Musical immersion: Sweet Jane & Sweet Tea

Many describe Toronto’s Cowboy Junkies as an alternative country and folk rock act. I’ve been a fan of this band for almost three decades and saw them live years ago back in the Great White North. Never in my wildest imagination did I ever think I would attend one of their concerts in the South.

When the opportunity came up to attend a show during the All That Reckoning tour at the Franklin Theater in March, I leapt at the chance. It’s a gorgeous venue, a former movie theater, first opened on old Franklin’s main street in 1937. It now hosts movies, theater, and concerts. The Junkies’ musical style pulls together the blues, folk rock, and country into a sweetly subdued sound all their own. People sit down and absorb the luxuriant guitars, wind instruments and vocals. During the concert, I was lost and contented in the music.

Music is a powerful emotional draw for me as with most people. This music-focused blogpost coincides with my recent entries mulling my family’s experience of living here in middle Tennessee. That music is impacted by cultural influences and the history is not a new insight. What’s relevant here is the Cowboy Junkies opened their audience interaction by mentioning their early bus tours throughout the small cities of the South, and the influence of country music on their sound and writing. As it turned out, one of the first songs of the evening was “200 More Miles”:

Atlanta's a distant memory, Montgomery a recent birth

And Tulsa burns on the desert floor

Like a signal fire

I got Willie on the radio, a dozen things on my mind

And number one is fleshing out

These dreams of mine

I've got 200 more miles of rain asphalt in line before I sleep

But there'll be no warm sheets or welcoming arms

To fall into tonight

In Nashville there is a lighter in a case for all to see

It speaks of dreams and heartaches left unsung…

So, it seems music has fused who I am – the person I became thanks to where I was born and lived -- and where I live now. Obviously, there’s much more in common between Ontario and Middle Tennessee than previous stopovers in Japan or India. Still, all this thinking -- about cultural differences, history, and simply listening to the damn radio every morning on the commute to work with an open mind -- got me into a major Southern Rock phase. Heretofore I wasn’t a fan of the genre. 

I have to come clean and admit that I drive around in my electric vehicle signing along to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama” without derision and now refer to country/roots rock without use of the term “shitkicker.”  

Just for the hell of it, here’s a list of songs that, for me, best exemplify Southern Rock.  

Sweet Home Alabama  - Lynyrd Skynyrd

No Rain – Blind Melon

Ramblin' Man -  The Allman Brothers Band

Mississippi Queen - Mountain.

Black Betty - Ram Jam

The night they closed old Dixie down - The Band

Can’t you see – The Marshall Tucker Band

Southern Man – Neil Young

Let it all hang out – The Hombres

Hard to Handle – Black Crowes

All right now – Free (English band)

Slow Ride - Foghat 

American Girl - Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers

La Grange - ZZ Top

Roadhouse Blues - The Doors

Copperhead Road – Steve Earle

Rain on the Scarecrow – John Mellencamp

New Orleans is Sinking – The Tragically Hip

More Southern Exposure

We’re back from a second family vacation spent in Florida. I gleefully drove the entire way. During my time in the driver’s seat, I glimpsed telltale billboards along the interstate expressways. We also motored along backcountry two-lane highways. Lower speeds allowed me to ponder the weight of history still palpable in this region. I saw plenty of lingering damage and debris in the Florida panhandle. Many towns are still contending with the impact of Hurricane Michael of last October. Our course took us through immaculate small towns and along the Gulf coastline, and to large, growing cities. We experienced genuine hospitality and had a fine time.

Two lingering episodes from this trip come to mind that exemplify some of the South’s social characteristics.

One image is a young man in front of us in line as we waited for a roller coaster ride in Tampa’s Busch Gardens. He had Kid Rock-style arm tattoos, sported an unruly blonde mullet and a three-day beard, with jangling keys attached to his belt. His T-shirt proclaimed, “I love guns, titties and Harleys.” No judgments here; it was just interesting.

The second flashback is motoring along the I-4 from Tampa and viewing a biplane slowly bringing religion to the cloudless indigo blue skies over Orlando. He wrote “LOVE GOD. U + GOD = (Happy Face).” 

It was mesmerizing to see this slowly materialize above our heads. I later found out this religious skywriting is a regular thing. The pilot is a believer. And why not spread a little love around?

I don't intend to ruminate on what the South’s history may have wrought, or was; I am thinking about what South is, now. But....arrggh. My verbosity is once again getting the better of me. What I am unable to crystallize are thoughts like:

- Do I sense any lingering Yankee-Rebel rifts here? Answer: Not in my neighborhood, nor in my experience to date.

- Is Dixie a toxic word? Answer: Only when it’s in the context of justifying mass shootings in Charleston or Charlottesville.

- Are the mental images of Southern life framed by palmetto trees, whiffs of magnolia and slow-paced afternoons, true? Answer: Every place has its own selfie, but I have taken to drinking iced tea, if that makes sense.

 This derelict old gas station is only a few miles from where I live and evokes the stereotypical view of old time country living. 

- Are there still racial problems here? Answer: Let’s face it; it takes time to overcome the scars of history. I do think most people are trying to get along. By contrast, I have seen roadside post office boxes embossed with the Stars and Bars, and I don’t think their owners are being ironic.

At this point, I will invoke some wisdom imparted by the late, great Gord Downie: “Me debunk an American myth, and take my life in my hands.” Rather than ramble more about my unoriginal theories, allow me to drop a few photos and brief scribblings to describe what lies in my heart as I think about living and learning here in the South.

Invoking Abe in Kentucky means America has its own two solitudes. Now more than ever?

I do think about eternity when I see these billboards. Nothing wrong with soul searching at 70 mph. And tiny spiritual course corrections.

I still don’t understand. Don’t. Understand.

Ice cream eat-a-thons, country music, state fairs. "If it ain’t fried, it ain’t food.”

This was a display at the NASA Rocket Center in Huntsville, Alabama, that set the social context amid the great technological strides made to enable reaching the moon in the 60s. I have almost no experience with racism directed at me. However, the bicultural Rising Family on rare occasions detects tinges of it. There is no better way to educate my girls about real hardship experienced by people due to racial prejudice than by learning about the life of MLK. It follows that it’s wonderful to dream about, and work toward, changing the world for the better.

Sun Studio: One of the shrines to rock and roll. Oh Memphis!

Big-ass watermelon contest at the Tennessee State Fair. Our family’s love for this sweet fruit is undiminished regardless of where we live.

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