Music City Roots

It’s not as easy to go to Merlefest as it used to be in my footloose, sleeping-on-the-ground-is-fine days. So it’s wonderful to annually have a mini-Merlefest of our own at Music City Roots. The sampling of Merle-bound artists always refreshes and always seems to spotlight the very best of progressive traditional music. This week’s heavily attended show was no exception.

Historians can and do debate the circumstances under which rock and roll was born, but there’s no debating the fact that modern-day rockers who capture the excitement of that initial blast are rootsy as all get-out, nor that said beginning was propelled by a mix that included plenty of blues and hillbilly progenitors. This week’s show covered a couple of bases with Sunny Sweeney’s nothing-but brand of country and Bella Hardy’s evocative British folk, then took a turn into the front porch blues shouting of Rev. Peyton’s Big Damn Band before landing in Blackfoot Gypsies’ primal rock and roll. Lineages notwithstanding, it was roots everywhere you looked.

A special charismatic energy always attends the arrival of La Terza Classe, the old time string band quintet from Naples Italy. I’ve rarely seen people who seem so glad to be alive, on the road, playing music. And they were just part of a gathering tribe of visitors on a rapturously gorgeous spring evening this week. Beloved Nashville bass player Dave Roe and drummer Rick Lonow were on hand. Friendly Mike Webb was in the green room too. My good Tulsa-based friend Jared Tyler was in town to play and sing with Malcolm Holcombe. And I even had my own family on hand to supplement my Roots family, with my wife and daughter accompanying relatives from Texas. So the stage was set for a warm and sunny show at the end of a warm and sunny day. In order: Ana Cristina Cash La Terza Classe Kenny & Amanda Smith Malcolm Holcombe

It’s a big country, this America, and Americana music is concomitantly enriched by its host nation’s geography and diversity. That was on display Wednesday night as Roots hosted artists from New York, Texas, Massachusetts and Washington. Strings were stretched, along with rules and genre boundaries. There’s no point in reaching for a fancy way to say it. This one was a delight and the crowd seemed to agree, what with all the frequent standing and applauding.

There’s a new eatery in The Factory at Franklin that’s offering what is, for Williamson County, a slightly exotic new pre-show dinner option. Funk Seoul Brother has a hip hop esthetic and a Korean/Japanese menu with poke (PO-kay), the rice bowl featuring raw fish. My tuna and seaweed this week was zesty and contrasty and a tiny offering to the gods of global cultural exchange. With the right taking illiberal positions against pluralism and the left taking illiberal positions against what it calls “cultural appropriation,” I’m up for anything that affirms the values of dialogue and, well, cultural appropriation, because without that, we’d not have the grand American music legacy. Melting pots make a lot of sound, and we aim to be there with microphones. Which brings me to 7 pm on Wednesday night.

Spring springs eternal, and it was renewing to return to the Factory with the recent freeze behind us and new sprouts sprouting for some of our kind of living roots. It was a night that left some of our regulars buzzing with the sweet feeling of trust and vindication. I mean they may not have known most of the artists on the bill, but they gave of themselves and met these artists halfway and found charm, grit and beauty over two and a half efficient hours.  I got to speak at length with Guy Davis in the afternoon and he was just full of soul and humanity and enthusiasm. But even his bright personality was a hard match for harmonica man Fabrizio Poggi, who whooped and dug into his arsenal of harps on material largely drawn from the repertoire of Sonny Terry and Brownie McGee. This made a high-energy acoustic pairing to close the night. More: http://musiccityroots.com/blog/jumped-spring-3-22-17/    

I don’t often lead these reports with our Nashville Jam, but sometimes our show-closing, all-hands feature goes exceptionally well. And this week it felt like some cathartic starburst that brought together all of the energies and chemistries of the nights four acts. And that is exactly what it’s supposed to do under ideal circumstances. The song was “Why You Been Gone So Long?” from the pen of Mickey Newbury. A lot of us bluegrass heads glommed on to the song as recorded by Tony Rice. But my research says it was first recorded by the long forgotten Johnny Darrell in 1969 with a dank electric guitar twang and a twisty beat. And that’s the beat that Jim Lauderdale (who was back after a few weeks of being gone so long – why?) set up as Nikki Lane, Michaela Anne, Paul McDonald and Parker Gispert brought their distinctive voices to the verses. The choruses were huge and tight and joyful. Sometimes we really nail it. But it had been a special night all around by that point anyway.

