As my fortieth birthday recently approached, and much faster than I would have liked I might add (as all of these milestone birthdays increasingly do), my husband had made the suggestion that I choose a place on my travel bucket list to visit and celebrate. Well, it should come as little surprise to anyone that knows me that my destination of choice was not some where like Honolulu or San Francisco, Las Vegas or New Orleans, or anywhere else far more exotic. Rather, my choice was very quickly Music City, USA: Nashville, Tennessee. Perhaps what’s more surprising to those in my inner-circle, is that this would be my first-ever trip to the home of country music. After all, I’ve been an avid music lover all my life, with a heavy emphasis on country and roots music. A large majority of my free time as an adult has been spent collecting records, and devouring the annals of American popular music in general. When you don’t find me writing about music, there’s a very good chance that I’m listening to it in some shape, form, or fashion. To say it’s one of the true passions of my life would be an understatement. So, how in the hell did it take me forty years to make it to Nashville?! I honestly don’t have a good answer for that. But October 25, 2024, the wait was finally over. (The timing also aligned thanks to the fact that my cousin is currently living in Nashville for her medical residency; a big shout out to Alex and her husband, Brian for hosting us, and being excellent tour-guides. It was fun to see how much they have made of their time in Music City, soaking in all of the experiences it has to offer).
Once we landed in Nashville, the question as to where we should begin our Music City adventure seemed rather obvious, and undeniably cliched. We headed straight for Broadway. Now to be clear, this was the late-afternoon Broadway experience we were indulging in, which was precisely by design. I’ve read plenty of online press bemoaning the corporate commercialism and bachelorette party invasions that have overtaken downtown Nashville, particularly in the wake of the 2012-2018 hit television drama, Nashville, which yes, I just so happened to stereo-typically binge-watch in preparation of our trip. And while I would have most certainly been partaking in this party-scene had this been my twentieth or thirtieth birthday year, the endless assault of bars branded with the names of current country hitmakers was not what drew me to the Music City epicenter. There would be no white-girl-wasted line-dancing for me at Luke Bryan’s bro-country establishment. No smoke breaks outside Kid Rock’s redneck rave palace. No photo-opps on the roof of Chief’s where Morgan Wallen launched that infamous chair. I was on Broadway to experience the vintage, gritty, rich history of it all. I sipped a beer at Nudie’s Honky Tonk. I ate a moon pie at Robert’s Western World (shout to to B45-49!) while listening to a no-frills country band twang through classics from the likes of Conway Twitty, George Strait, Tanya Tucker, and Ricky Van Shelton. I walked through the mythical alley between the Ryman Auditorium and Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge, envisioning vintage Grand Ole Opry staples like Roy Acuff, Minnie Pearl, and Patsy Cline doing the same decades ago, and then gloriously navigated the Lounge’s four stories worth of country music memorabilia and endless live music. I was most certainly like a kid in a candy store, and admittedly resembled my own laughable version of a tourist, forcing my husband to photograph me in front of any sign, mural or Little Jimmy Dickens statue I spotted. But hey, at least I stayed off all of the bachelorette party buses, right?
All of this exploration up and down Broadway was merely the appetizer for what I viewed as the hat-trick of headliners that I knew would be essential to my first trip to Nashville: visiting the Ryman Auditorium, the Grand Ole Opry, and the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. I am not too proud to admit that these were emotional experiences for me. These were history-making, larger-than-life places that I’d read about and seen on television for decades. My passion as a sheer music fan, and my reverence for these magical places overwhelmed me at times with intense emotions of joy, pride, and wonder. For a life-long lover of music, it’s a powerful thing to walk through the halls of the Ryman, to stand in the dressing rooms or the hallowed circle of the Opry, to navigate the induction rotunda at the Hall, or to sit in the same RCA Studios where greats like Elvis Presley, Dolly Parton, Waylon Jennings, the Everly Brothers and countless others cut some of their greatest recordings (side-note: the add-on tour of RCA Studio B is a must for your Hall of Fame tour package).
