The Invention of Nashville
I need to dress cooler. I need a more attractive power stance when I perform. I need to buy some hair product.
Because people, especially the important ones in Nashville, tend to listen with their eyes as much, if not more than, their ears.
I’ve often been a bit discouraged at my lack of coolness. But I’m usually even more discouraged by sincerely talented artists and musicians trying to convince me they’re cool. A few weeks ago, though, I spotted hope on both counts.
We (an awesome band I play bass for sometimes) were waiting to perform in our hometown of Nashville, sipping beer at the bar. A few opening acts had already played, and when the final opener came on stage, I began listening with my eyes. Before they even played a note, they sounded bad. They didn’t have tight jeans and suave hair. They didn’t look a little pissed off. There was a girl in a hoodie playing djembe. For those that don’t know, a djembe is an African drum that’s pretty cool…but only if it’s 2003 and you’re a high schooler playing at the local open mic night. Somebody needed to tell them this was Nashville, Tennessee not Muncie, Indiana.
It took a couple songs for me to actually get past their seeming “non-professionalism.” But then I actually started listening. I started to hear the lyrics. They were really, really good. When the girl djembe player was about to sing, I winced. But it turned out she had a beautiful voice. And then I had a bizarre realization:
This band was the only real artist on the bill.
Have you ever seen the movie, The Invention of Lying? It’s hilarious. Basically it’s a about a man living in a world in which lying has not yet been invented. Here’s a clip:
What makes an artist* attractive, what makes them actually cool, is when they are comfortable with who they really are. A lot of artists these days don’t even know who they are. Either they don’t know how to find out or they’re terrified at what they might find if they looked within themselves. And then a lot of the ones who actually do know themselves expend enormous effort trying to convince people they’re somebody else. This makes rejection a bit more bearable, which in their case, is bound to come eventually.
Here’s how the average Nashville artist’s small talk goes in between songs:
“So, my name is First Name Middle Name (because my last name is Schnelvinghausen), and I have an album, you can buy it every place someone would actually look without me telling you, and also be sure to like me on Facebook. This next song I co-wrote with Someone who can write well because they have actually learned their own heart. It’s called…”
But here’s what this opener artist said:
“So I’m kind of nervous about my pants tonight. I got these jeans at TJ Maxx and the zipper keeps falling down. So…I keep checking it. I think it was TJ Maxx…This next song is called…”
I almost wet myself I was laughing so hard. That was probably the most real thing I had ever heard a Nashville performer say. And it was also the only Nashville performer I had ever heard of who wore jeans from TJ Maxx. I loved it.
There were other artists that sang better that night. They were more put together. They dressed better, but who cares? The only one I got to know was the TJ Maxx shopper. He was the only one I remembered because he was the only one who really told the truth.
I wonder what the music industry would look like if everyone was that real.
Oh well. I’m gonna go buy some $500 jeans now.
B
* or anybody, really