Some artists who write instrumental tunes claim that naming them is difficult. I don’t know. I’m always coming up with weird phrases that seem to have no other purpose on Earth other than to be a jazz or fiddle tune, some of which are named with surreal panache. Consider two of the tunes April Verch played in her show-opening set of Canada-inspired traditional music: “Spider Bit The Baby” and “Joke On The Puppy.” One has to wonder what circumstances way back wherever in time led somebody to affix those words to those churning bundles of notes and rhythms. In my mystery lies stories of our own making. That’s what’s fun about instrumental music in general; we can bring a lot of ourselves to a tune’s meaning when the singer isn’t telling us what to think. Even so, on this balmy March 1 night as we closed our winter 2017 season, the singers and songwriters gave us plenty to think about as well. It was a well-rounded, head bobbing kind of an evening that started in Canada and ended up in South Carolina.

Even with all of the cool country music fashion we’ve seen over the years, Jim Lauderdale’s Manuel suits included, nobody has ever made me drop my jaw and exclaim out loud like Ward Hayden’s Tex-Mex suit of flowers and jewels on Wednesday night. It was black with tightly embroidered vines and blooms and just covered like a mirror ball with rhinestones. He wore it well and led Girls Guns and Glory in a set that easily justified the audacious accouterments. It was one quarter of a night that delivered half bluegrass and half rocking country and 100% well written songs.

Later this month (2/23), the series SUN Records premieres on CMT, with music supervision by friend of the show and friend of hillbilly music Chuck Mead. We’ve been thrilled to follow Chuck’s journey on this unexpectedly large gig. Years ago he was hired to keep the music real in the then off-Broadway production of Million Dollar Quartet. It grew into a global award winning phenomenon. This week we got to hear Chuck perform his own music again for the first time in a while, and he was part of our own quartet of Nashville artists. Worth a million? Who’s to say. What’s fair to notice, I think, is that for ten bucks, it was a very good deal.

We at Roots probably have you conditioned by now so that when we say “bluegrass” you know we mean the whole range, from roots to branches. Our all-bluegrass shows generally include a Greensky or a Sam Bush Band, because one of the greatest things about the field is its freedom. It’s one of the ultimate artist-driven, innovation-friendly genres and we’ll always celebrate that. But this week was different – a turn toward bluegrass fundamentalism if you will. It was all trad. No rad. And boy was it excellent. Lineup in order: The Lonesome River Band Foghorn String Band Joe Mullins & The Radio Ramblers The Isaacs

This week on MCR a showcase of bands from four music cities. From Nashville, big sweeping pop melodies and a skilled instrumental attack from Waker. From Athens GA, the haunting alt-Appalachian music of Cicada Rhythm. And from Memphis, an acclaimed ensemble that's about to release new music on the legendary STAX Records label - Southern Avenue. Also on the show, a spectacular archival set from our Loveless Cafe days featuring one of the finest and funkiest bands from Austin, Mingo Fishtrap.  

I got to meet country singer and songwriter Cody Jinks on Wednesday, and I am pleased to report that, as his album title asserts, he is Not The Devil. While his merch is full of flaming skulls and his web site depicts him as the black-bearded former death metal artist turned honky tonker that he is, the man himself is an open, smiling and considerate guy. He hung out after the show greeting and meeting with his fans and taking pictures as long as any artist I can remember. At the same time, he had a fire behind his eyes and about a million miles under his rings and tattoos, and our on stage conversation felt far too short. It was just one highlight of a flavorful night of music. Somebody must have brought some salt. And indeed it wasn’t just Old Salt Union who did so. Peter Case showed world weary wisdom. Jesse Kramer radiated. Colin Hay showed the power of reinvention. I can still taste it now.

