A LETTER FROM NASHVILLE

Lately, people have been asking me what it’s like to be living in Music City U.S.A. I think I’ve finally absorbed enough of the shock of the move to relate a few observations...

When viewed from afar, as a two-or-three time a year visitor, Nashville was a glittering whirlwind of pancake breakfasts, co-writing appointments, publisher meetings and happening shows where I’d press the flesh with people whose work I’d always admired and couldn’t wait to get to know. Publishers opened their doors to me, the out-of-towner, and hinted that there were big bags of money sitting around town but you kinda had to "be here" to find where they were hidden. Other musicians eager for an infusion of fresh blood and with seemingly endless time to hang out drinking coffee and shop at Kroger were just a phone call away. Seen from the inside, it’s a bit different. You know how when you’re driving down the highway and see horses by the side of the road, they’re always either cantering gaily or calmly grazing? You never ever catch them taking a dump, picking grass out of their teeth or knocking over a fence. Well folks, somehow the good people of this town create a wonderfully inviting facade to lure unsuspecting hopefuls like myself off the road and into the pasture. And the alarming thing is, everybody else manages to maintain the illusion of having it all together! Meanwhile I toil away with nary a power lunch in sight (usually more likely a Whopper Jr. from the drive thru).

I signed up for temp work at Vanderbilt University soon after arriving into town, while I waited on that million-selling country artist to cut my "edgy, yet likable" song so I could buy one of the awesomely adorable houses I’m always driving past. I had it on good authority that universities are the place to be if you want to get paid to sit around doing as much of your own work as you can get away with while providing "support" to academics even more addle-brained than your average musician. I specified that I did not want to work in the Medical Center which is of course where I was promptly sent and spent six months assisting the director of Vascular Biology. I have yet to figure out exactly what the term means, but I did learn to answer the phone quite convincingly. And good doctor Tom Daniel cleverly won my heart by bringing his entire lab to my show at the Bluebird, as well as including me in the celebration of an experiment gone right where we toasted a genetically altered mouse with champagne. I learned through Dr. Daniel that the politicking behind hospital walls is not so different from in the music biz, although the white coats give it all an air of dignity that vinyl pants and sneakers work inversely to destroy.

As an antidote to the drudgery of temping, I was fortunate to find myself back out on the road with Warren Zevon in November. I was truly happy to see him before the first show at Cat’s Cradle in North Carolina. The overwhelming feeling when I walked into this venerable Chapel Hill club was "I’ve been here before, several times, and for the same amount of money!" Memories came flooding back of CC shows over the years...Last Roundup with the Coolies (please, somebody tell me you remember the Coolies, who rocked and mocked back when irony was not a cultural imperative?!), The Shams opening for the Indigo Girls, The Shams with Peter Holsapple and Chris Stamey, my Bob Mould tour of `97 and a few others that my gig-clogged brain can’t quite recall. Of course the club has changed location about 3 times but the general ambience still brings to mind the glory days of indie rock.

Other stops on the Zevon tour:

Smith’s Olde Bar in Atlanta, which seemed damned sophisticated after holing up in Nashville for a few months! Great crowd.

My first Florida show was at the beautiful Florida Theatre in downtown Jacksonville, where people were touchingly grateful to be at a concert that didn’t consist entirely of cover songs (though a little REO Speedwagon or Sammi Smith is always appreciated). Seems not many artists travel this far south on their tours, perhaps afraid the easy living will prove irresistible? I must admit I had moments where I imagined changing my name, taking a waitress job and living on the beach. Then I’d remember my love of wool and leather and the feeling would pass...for now! On a day off I was awestruck by Daytona Speedway and several Tiki bars along Highway A1A.

Orlando’s venue was House of Blues in Downtown Disney. The oddest thing was how normal it all felt, playing an ersatz blues shack (albeit one with impeccable catering, sound, lights and stage crew) sandwiched between an immense Cirque du Soleil theatre and Virgin Megastore. Kind people bought CD’s after the show and I returned to my hotel where I was kept awake most of the night by a herd of manic children in the room above.

