Banchory Headbangers: Southern Sojourn

It had always been my wish to do a bit of a musical tour of USA - principally the southern states, where the blues and eventually rock 'n' roll emanated from. I've travelled extensively to the States these past couple of decades - I'd been to Chicago before - and New Orleans, and even Memphis very briefly, but I had to get the logistics and timings right - and make it a proper holiday for Jo and I - so I focused on the south eastern corner.

We flew in to Atlanta, Georgia to start our road trip there. Just round the corner from our hotel in Atlanta was a place called the Juke Joint - sounded promising, so in we went. It's a busy place - especially on Saturday night - and soon we realised we were just about the only white people in there. The locals were all out in their gladrags, parading their stuff - it was like a fashion parade. Musically, it was slightly disappointing however - mostly modern R 'n' B or some older classics, but all done very professionally.

Atlanta is very proud of the fact that it was birthplace of, and is the headquarters of, the Coca-Cola organisation. We went on a tour there, which was much more fun than it sounds, and we came across this poster:

Everyone remembers Warhol's Campbell Soups art, but did you recall him doing Coke as well?

Musically, we didn't have much time for anything other than a quick lunch in the Hard Rock Cafe, where there was a display of some Southern Rock favourites of the Headbangers:

From Atlanta we drove east to beautiful Savannah for a few nights, including the Independence Day celebrations. A few bands playing but nothing significant musically - just like our next stop, which was in nearby Hilton Head Island, South Carolina.

The next leg of our journey took us through North Carolina and back west in to Tennessee and, would you believe it, Dollywood! It's located in the Smoky Mountains in a place called Pigeon Forge, just 10 miles north of Gatlinburg. It was mid July and you could almost hear Johnny Cash calling. (If you don't get that musical reference, Google it!)

Dollywood is a theme park, but we - well Jo really - don't do park rides any more. No matter, Dollywood is as much about music as it is roller coasters etc. We saw a (white) gospel group, some bluegrass, country, 50's acapella and, of course, lots of Dolly, including one show featuring her brother and other members of her family. Here I am outside the resort hotel:

Notably, hardly a black face to be seen - almost the complete opposite of Atlanta.

Now we were headed for one of my main objectives - Nashville - Music City. The main action is on Broadway, where virtually every bar has a band playing - most of them pretty loud and raucous as well! By sheer coincidence, there was a gig on at their main concert venue that night - James Taylor and Bonnie Raitt - and we managed to get a couple of tickets:

Acoustically, the hall wasn't great - Bonnie Raitt got a bit lost in it - but James Taylor and his all-star band put on a great show, including some clever visual backdrops.

Lots of bars are owned by/named after famous country stars like George Jones - and Alan (It's 5 o'clock Somewhere) Jackson, where we sat for a while listening to a local band:

There were two Nashville institutions we had to visit. First was the Grand Ole Opry at its "new" home (where it's been for more than 40 years now):

We did the backstage tour and got our photo taken on the "sacred" spot, which is a small, circular wooden plinth taken from the Ryman Auditorium, the former home of the Opry:

Right then, we were looking out at the impressive auditorium:

Next stop had to be the "Mother Church" itself:

That's me and a lifesize statue of Little Jimmy Dickens (May the Bird of Paradise Fly up your Nose) - all 4'11" of him

This did really feel like a revered place - one that is still much sought after by today's stars, who love its sonic warmth:

Nashville seemed primarily to be a "white" town - although not as overtly so as Dollywood. On our next stop, we moved back in to what used to be primarily a "black" area, but, in the early 1950's a certain Sam Phillips discovered what was really crossover music - and Rock 'n' Roll was born.

Memphis, of course, is the place, with Beale St at the heart of it. Our hotel was virtually on the riverside so we walked along there, coming across a strolling jazz band playing:

Walking up Beale St from the Mississippi River, the first statue you see is the King:

Then, right outside his store, neatly chained off, is BB King's bench:

Then WC Handy, the "Father of the Blues":

A couple of blocks of Beale St are sealed off from traffic and that's where all the action is. Like Nashville, music roars from every bar - Blues, R 'n' B, Rock 'n' Roll, even a bit of Country. We enjoyed Blind Mississippi Morris, who we saw at a couple of venues.

If, like me, you've ever read any stories about the birth of rock and roll, you will probably recall the names of two very famous stores - Lansky's, who styled and dressed Elvis, and Schwab's, a store that doesn't seem to have changed in the last almost 100 years. The latter one is a real treasure trove - they even had a "hoodoo" (voodoo) section where, for the first time I actually saw for sale some Mojo Hands, as mythologised in so many blues songs, notably Hoochie Coochie Man:

There were even Davy Crockett hats for sale:

I instantly thought of Jack Bruce and that favourite Cream video of ours.

Of course, the main attraction is the place where rock and roll began - Sun Studios. I thought it was truly magical/mystical. I know Malcolm's been there before - wonder if he shares my feelings?

The tour round Sun takes you in to the studio where Elvis first cut Arthur "Big Boy" Crudup's That's Alright Mama - and they even have the original microphone that Elvis used that day:

Don't think I've nailed the Elvis shape yet?

OK - let's try Jerry Lee Lewis' piano then:

Now time for the outside photo:

Next stop was Stax Studios - a label I always loved, especially in their halcyon days in the mid '60's when Otis Redding, Sam and Dave, Booker T & the MG's and all the rest ruled the roost. It's a massive display but it seemed to lack the magic of Sun. I'm glad we went, although ever so slightly disappointed:

After Memphis, the last place on my musical bucket list was Clarksdale. It was a Sunday morning when we drove down Highway 61 to see the infamous Crossroads with Highway 49, where Robert Johnson mythically sold his soul to the Devil. It's a small town and it looked to be very deprived - nothing was happening. A few of the local worthies are trying to keep the blues flag flying but it seems they are fighting a losing battle. Nonetheless, the obligatory photo had to be taken:

We drove north again back to Memphis, feeling quite sad about the state of Clarksdale, the birthplace of so many great blues artistes. We spotted a roadside cemetery, so we popped in to have a look at some of the graves and we came across this one, featured in our Obituary section a few years ago: