Nashville
AS WILLIE NELSON took the stage to sing "Whiskey River" at a recent live broadcast of Nashville Star, I swear I could hear the sound of snowplow engines turning over in hell. Nelson, the father of the outlaw country movement in the '70s, earned his spurs by giving the finger to the imaging junkies and spreadsheet cowboys of Nashville mainstream and forging his own path to fame across the dirt floors of Texas roadhouses. And here he was. The Red Headed Stranger. In the belly of the plastic beast.
Et tu, Willie?
NASHVILLE STAR is the USA Network's contribution to the crowded halls of reality television. It's American Idol meets The Real World, where wannabe country stars travel from all over to compete for the hearts of corn-fed America and a major record deal with Sony. Now in its second season, the final dozen or so contestants have been given the keys to a tricked out house on Music Row and are filmed navigating each other's personalities, providing, in theory, an inside look at the sausage making of the music industry.
Hosted by the robotic vixen Nancy O'Dell and broadcast live each week, the competitors take the stage at the Roy Acuff Theater, whose new set looks like a cross between Who Wants To Be A Millionaire and the New York, New York casino in Las Vegas. Backed by some of Music City's finest session players, contestants toss their hair and flex their musical muscle by performing a song consistent with the week's theme. Tonight's theme: the music of Willie Nelson.
The USA Network chose a panel of judges who, unlike American Idol's Hollywood Squares loaner, Paula Abdul, are still relevant to the market: Tracy Gershon is the head of artist development at Sony Records; the Warren Brothers, while not exactly changing the course of music, have been nominated as duo of the year by the Country Music Association five times running, and Billy Greenwood is a DJ at WSIX country radio in Nashville.
As I took my seat, the first thing that struck me was the fans. Most of the crowd was divided into sections according to the performer they supported. It felt like a redneck rendering of the big battle scene from Braveheart, with each clan rattling their glitter signs with puffy paint and mesh-back trucker hats to prepare for war.
THIS WASN'T the music business I know. I began singing and writing songs professionally about eight years ago in Atlanta. The first time I realized that I had truly made the plunge into the business, I was playing a gig at the Central City Tavern in Buckhead. It was about 2:00 a.m. and most of the patrons were sufficiently lubed from tequila shots. I was in the middle of covering Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl" when a blue-eyed sorority lass leapt on the stage and began scratching my back. Normally this would be one of those rock-and-roll moments you dream about as a child. Heck, this was why I took guitar lessons in the first place.
It wasn't everything I'd dreamed of. Without a hint of embarrassment, the girl asked me if I would please change the lyrics to "Blue Eyed Girl" in her honor. She was obviously drunk, but when I tried to laugh it off she began to cuss me up a blue streak. I'll never forget it. She had the prettiest smile on her face the whole time. Just as I asked her if she "kissed her momma with that tongue," I noticed that she had thrown up red wine on the front of her white sweater. It was horrifying. And she was still scratching my back. I began to understand what people meant when they talked about paying your dues.
Since then I've moved to Nashville and put out two records. I've played just about every dirt-hole bar and slept in every 6 and 8 in America (that would be Motel 6 and Super 8). To save money I've curled up with my pistol in a tent at various KOA campgrounds--I've even slept in my car. I have a hard-earned grassroots following that's loyal and I love them.
So, I'm not going to lie. When I went to see Nashville Star, I had a knife in my teeth and intended to come home with scalps.
THERE'S SOMETHING fundamentally offensive about these sorts of reality shows. Nashville Star is trying to waive the cover charge of fame. The contestants were mainly singing other people's songs and for that, were going to be rewarded with a major record deal and an opportunity to be heard by hundreds of thousands. At Nashville Star there were no dues being paid; there was no vomit.
But worse than that, Nashville Star is a headhunt for country music's next flavor of the month. This lack of authenticity was the very thing I set out against when I moved to Nashville. I even named my back-up band The Nashville Resistance. I've been on my own country music holy war (a Yee-Haad, if you will).
AS WILLIE NELSON left the stage the contestants' names were drawn at random. After being tapped, they had about 30 seconds to pick up their instrument of choice, get on stage, and lay their musical offering at His feet. No pressure.
It was during the third performance that I realized I was actually enjoying myself. I felt like the kid who just admitted that he liked playing Barbie with his sister.
SADLY, there was no denying that these people could sing. Lance Miller has a classic country voice and opened with a tight version of the "On The Road Again," Brad Cotter crushed a rendition of "The Last Thing I Needed," and Jennifer Hicks made me want to follow her home with "Momma Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys."
Reading the contestants' bios, I realized that not all of them were walk-ons. Many had spent time in the trenches. Marty Slayton has been on the road for years as a back up singer with Lorrie Morgan, George Strait, and Reba McEntire. Jennifer Hicks is a staff writer for Warner/Chappell and her father is the steel guitar player for Barefoot Jerry. Last year's winner, Buddy Jewel, has been a Music Row rat for years.
STILL, there was something that bothered me about Nashville Star, but I wouldn't put my finger on it until the next night. I was driving and listening to "Big River," sung by Willie, Waylon, Johnny Cash, and Kris Kristofferson, when it hit me: If Willie or any of the patron saints of country music had tried out for Nashville Star today, they wouldn't have made it through the first round. They would be seen as culturally irrelevant--the same way most of them were treated back when they started out.
Its easy now to see that Willie Nelson's credibility is 200-proof, but he earned every fluid ounce of it from decades on the road. After years of running the gauntlet in Nashville and not being able to get a break, he took his nylon-string guitar, went back to Texas, and began to tour on his own. The rest is history.
Willie Nelson succeeded despite the status quo, not because of it. He didn't sit around and wait for his music to be validated by Nashville or the industry. He got in the water, began to paddle, and ended up turning country music's battleship. In the end, he became something greater than he ever would have had he chosen to toe the line in Nashville.
The contestants on Nashville Star may very well be talented, but we'll never know if they have real depth. The show is more about pop-culture and flogging known quantities than it is about finding an icon. The contestants are placed in a musical biosphere where they can bloom quickly but never put down any real roots. As a result, I'll bet dollars to donuts that even the most successful will be nothing more than a Trivial Pursuit question in a year or two.
In fairness to Nashville Star, you can't just go out and find the next Willie Nelson. Artists like him aren't found in talent shows, they're cultural phenomena who tend to be reactions to things like Nashville Star. Take Dylan, Johnny Cash, The Clash, or any act that served as a cultural pivot point: they were responses to what was going on musically, not extensions of it.
Don't get me wrong, Nashville Star has its place, even if it's just to provide us with enough of a sugar high that we eventually crash and crave something of substance. But ultimately it's cheap glamour, makeup without a face.
As for me, even if I wanted to, I don't think that I could fit into Nashville Star's box. But that's okay; the Yee-Haad continues.
Billy Cerveny is a singer-songwriter in Nashville. He and his music can be found at www.billycerveny.com.