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
Next: hot times in Phoenix.
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