[This is the penultimate stage of my holiday posting. Back to normal in a couple of days…]
The Grand Ole Opry
The Grand Ole Opry is both a Southern institution and a slick money-making operation. Where once it had been situated in the famous Ryman auditorium in downtown Nashille, now it is in “Opryland”, which is an enormous complex that comprises hotel, restaurants, shopping mall, cinema, and of course the famous Grand Ole Opry itself – the glittering rhinestone in the crown.
We had great seats (unusually for me) and no sooner had we taken our pew about twenty minutes before showtime, than a series of adverts began. These were interspersed with a video history of the GOO and footage of the huge flood of a few years ago, which caused the Opry’s temporary relocation. By the time all this preamble was over I felt fully part of the family (or circle).
The show, for anyone who doesn’t know, is broadcast weekly on radio (and has been for the thick end of a hundred years) and this dictates its format; there is a wide range of artists (we saw about 10 or 12) who sing a couple of songs each. There is somebody for everyone–we saw a couple of young bucks, two generations of George Hamilton (numbers IV and V. VI is still in training), and a sprightly 93-year old in glittering cowboy regalia who goes by the name of Little Jimmie Dixon. The Little nickname was given to him by Hank Williams, the lonesome songwriting genius of Country and the reason I wanted to visit the Opry.
Viewing the show live took a bit of getting used to because it is so segmented and interspersed with adverts. These words or messages, as they are called, are read live by a honey-voiced chap who stands stage left. He is introduced as one of the artists and specialises in delightfully corny links, such as, “Well that certainly was a beautiful song and if you want a beautiful side of ham then you should head down to Dollar General…”
Not a single advertising opportunity is overlooked, whether it is Dollar General pushing their kitchen towels, the Johnny Cash museum pushing its unrivalled collection of memorabilia, the singers pushing their latest recrods, or even the Opry itself pushing its backstage tours, but, did we enjoy the show? Surely. The overall tone was inclusive, nostalgic and sentimental, but, I suspect, it is music that will appeal more and more as I get older. And I fully expect that the Grand Ole Opry family will still be there, ready and waiting to welcome me back. At least, I hope so!
Country Music Hall of Fame and Studio B
This was the first time on the trip that I hesitated before paying up for a ticket to something. Entry to the Country Music Hall of Fame Museum and Studio B costs $39.95, which is not by any means a trifle. Unfortunately, it is not possible to visit Studio B without paying up for the museum too. As it turned out, however, I would have missed out had I indulged my cheapskate instincts–the museum was engrossing and my fear of huge rooms filled with pairs of Garth Brooks’ boots and startling shirts proved unwarranted.
Studio B is but a short bus ride away from the museum (where you purchase the tickets) on Music Row and the tour was well-organised, short and sweet with the highlight being listening to some of the classic RCA recordings in the studio itself: again the studio sound was exquisite and when The King’s “Are You Lonesome Tonight” began to play, it was spellbinding. Being told before the record started that the upcoming and, at that point, nameless song had been recorded in near total darkness at 4am added to the sense of anticipation about what was going to be unveiled and, I am delighted to be able to brag, that I correctly guessed it was going to be Are you lonesome. My natural Presley instincts perhaps… Anyway, RCA did produce a lot of music that doesn’t do much for me (Don Gibson and “Gentleman” Jim Reeves anyone?), but for the 250 Elvis recordings I can forgive a lot.
The Museum and Hall of Fame were much better than I had expected. Rather than focusing on individual musicians (or “artists”), the emphasis was on musical styles and developments, e.g. Bakersfield, Western etc. This put the names in context and helped me to learn some of the whys and the whats, in addition to the whoms. I left inspired to dig a bit deeper into country, perhaps starting with Hank jnr (honky tonk or hard country), although I do declare that I will never don boots in London.
Johnny Cash Museum
The Johnny Cash Museum was second on my target list for Nashville but we very nearly didn’t make it after being forced to endure the remoreseless advertising for it at the Grand Ole Opry. Every time they mentioned its “unrivalled collection of memorabilia and apparel”, my heart sank. Thankfully, I managed to leave most of my cynicism in London so we stuck to the plan and stumped up for the tickets. The unique thing about this museum was the amount of music and video footage that is made available. There are lots of listening posts where you can choose one of the Big Man’s songs (organised by decade) and contentedly lose yourself beneath a pair of big fluffy headphones. It was a thoroughly enjoyable walk through the Big Man’s rich and varied life. I think without empathy and heart folk singing is pointless and JC had both of those in spades; listening to some of his prison concerts and watching him performing Ira Hayes to an audience of native Americans was a reminder of why the man is so loved.
On the other hand, while JC’s music is well known to me, what I didn’t know was just how much acting he has done… and bad acting, it must be said. He always seemed to play a more stern and one-dimensional version of himself. The Man in Black was also a committed doodler, which is another hobby I would not have expected for a man with more gravitas than a court full of judges. But perhaps his sense of humour has not always come through as it should have–in his high school yearbook, where his classmates were described as “perky” or “fun-loving”, JC was “droll”.
Oh, and the museum’s collection of apparel and souvenirs is indeed extensive, but I didn’t see anything likely to improve on my recordings of Jackson or Hurt, and so I left the mugs and t-shirts for somebody else to enjoy.