Travelin' Lady

Nashville: A Little Bit Country,
A Whole Lotta Rock ’n’ Roll

By Terry Murphy


OK, I admit it, I’m a city girl and a bit of a snob when it comes to country music. The very first strains of a slide guitar from the car radio prompts a Pavlovian push of the button seeking *any* station playing *anything* else.

Yes, I live in Atlanta, Georgia; and yes, my home is made in the middle the Bible Belt, but as some of us here like to say, “Atlanta is *in* the South, but it’s not *of* the South.”

Well, at least hard-boiled ex-New York carpetbaggers such as yours truly like to say that. It’s a statement that sets the teeth of my truly Southern friends on edge. Fortunately for me, I must have some other, rather more attractive characteristics because my acquaintances are kind enough and polite enough (a very Southern trait) to overlook my irritating sense of Yankee superiority.

Bless their hearts...

That’s the kind of thing that peppers the everyday utterances of even the most degenerate sinners (again, yours truly) throughout the South. I truly love the odd and colorful expressions that are so common to Southern dialects. Never mind the delightful accents per se, Southerners up and down the social scale speak in wonderful rhythms and toss off the most charming turns of phrase.

I’m less enamored of Southern music, a.k.a. country music (Patsy Cline, of course, being the diva-esque exception). So, a recent invitation to visit Nashville, Tennessee provoked both excitement and a moment of ennui.

Excitement because I was to visit my dear friend Marisa Richmond, the founder of the excellent Tennessee Vals support group, board member of AEGIS and all around fabulous party girl. On top of that, I was invited to address a Transgender Mixer that was scheduled as part of the city’s week long celebration of L/G/B/T Pride. What fun!

Ennui because Nashville is, after all, Music City -- the literal and spiritual home of the entire country music business. Though it’s a mere four hours by car from Atlanta, I had visited Nashville only once, in the ‘80s, on a business trip. During those travels I stayed mostly in the suburbs and experienced Nashville only through the eyes of my business contacts. They were total strangers who, though nice enough, did reinforce my rather regrettable prejudices about the city being populated by, at best, bland white-bread capital “C” Christians and, at worst, low-rent, redneck trailer trash who would happily kick my sissy butt should they find out I prefer Chanel to Brook Brothers. How wrong can a girl be?

Well, in my case, pretty sorry-assed wrong. My second visit to Nashville, in June, blew me away! This is one rockin’ town, full of fun, open-minded and creative people. The economy is booming, the architecture is gorgeous, the drinks are strong and the club scene is flawless.

Honey, the thought of relocating *did* cross my mind that weekend; so you *know* it was the real deal.

I blew into town on a Thursday afternoon and Marisa settled me into her comfy townhouse for the weekend. We caught up on news as we prepped for the evening’s event, the Pride Week Transgender Mixer. Marisa showed me some of the local community publications, all of which contained Pride Week ads and listings that included the TG Mixer. It was more prominent and visible inclusion than the T community gets at Atlanta’s much larger Pride celebration. I was impressed.

Off we went to The Silver Stirrup, a lovely cocktail lounge that is part of The Chute, a vast gay entertainment club in a lovely old intown neighborhood. The Stirrup consisted of two rooms, the outer being a pub-style bar with quiet background music. Set off by double French doors was a sitting room furnished tastefully with expensive couches and easy chairs set before a fireplace, with cocktail tables along the walls. The Vals sponsored the event, and provided a nice spread of sandwiches and nibbles that was catered by The Chute.

As we arrived, there was a small crowd on hand and happy hour was in full swing in the outer bar (two-for-one drinks -- yikes!) I was introduced around and enjoyed greeting some old friends who have joined us in Atlanta for Southern Comfort each fall, and many new ones. Eventually, about 20 T people were on hand, and Maris got the ball rolling by introducing me. At that, the French doors were closed on the noise of the outside bar. As I started a short, rather impromptu presentation -- first about Southern Comfort (which I run) and then about IFGE (I’m on the board) -- I noticed that a significant percentage of the small and very attentive crowd were non-T folks -- presumably mostly gay and lesbian. Among them were officials of the Pride Week committee and representatives of the local gay press. Very cool. I kept my remarks to less than 10 minutes, assuming that most folks were there out of Southern politesse.

It was my second underestimation of the fine city of Nashville. I finished, and Marisa opened the floor to questions, thus beginning more than an hour of some of the most sincere and productive give-and-take that touched on all of the important issues facing transgendered folk, including our sometimes awkward interaction with the larger queer community.

I was even called upon to detail my personal gender journey, and I gave it to ‘em with both barrels.

I loved it, and the crowd seemed very interested and involved. Terrific stuff.

Finally we shut things down and most of the group stayed for another hour or so, asking more questions and enjoying each other’s company. Eventually, we wandered elsewhere in the large Chute complex to the dance bar, where karaoke was in full swing.

Let me tell you girlfriends, they don’t call it Music City for nothin’. Most of the intrepid singers who got up to the microphone could really sing; a few were outstandingly talented. (More than a few of the folks I met that weekend were professionals employed in the music biz -- just like L.A., only friendly!)