I spent a lovely afternoon driving backroads through tiny towns and found this part of America to be so interesting. I think I’ve crossed the Midwest a few too many times but this was all new to me! I was listening to a Doug Sahm tape that my ex-husband made for me way back when (part of the reason I married him, perhaps?) and thinking how great it is when rebellious souls combine disparate elements cause it’s all they know how to do. The rebellion comes in when they insist on keeping it that way! How sad I was to learn later that night the rumors and then confirmation of Sir Doug’s death. I never met him but I really miss him...

St. Petersburg has always interested me, being the birthplace of fellow Sham Amanda Uprichard as well as the hometown of Exene Cervenka and the Dali Museum. An actual speedboat parked in the lobby of my hotel, attended by a couple of Hooters girls, convinced me that this was indeed my kind of place. The show at Jannus Landing was lots of fun and as usual a few hardcore Warren fans pleaded with me to get them closer to the man himself. Some complicated subterfuge got him out unscathed while I consoled the inebriated with copies of my CD.

Another day off found me back in Orlando at the Richard Petty Driving Experience. After signing several pieces of paper where I basically I agreed to my own death, I was zipped around a racetrack at 160 mph. Although at times reminiscent of travelling on the BQE (minus the potholes), this was so much fun I at least know what my backup career plan is if this music thing doesn’t work out.

West Palm Beach was the last stop on this delightful trip. The proximity to the luxury of Palm Beach made it imperative that I hit as many thrift shops as possible. The Carefree Theater was very thirties, as was most of the crowd: one of the best audiences ever! Several of Warren’s Rock Bottom Remainder buddies were in attendance: Carl Hiassen was quite animated on electric guitar and Kathi Kamen Goldmark was kind enough to give me a copy of her Rock’n’Roll Joke Book so I could add to my repertoire of drummer jokes.

I was sad to say goodbye to Mr. Zevon, his wonderful songs and casual yet classy gray clothing (thank God there’s a new album to listen to - Life’ll Kill Ya!) and equally heartbroken to leave Florida after catching the slightest glimpse of Miami on my way to the airport. I know I’ll be back...

Trying to adjust to Nashville, I did manage to sneak backstage at the Grand Ole Opry one night and met one of my alltime idols, Skeeter Davis. She was as endearing as her records and we spent some time talking about bad relationships, country music and rock musicians. And bad relationships. In the next room, Garth Brooks was locking eyes with anyone brave enough to look his way. My visiting friend Randy Gerber could not escape a bear hug from Garth, and the next day mysteriously ran out and bought a Kenny Chesney album. Luckily, all of Garth’s powers couldn’t make him spring for a Chris Gaines CD as well.

The kindly fellows of Y’all put together a NY to Nashville night at the Sutler in December which was a lot of fun. These guys are truly inspiring - check out their ever-changin’ website www.luckygreendress.com. My awesome band consisted of Bill Lloyd, Byron House and Rick Schell. Not to mention the very talented Pete Finney on steel guitar. It was great to share the bill with Steven and Jay, as well as Kristi Rose and Tim Carroll, two familiar faces who’ve both thrived since leaving the East Village behind.

I made a visit to New York City in early December to share a bill at the Bowery Ballroom with Marshall Crenshaw and Jim Lauderdale. It was heaven to be back in the city. I think I’ll be alright as long as I keep making frequent trips. An arugula and chevre salad had me convulsing with pleasure, as did my first slice of real Brooklyn pizza. And just looking at everyone...the people dress so well, even the cabdrivers start to look stylish after a month or two in Middle Tennessee!

A Northeast trip during the holidays was also satisfying - I booked a show at the Lakeside Lounge that was truly enjoyable and a great chance to see a bunch of friends. Joe McGinty, Jon Graboff and John Abbey accompanied me down to Arlington, VA for a lovely night at Iota. This is one of my very favorite clubs and it’s not just the bread pudding and cognac talking...

Back to Nashville again and it was time to buckle down and begin work on a new album! A full report is coming soon, complete with photos.

Amy