Hot chicken, blistering guitars in Music City
Nashville’s power to disarm and delight remains rooted in its tapestry of musicians
“Folsom Prison Blues,” the 1955 Johnny Cash classic, isn’t exactly a deep cut — anyone with even a passing familiarity with country music has heard it. So when the Don Kelley Band tore into the opening riff at the beginning of their set at Robert’s Western World — one of many honky-tonks on a brightly lit neon strip of Broadway in downtown Nashville, Tenn. — I nodded my head and tapped my feet along with the other hundred or so people in the joint. It was the musical equivalent of comfort food — nothing too surprising or challenging. I wasn’t quite ready for what happened next.
Luke McQueary, a skinny 17-yearold in a plaid Western-style shirt, stepped to the front of the stage and, instead of delivering the workmanlike guitar break I was expecting, set the stage aflame with a blistering solo I would have expected from someone twice his age and experience. It was no fluke — the virtuosity continued during the following song, performed with an earnest, almost Hendrix-like showmanship.
I was surprised, but I shouldn’t have been. A place nicknamed “Music City” has a reputation to uphold, and Nashville was more than ready to exceed my expectations. Tennessee not only has more high-quality live music than you could ever hope to enjoy, but top-notch dining — both traditional Southern cooking and contemporary twists on old standards. It’s a great location for those on a budget, too — I scarcely noticed the damage to my wallet after a fournight trip there in November.
That area of Broadway is a little like the Las Vegas Strip or Bourbon Street: crowded and touristy, but fun in small doses. I visited there with my friend Halena Kays, with whom I crashed in nearby Murfreesboro, a suburb southeast of the city. We ended up at Robert’s Western World accidentally, as our plans to have dinner at nearby Merchants Restaurant, on the corner of Broadway and Fourth Avenue South, had hit a snag — the place was booked solid. No matter: We grabbed a $4 (U.S.) fried bologna sandwich (imagine a BLT — now imagine it twice as salty) and a couple of $4.25 Miller Lites at the honky-tonk while we listened to the aforementioned band.
I soon received a text that a table had opened up and we walked over to Merchant’s. The place effectively operates as two restaurants, a pricier steak and seafood restaurant on the second floor, and a less expensive, modern Southern bistro on the ground floor. We opted for the latter and grabbed a booth in the bright, spacious dining room. The fried green tomatoes ($11) were spot-on, and the Nashville Caesar salad with cornbread croutons ($12) and a pulled pork sandwich ($13) were satisfying.
That strip of Broadway is just a stone’s throw from Ryman Auditorium, an indelible piece of Nashville history that belongs on every to-do list, especially if the Grand Ole Opry happens to be in residence. The Opry, an artistic home to country musicians since it began in 1925, takes place primarily at Opryland, about 25 minutes northeast of downtown. But if you can, see the show at the Ryman, home to the show from 1943-1974, which sometimes still hosts the Opry. Onto the show — the Opry was one of the most pleasurable music performances I’ve attended in recent memory. After grabbing a $9 draft beer, we found our seats to the din of audience chatter and the buttery baritone of the evening’s announcer and emcee, Eddie Stubbs. The Opry functions simultaneously as a live radio show, broadcast on 650 AM WSM. If you’re familiar with public radio’s Live From Here (the show formerly known as A Prairie Home Companion), it functions in a similar way. Different acts come on and play just two or three songs — while that’s happening, the next act is hanging out in the wings, which gives the show a casual, collegial quality.
An announcer’s podium is set up stage right, along with different producers and assistants working on their laptops — bands tune their instruments, guests chatter and banter with Stubbs, who also functions as an impeccable straight man, and the audience groans and chuckles while cheesy ad copy is read during the breaks. It’s a ton of fun. And then, of course, there’s the music.
“Connie Smith, ladies and gentlemen, the Rolls-Royce of country singers,” announced Stubbs, who then motioned for us to applaud. Traditional crooners such as Smith were in the house, as was a freshfaced young man named William Michael Morgan, who played his debut single “I Met a Girl.”
I later made my way to the Bluebird Cafe, a popular, intimate venue that features local and established acts. Tickets are, well, extremely difficult to come by (it’s been showcased on the television show Nashville).
They’re released weekly by the venue and space is tight, which means you have to be both lightning-quick and lucky to nab a seat. If you’re in, you’re golden — tickets typically run in the $20 to $30 range. Another highly enjoyable show I attended was at the Basement East, on the other side of the Cumberland River in East Nashville. The venue was decidedly less intimate than Bluebird, but I couldn’t complain about the program — a Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young tribute show, with proceeds benefitting Autism Speaks. For $10 (plus $2 service fee) I was treated to a Murderer’s Row of young, local talent. Highlights included Jesse Lynn Madera performing a lovely cover of “Don’t Let It Bring You Down” and Amber Woodhouse leading the excellent house band in a stirring rendition of “For What It’s Worth.”
While music is unquestionably the star of the Nashville scene, there are exceptional eats to enjoy between shows. Hot chicken, which has seen its star rise over the past decade, is one of the biggest attractions.
I loved my crispy-skinned, exhilaratingly spicy leg quarter from Prince’s Hot Chicken ($5) which has no equal, in my opinion. But it also took an hour of waiting in line. It took no time to get my order at Pepperfire, another worthwhile hotchicken joint less than 10 minutes away from Prince’s. There, I dug into a Tender Royale, a spicy, deep-fried cheese sandwich topped with three chicken tenders ($12.49) with a strong, cumin-forward profile.
For those looking for a complete South- ern meal, Arnold’s Country Kitchen is the place to find it. The classic meat-andthree (main course and three side dishes) runs just $10.74 for a huge tray full of food. I had a plate of thinly shaved roast beef with mac and cheese, tender greens and powerfully smoky pinto beans. Cafe Roze, a place with slightly healthier fare from New York-transplant Julia Jaksic, does a mean grain bowl called the Roze Bowl ($14) with beet tahini, black lentils and quinoa. And then there’s the happy hour at Chauhan Ale and Masala House, an Indian-Southern food fusion restaurant, where I got an order of lamb keema papadi nachos with a tamarind chutney ($6) that I still think about weeks after the fact.
But Nashville’s power to disarm and delight remains rooted in its music. When I attended the Opry, two guys who go by the handle LoCash strutted onto the stage in what came as the biggest surprise of the night. At first glance, LoCash seemed to epitomize the slick twang of everything I don’t particularly enjoy about modern country music — impeccably crafted facial hair, power chords and tacky clothes. Halena grabbed my arm, and I braced myself for awfulness.
Boy, was I wrong; These guys were fantastic performers. Within minutes, they had me and the rest of the audience eating out their hands — clapping and singing along to a song I’d never heard before. I don’t know if their exceedingly catchy “I Love This Life” will go down in the annals of country music’s great songs. But it was easily the most fun four minutes of the trip, and had me unironically singing the refrain the entire car ride home: I love a Friday night — man, I love this life.