After a long night in The Chute, Marisa and I awoke at the crack of noon on Friday (she’s a college prof and off for the summer). After Maris ran some errands, she took me on a fun driving tour of this boomtown. We returned in time to leisurely prepare for the evening. We met Jennileigh Love, Pamela DeGroff and Anne Casebeer at a cute little gay restaurant where we dined beautifully on a special Cajun pasta and revived our spirits with more generous Nashville cocktails. The waiters were delightful, and the food quite delicious. And the Vals picked up my tab! (Thanks girls!)

Dodging thunderstorms, we embarked for The Connection. It’s billed as the largest gay nightclub in the country, a claim I am happy to support having now visited it.

We entered into a gorgeous dance bar that was bordered by a soaring glass wall. What a concept; a gay bar with windows -- and *huge* ones at that. A lot of gay clubs in other cities around the country can take a lesson from Nashville’s Connection; let the sun (and the moon) shine in, honey.

And yes, they *were* playing country music in this, the first of three bars in The Connection. A few of the early crowd of guys and gals were boot skootin’ around just like on TNN (cable TV’s The Nashville Network).

BTW, on our city tour that afternoon, Marisa brought me through the beautifully renovated river front area. It’s jammed backed with cute shops, restaurants and clubs (mostly straight), including the actual club from which that country dance show on TNN is broadcast live! Elsewhere in the city, you can visit Music Row, populated by the recording studios of every major record company’s country music division; visit the Country Music Hall of Fame, and stroll the grounds of the pretty state capitol, which was augmented by an impressive park populated by gorgeous stone obelisks that detail the state’s first 100 years of history. Truly impressive.

The energy that commissioned that kind of expensive civic project (which you just don’t see in other cities in the ‘90s) is making Nashville more prominent on the national pop culture scene as well. This town aint just about country music and college sports anymore; an NFL franchise will play there next year in a spectacular new stadium, and an National Hockey League team is coming as well.

I can tell you truthfully, this town is on a roll! Anyway, back to Connections. We passed from the boot skooters back into a hiNrg dance bar that would easily house a fleet of commercial airliners. Most impressive.

The gem of Connections was yet to come, however. Through double doors off the dance bar was the biggest, best-equipped show bar I have *ever* seen. Bar none. This place was the bomb!

A huge, elevated stage, with a catwalk out into the audience would be the envy of most major professional theater companies around the country. High-tech lighting and a first-class sound system were evident even before the show started.

By the time the soaring black curtain opened, a substantial Friday night crowd had gathered. Every one of probably 100 tables on the main floor were full, and the bar that spanned the back of the room, was equally populated. By intermission, it was pretty much SRO. (Marisa tells me Saturday night is the “big night” in the show bar. If you not there at least 45 minutes before show time, you can barely squeeze into the place. (Hot damn....)

And girl...when that show started, it was obvious why the crowd was there! Five hot sisters came thumping out and whipped through a tightly choreographed version of the Spice Girl’s first pop hit.

OK, now I know exactly what you are going to say. In the past few months, you and I and every drag fan has seen a million versions of this number. Every cast of every drag show in every drag bar in America has done “Wannabe” and most of those shows truly were wannabe -- just tired, tired, tired. Granted...

But not this one! Girlfriends had it *goin’ on.* Costumes, dancing, lip synching, choreography -- all were spot on. It was fierce, girl; just fah-earsss! (That’s the two-syllable version of that word; we do that in the South doncha know. ;-)

From there, the show progressed through individual numbers by each of probably seven queens, and some pretty entertaining comedy from the diva herself. During the inevitable portion of the show when the drag emcee ventures into the audience to say hello and mine the crowd for humor, even I came in for a little attention (Marisa -- I’ll get you for that!)

Actually, that surprised me somewhat. It’s my experience in Atlanta and the millions of drag shows I’ve seen elsewhere, that performing queens don’t single out crossdressers in the audience for that kind of attention, though they do often introduce other performers who happen to be in the audience -- which I don’t happen to be. Anyway, she was quite nice and kind, and I survived.

Needless to say, we closed the joint -- staying for the second show, which also opened with a flawless production number. Those girls were fabulous. It might have been the best drag show I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen ‘em all sister -- SF, NYC, London, wherever. So, I’m humbled. My eye-opening visit to Marisa and the Vals in Nashville was a real trip -- literal and figurative.

Eventually, Saturday afternoon dawned and I sadly had to take my leave. There was a plane to catch in Atlanta midday Sunday, and I knew the Music City girls would be keepin’ this awe-struck Yankee just too, too late on a Nashville Saturday night. So I said my good-byes and heart-felt thank yous, and packed up for home.

As I hit the highway, I tuned my radio to a county music station and pumped the volume way up, thinking to myself. “This town rocks; and I didn’t hardly see a cowboy hat all weekend!”

For detailed info on clubs, restaurants and activities in Nashville, be sure to visit the Vals outstanding web page right here in Transgender Forum's Community area at http://www.3dcom.com/tg/tvals/index.html

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