glowed on the businesses we were passing.

One that caught our eye was the Willie Nelson and Friends Museum and General Store. Now how could we resist? The store itself was as full of tacky key rings, shot glasses and tee shirts as one might expect, but the museum in the back was informative, comprehensive and truly moving. We saw the Martin guitar Willie used at his Grand Ole Opry debut, the hand written lyrics of his first big songwriting hit (Hello Walls), Waylon Jennings' garment bag (once collected in error at a Paris airport by Henry Kissinger), a Dolly Parton dress plus costumes and memorabilia from scores of other influential artists, a wall covered with gold and platinum records attesting to Willie's popularity, and a huge, worn carpet depicting a Texas flag that once covered every stage on which Willie performed and still displays a single unfaded red spot where his microphone stand was always located. A documentary movie showed Willie and his friends yucking it up about the good old days when they would hang around at Tootsie's Orchid Lounge for inspiration and camaraderie. "Tootsie" (Hattie Louise Bess) would never let a musician go hungry and accepted IOUs for drinks and food without ever collecting the debt. The ideal location across the alley from the Ryman Auditorium made her honky-tonk the hangout of choice for Kris Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings, Patsy Cline and other famous country musicians, and the interior walls are covered with inscriptions and photos.

The facade of the Ryman Auditorium,
originally the Union Gospel Tabernacle

And that segues to our next day – a look at Ryman Auditorium and the Nashville honky-tonks. ("Honky-tonk" defines a country-style saloon and also the name of the type of music which was originally played there.) A shuttle bus dropped us in downtown Nashville and we immediately hoofed it to the enormous, red brick Ryman Auditorium that began as a church and has now been a venue to all varieties of music. Although it might be best known as the original home of the Grand Ole Opry, it is safe to say that if you like any music at all, from Caruso to Glen Campbell to the Foo Fighters, someone you admire has performed before the semi-circular wooden benches of the two-tiered Ryman. Without going into too much of its 125-year past, suffice it to say that we felt the thick aura of Ryman history in the dark pews and display cases.

After all, how could you see Minnie Pearl's actual price-tag hat and not be moved?!

We walked across the alley to the back door of Tootsie's Orchid Lounge, prepared to hear one of the live bands for which Nashville's glittering row of honky-tonks is known. To our surprise, not one but three bands were performing on different levels of the crowded bar. We took a rooftop table in the November sunshine and had lunch in earshot of several other honky-tonks, all competing for the attention of our eardrums. The first few blocks of Broadway up from the Cumberland River explode with boots stores, tee shirt shops, souvenir stores, and bar after bar featuring live music. We left Nashville feeling simultaneously drained, nostalgic and invigorated. You can expect a new song to join our ukulele repertoire as a result of our visit to this inspiring "Music City."

Life on the Road

Queuing up at the Bluebird Cafe

As wandering minstrels, we sometimes take advantage of open mic situations to test our ukulele tunes on new, receptive, non-judgmental audiences. There is a small club in Nashville called The Bluebird Cafe that has launched the careers of many a singer-songwriter and hosts intimate concerts by established and rapidly rising stars. It is hard to get tickets for these performances, but their web page had a tab labeled, "how to play". We pressed it out of curiosity and discovered they have an open mic on Mondays. Realizing we would arrive in Nashville on a Monday, we double-dared each other to play at the famous Bluebird. To get on the list, you have to phone them on the very Monday you wish to play and they take the first 25 callers. That Monday we were driving from Arkansas, but we pulled off the freeway shortly before the appointed time of 11:00am, hoping we actually had figured the time zone correctly. With the number punched into the phone and a finger on the dial button, we watched the clock strike 11:00 and pressed call. The first try resulted in a recorded message about no one being available. We hung up and immediately dialed again – too late, it was busy. Tried again, busy. Dialed again, again, again for 20 minutes and suddenly got a voice at the other end. (Uh, oh!) Hello, we'd like to play on your open mic and yes, we can be there at 5:15. Gulp – we were in!

The big moment

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur – something about driving 100 miles, checking in at our RV park, finding The Bluebird early enough to park the RV on a nearby street, drinking coffee, changing clothes and collecting our ukuleles. It all comes into focus again as we stood in the brisk, gathering darkness on the sidewalk outside The Bluebird chatting with other musicians for about half an hour before being ushered inside. We nervously found one of the small tables up front labeled "Reserved for Songwriters and Guests", pulled out our instruments to let them warm up and tucked our cases under our chairs. We glanced at some sort of menu in the half light and politely ordered a snack and water, though neither of us could eat. The event ran like clockwork and we were assigned slot number 15. Each musician popped onto the low stage in front of bright lights, plugged in the dangling cord, adjusted the mic and gave us one song. Some folks had lots of poise and experience, others bravely gave it their all, and everyone was rewarded with sincere applause. For our part, we performed "Island Sun" and it seemed that we really had them under our spell! There was a good show of appreciation and lots of kind remarks whispered afterwards. We felt good. A few folks had their names drawn to play again, including us. In honor of the upcoming holidays we concluded with "An Island Christmas" and were rewarded with similar enthusiasm. When the open mic was over, we filed back out into the cold, black Nashville night, each breathing a sigh of equal parts gratitude and relief.

Did You Know?

Kelly Slater riding a wave in front of Ron Jon Surf Shop

Without question, the most successful professional surfer of all time is Kelly Slater, who was born in Cocoa Beach, Florida, just up the road from where we are now camped at Patrick Air Force Base. His larger-than-life image surfs a mighty cement wave in front of a larger-than-life store called Ron Jon Surf Shop. Ron Jon is a two story megastore of all things beachy from boards and Hawaiian shirts to sandals and household decorations. It is open 24/7 and we counted no fewer than 17 giant billboard ads on our drive down from Savannah.

Coffee Chat

It has been eight years since we have visited the Space Coast and for eight years we have been receiving monthly emailed invitations to the Indian River Native Flute Circle, which we attended one time. We enjoy this little link with Florida and have not been able to bring ourselves to ask them to remove us from their email list. We are glad we didn't because a timely reminder gave us the opportunity to meet up with them once again in the Cocoa Public Library. Every face was new but the welcome was warm, the playing was fun, the many Native flutes were beautiful, and the emails will continue to taunt us.