Nashvillean Magnetism.

   “Real folk music long ago went to Nashville and left no known survivors.”

   Or so Donal Henahan correctly summarized years ago. The city, at first, looks like most cities do. Chain restaurants color the roads with their familiar colors, corporate headquarters tower high into the air without purpose or remorse, locals work the shops and walk the streets with a knowing spark in their eyes and an unamused look on their faces., sick of the outsider's bizarre stares of bewilderment. It's another city. Simple.
   Except that it's not. There's a bronze to the town that can't be seen, only felt. As if it's been painted with the twang a screaming steel guitar about to implode under it's own dust-stirring pressure can make. The town doesn't just house musicians, it lives and breath with them.  Nashville, for all intents and purposes, is music. From the low-fi indie popping out of car stereos to the burnt country pouring from ancient speakers and onto the pale, gray streets, there's an undeniable soul to the place. You can almost taste the Bob Marley track the cook was listening to while he made your sandwich. In most cases the town produces the culture, in this case the culture produced the town. Class, Sirs & Mademoiselles. Class...

   And that's that. For shit's and grins, here's what what on:

1. Friday night entailed two tired, worn guys going out to 2nd Ave and stumbling across an Irish pub that threw down a mean Irish breakfast and a few much-appreciated Snake Bites.
2. Saturday morning was a sleep in, go to breakfast at a Jewish deli thing. Corned beef hash & rye toast starts a day quite well.
3. From Jewish deli to Athens, Greece? Only in Nashville apparently. In less than an hour I walked from the set of Seinfeld to the set of Rome. Random, to say the least. Due to Nashville being dubbed "The Athens of the South" they built a full-scale replica of The Parthenon. It, to say the least, is bad ass.
4. From there it was back to the hotel to get ready to go back out and initially get lost in downtown Nashville. Ever walked over 40 blocks for samosas, lamb curry, and a glass of King Fisher? We did. And it ruled. Also to note: The disgusting Hustler Novelty Shop in Nashville also has a cafe' in it. Blech.
5. Trendy? Yes. Full of punkass college brats? Certainly. Kind of awesome due to a 300 beer selection? Most definitely.  We went to The Flying Saucer, a bar that offers something called a "Beer Flight" which consists of five 5oz. samples of various draught beers from around the globe. I took the German flight and it tasted like freedom (ha!).
6. We met Peppa's buddy Reese at The Basement, a nice little bar where actually locals hang out and watch incredibly good local bands play. I was really taken by the opening act, a gal named Chelsea Scott who played great, great singer-songwriter songs reminiscent of Imogen Heap and Patsy Cline doing a duets album. I really dug that she was accompanied by some cat with a banjo. It was swell.
  *More awesomeness occurred at the Basement that I will omit here because I simply choose to do so. so don't be a bitch and get all asky.*
7. Sunday we got up and drove home, stopping only once to rape a vending machine with nickels and dimes. Why they choose to refrigerate Cheez-Its and cinnamon buns, I'll never know. It was cool and gross.
8. To cap the weekend we went to go see Smokin' Aces with our main attraction Britney. It rocked more ass than Jason Bateman in a bra and panties (which it also rocked). Twas bitchin'.

And zat, as they zey, is zat. Hope yours was as good as mine.

But it wasn't.

- E.