An extraordinary night of music with a travelin’ kind of vibe began with a foreign visitor who traffics in global sounds. Piers Faccini has one of the most imaginative musical minds I know in his ability to layer (and he was explicit about this in our interview) British folk tradition, Delta and Hill Country Mississippi blues and North African sounds. The Mulligan Brothers presented the most straightforwardly Americana/roots set of the night with a quartet featuring acoustic guitar, fiddle, electric bass and drums. In truth, the guys in Greyhounds didn’t really need my help to put on a spectacular set of shoe sliding soul anthems. Trube kicked things off with the wiry twang of his vintage guitar before Ferrell took the lead voice on “A War Is On For Your Mind,” the hot political take from their current album. Ineffable chemistry and a taste for what’s cool is what makes this band tick. It’s never a surprise when the Travelin’ McCourys put on a great set, but my god, I was pinned to the wall by the power of th

The Kentucky Headhunters brought new songs from a new album and sounded no less feisty and committed than they did when they scored radio hits in the late 80s. They are eternal Southern rockers who know how to get the most out of classic solid body electric guitars. Hymn For Her swung through in their Airstream to rock our stage, with some twists. Wayne and Lucy’s daughter, who was just a babe when we first met her, is now old enough to sing “Sioux City Sue” with swing. And the duo offered a new 60s pop feeling with a song called “Milkweed” that I just flipped over. The Farmer & Adele brought classic country and western music to the stage with finesse and stagecraft. The Buckleys, a family band of all teens from Australia opened the night with brightness and innate talent.

Kelsey Waldon is a charming and heart-rending at the same time. With a twinkle in her eye she can pierce you with melancholy or shiv a rival with icy cool worthy of Loretta Lynn. The latter was more the feeling of opening song “False King” with a hook I love: “You can’t place a crown on the head of a clown and hope he turns out to be a king.” Kind of reminded me of current events. There were curtains of gorgeous steel guitar from Brett Resnick, notably the solo on set closer “All By Myself.” Also sweet was Walson’s slow rocking take on Bill Monroe’s “Travelin’ Down This Lonesome Road.” She knows lonesome and she showed it.

Under the circumstances, The Coal Men felt more like comfort food, with their gorgeous tones and tight roots rocking structures. Dave Coleman writes pop songs with the story quotient of country songs, so we got “Stones River” about old friends/mentors and a wintry outdoor setting. And “Willy Jett” is a portrait of the demise of a semi-loveable loser. Dave encouraged us to think of it like a little movie, and it was. More story in my favorite song on the new Pushed To The Side album in “The Singer From Louisville,” which channels a piece of Tommy Womack fiction that is drawn from hard experience. Guest host Peter Cooper worked with the Coal Men and other artists to pull together a really nice take on Dave Dudley’s “Six Days On The Road,” which hasn’t been a Nashville Jam in years. Great call and a great job.

What’s on tap, as we like to say? Well how about John Oates, our yes-we-did-just-drop-that-name superstar buddy who’s done more to parlay his Rock and Roll Hall of Fame stature into the growth and enrichment of Americana music than anybody this side of Springsteen. It was a lot to get our heads around back in the early 2000s when the mustachioed songwriter of “Maneater” and “Kiss On My List” turned back to his folk music roots and began collaborating with lifer/masters like Sam Bush and Vince Gill. But the results have been superb, led by an honest voice that clearly understands the nature of great songs. Oates grew up loving roots music, and he shared an anecdote about that recently in a songwriter showcase interview. He talked about spending time as a teenager with Mississippi John Hurt when he’d come through Philadelphia to play clubs and the city’s famous folk festival. You can tell he was paying attention.

What a wonderful scene took shape at Roots on Wednesday night, with old friends of the show and assorted music mavens on hand, mingling while truly listening, the way a good Nashvillian does. But this was a night with abundant local talent, a veritable showcase of the new acoustic and bluegrass master pickers who’ve moved to Music City where, as Kyle Tuttle said in the interview, they find enough work to put a living together and deep support for their ambitions. We surely were glad to play our part in supporting our city’s awesome bluegrass situation (to borrow a phrase) and we were delighted to see so many turn out to support the show.

Bill Lloyd pulled a quick change of personnel plan on Wednesday when his electric band’s regular bassist had a baby arrive in the family. The drummerless trio of Bill, Jim Hoke on steel and Hags Haggerty on bass eased nicely through a mix of originals and covers, which is Bill’s way. “In A Perfect World” was light and danceable. “Coconut Grove” had breezy jazz chords. And the highlight was a dynamic take on the “Across The Universe,” a reminder of just what a remarkable melody that song has. Its mantra chorus, “Nothing’s gonna change my world” felt particularly calming under the circumstances. Full Review HERE.