Nashville, Nashville...Nashville Tennuhsee

A Newbrunswicker's Week In Nashville


Music Row was both cabin and Fortress, Corporate Headquarters and converted living rooms.

Miles and miles of publishers, agents, management companies, and labels - large and small - stretched further than my eyes or imagination would allow.

The band I am lead singer of - The Divorcees - had just completed their second release titled "The Last Of The Free Men". Having finished production of the record with Josh Finlayson (Of The Skydiggers) at the Bathouse Studio in Bath, Ontario, we were lucky to secure the services of Terry Sawchuk, a mixer working at the legendary Blackbird Studios in Nashville - a sprawling complex owned by John McBride (husband of Martina McBride). I would come to discover that, from room to room, board to board, and booth to booth, it astonishingly spanned an entire city block right to the edges of the sidwalks.

To get to that massive studio required a swing thru Music Row - the great wall of music dynasty, where careers have been made, lost, swapped, and obliterated. Where dreams come true or are dashed upon the rocks of false hopes. Where competition is celebrated and where fools are not suffered kindly.

Serge (our record label guy) Samson accompanied me on this trip through the endless layers of business and sublety that is Nashville.

And we were happy to do it.

We spent a full week at Blackbird Studios mixing our sophmore release. Terry manned the board with the ease of a schooled jazz player, equally heartfelt, equally intuitive, and equally precise. Old aircraft switches and knobs adorned outboard gear that once belonged to Abbey Road studios. I often looked at the meters dancing on those units and wondered if they did the same for John and Paul, Mr. Martin, and his engineers.

Throughout the mixing process, a myriad of people came and went from Blackbird studios - managers, musicians, singers, songwriters, producers, and kids dreaming to be at the helm. These same young men and women would run food orders for Serge and I with the eagerness and cheer only a dedicated dreamer can have. And it was easy to understand why; in Nashville, everyone was equal. Everyone had a chance. Some had already succeeded; others were on their way. But it was obvious to me that everyone was enjoying the ride.

On Broadway, I was introduced, later one evening, to the culmination of a childhood dream - visiting Tootsie's Orchid Lounge. This gritty little bar was and is the museum that Nashville built for its own; a true testament to the foundation of the entire city.

The song.

Nashville is all about songs, and Tootsie's reflected that. The walls were replete not just with excellent entertainers, but songwriters as well. Webb Peirce, Willie Nelson, Faron Young, Kris Kristofferson - they were all there, on signed five dollar bills and worn out headshots.

While I gazed at layers and layers of yellowed and signed history, a band played for the tip jar. Requests were accompanied with American 20's and bottles of Bud. I wrote "Play some Waylon" on both sides of the bill I gave them. I got two songs, and a healthy dose of humility to go along with that.

As the band played for their supper, I realized that in Nashville you could start with nothing and end up somewhere, but only if you were ready to walk that far, accept some help along the way, and give some to others as well before you got there. Ambition must be held in equal sway with musical solidarity, drive must be tempered with selflessness, hard work nurtured by warm comraderie. I learned, very quickly, that the most successful citizens of Nashville were as equally talented in the business as they were at being good neighbors.

Only the most mindful and ambitious can succeed here; those who suffer from narcissism or delusions of grandeur can sadly spend their lives knocking on doors and getting no answer.

I was unceremoniously shown that you had to fight for every greenback, entertain for every beer - from a stage the size of a postage stamp to sold out stadiums, from a mic booth in a closet to a building bigger than my home town's city hall...yet you had to do so from a place of gratitude, of humility, of respect and dignity for your musical friends and fans.

And no matter matter what, you had to have a great song by your side every step of the way.



Fin.