In the latter half of 2019, just before the world came to a screeching halt for an extended period of time because of COVID-19 and the left’s attempt to do everything it could to destroy our country, I took two trips that left a lasting mark on my sense of patriotism and pride in this country. One was a trip to Nashville for pleasure; the other was a trip to Washington, D.C., for business.
When I was in Washington, in the morning before I left for home, I decided to get up pretty early to beat the traffic. But before doing so, I wanted to swing through the capital to check out a couple of my favorite spots. I hit the road at about 5:15 a.m. and got down to the Lincoln Memorial well before 6 a.m. It was a beautiful September morning, and the monument was virtually empty. The quiet of the place, the lighting, the slight warm breeze, and the feeling it created were spiritual. For a long time, I just sat on the top step of the memorial looking over at the Washington Monument as the clear sky gradually shifted from dark to morning light. It felt like I was sitting on the town’s front porch all by myself, watching those iconic landmarks wake up.
Two months earlier, my wife and I went to Nashville, where I did an interview with the general manager of the Bluebird Café for my podcast, which is now on hiatus, called Shaping Opinion. On its surface, this may not sound like the makings of an impactful trip, but it was that and then some.
What reminded me of this was something our editor Chris Queen did this week. He started a discussion thread in our virtual newsroom that was a nice break from the grind of working to keep sunlight on all of the left’s lies and deception. Most of your favorite PJ Media writers chimed in.
Chris was doing prep work for a piece he was writing on the “Mount Rushmore of Country Music” and he asked our opinions. Before this impromptu discussion, I didn’t realize how many of us were more than casual country music fans.
All of this took me back to that trip to Nashville, and while we had a full itinerary of music, relaxation, and fun, it was that trip to the Bluebird that blew me away. I like all kinds of music and have seen my share of live music in different venues. I once saw Ray Charles do a private event at the Hard Rock Cafe in Atlanta, which knocked me off my feet. Just before he made it big, I saw Kenny Chesney do a free concert in a county park close to where I lived at the time. He was late to the venue, so to make up for it, he doubled the time he spent on stage, performing late into the evening.
I thought that was my favorite live music memory of all time, but that was before I went to the Bluebird. You may have heard about The Bluebird Cafe. It’s a part of popular culture now. The TV series Nashville was centered on the Bluebird. Taylor Swift and Garth Brooks got their starts at the Bluebird. That’s why I wanted to do that interview with the GM.
Little did I know that none of this was what made that venue so special, and why seeing a show there, in the round, was far and away my most favorite live music experience of all time.
If you haven’t been there, you have no idea how small this place is. It’s a nondescript storefront in a strip mall just outside of downtown Nashville. The only hint it gives passersby of “who” it is is the humble blue awning above the front door.
One step in the front door and you’re ten feet from where the artists will be performing in the round. Only 90 can fit in the place. They sit at small tables, and in nooks and crannies surrounding up to four songwriters. They tell stories and perform their music, each using their own guitar as accompaniment.
They sit on wooden chairs, sing into Shure SM58 mics, sip on their drink of choice, and take you away for about two hours. Once you find your pre-assigned seat (reservations are a tough thing to get), it’s not long before the lights go down, and, with very little fanfare, the show starts.
I’m sorry, did I call it a show? My apologies. It’s not a show. It’s an escape, and depending on how sentimental you are, you’re probably not getting out of that place by the end of the night without first getting a little dusty.
One of the things that makes the in-the-round performance so unique is that these artists are not usually household names. Most don’t make their living as performers and don’t want to. These are the songwriters. They are the ones who’ve written the songs for the likes of George Strait, Luke Combs, Zach Bryan, and so many more. Every now and then a big name does return to his or her roots by sitting in at the Bluebird.
The routine is simple. The songwriters sit and talk to each other and the audience. There’s almost no separation between the performers and the people. Each songwriter takes a turn. First he or she tells the story behind the song they are about to sing. Sometimes they’ll trade stories with each other about the artist who made the song famous. Some very funny stories, if I recollect.
As the evening progresses, the songs set the tone, and the stories get deeper and sometimes more emotionally raw. Knowing what the songwriter was thinking about when he wrote that song only intensifies the listening experience when you watch the same songwriter sing the words he wrote. It really hits when you listen to the melody he crafted, played by him on his guitar and just his guitar. Quiet. Stillness. Just him and his song, and just you and the music. Nothing else. It’s out of this world and as real as it gets.
Even if you heard the song before, sung by a major star, there is literally nothing like hearing the same song performed by the one who experienced the story at the core of that song.
If you love music, particularly country music, it’s impossible to leave the Bluebird without it having a profound effect on you.
I thought of this when Chris prompted our little writers’ country music discussion this past week, and I realized that everything I loved about the Bluebird was the opposite of what people usually pay big money to see. No marquee names. No arena crowd. No band. No special effects. Just four songwriters, four microphones, four guitars, and 90 of their closest friends (for at least these two hours).
Up front, I mentioned that this experience left a lasting mark on my sense of patriotism and pride in this country. How?
A good country song is a celebration of America and who we are. Country music at its best honors our American culture, warts and all, but if you listen carefully to the good songs, the love remains. It comes from our country's soul. It helps us laugh at ourselves, get mad at ourselves, and, in the end, see ourselves for who we are. That night in the Bluebird, the reverence the people showed the artists, and the respect the artists and their music showed to the people of this great land, just reminded me of how lucky I am. How lucky we are to be able to live our lives, in spite of all of our ups and downs, right here in America.
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