Speaking of the Hall of Fame, this was undoubtedly the crown jewel of our trip. I’m not nearly well-traveled enough to make a definitive comment on the matter, but I would venture to guess that the Country Music Hall of Fame is as exquisitely and thoroughly curated of a museum as any other in the world. I knew there would be a bounty of riches to behold at the Hall, but was nevertheless unprepared for the level of exhibits to explore, not just on inducted artists themselves, but on key figures through each and every era of the format’s history. If you consider yourself anywhere near a music fanatic or connoisseur, especially of the country variety, give yourself the gift of time at the Museum. We ended up coming back for a second trip the next day because the two hours I allotted prior to our RCA tour was only enough to cover the first floor and a portion of the second. The treasure trove of artifacts is truly endless, from Elvis and Webb Pierce’s notorious vehicles, to the instrumental collections of giants like Chet Atkins, from Porter’s Nudie suits, Loretta’s sequins and Shania’s pink cowgirl suit to John Prine’s jukebox and Trisha Yearwood’s original job application as a museum tour guide (complete with interview notes and initial job schedule!). The entire place is a sea of country lore.
There are also some truly excellent rotating exhibits currently that will appeal to a wide array of tastes, including one featuring Luke Combs as well as the American Currents series that highlights everything from a replica of Taylor Swift’s Eras tour bus to Lucinda Williams’ latest career triumphs. My personal favorites however were undoubtedly the artist spotlight on recent inductee, Patty Loveless, an exploration of Nashville’s underrated rhythm & blues roots, and a thrilling trip through the story of Los Angeles’ country roots and the country-rock movement that helped define the lates 60s and entire 1970s, and as the exhibit name implies, still reverberates today. The former exhibition truly serves as its own mini-museum and its accompanying book is a must-have souvenir, while the latter on Loveless is one to try and seek out before it ends in the next several months (thought it is then replaced by an equally enticing exhibit on Rosanne Cash, which is hopefully a precursor to her own, well-deserved induction into the Hall).
It’s also important to remember that there’s plenty to experience in Nashville beyond the scope of country music. Being a truly unmitigated musician’s town, there are scenes tied to various other genres of music to be found throughout the city. One of our understated highlights was a delightful evening at Rudy’s Jazz Room, where we enjoyed excellent food and superb jazz performances from the club’s resident Sunday night entertainment led by musician, Jimmy Sullivan. This unassuming venue with all of its charms and musical and dining excellence is just one example of the hidden gems lurking throughout Nashville. If you’re lucky enough to be with someone who lives or knows the city well like we did, you’ll benefit from this leg-up in finding moments and places like this. However, don’t be afraid to explore on your own. You likely won’t have to wander very far to find something you love. Don’t allow Nashville’s humble trappings or its expanding commercial tourism of the last dozen years cause you to underestimate the cuisine, recreation, culture, and authenticity that it can also offer.
Of course, with our trip only spanning a long weekend, there were plenty of other experiences that we weren’t able to fit in. These items however will form our itinerary for next time. Like so many before us, we failed to obtain tickets for a show at the Bluebird Cafe (seriously- who do you need to be related to in order to get in there?!). I’m looking forward to eventually checking out a Sunday night picking circle at the Station Inn. There are other well-regarded museums to visit throughout the city, including the one off Broadway dedicated to Johnny Cash, as well as the National Museum of African American Music. By the time we return, I do hope that someone has resurrected the currently shuttered Ernest Tubb’s Record Shop to its former glory, though I did carve out time to do some joyous record digging through the bountiful stock at Grimey’s in East Nashville. I also hope our next visit will include an actual show at the Ryman, though we did of course take in a joyous Saturday evening at the Opry, of which the bill included one of my bucket-list performers, Vince Gill, as well as the legendary Connie Smith, Mandy Barnett, and some great, new discoveries in scrappy singer-songwriter, Evan Honer and bluegrass duo, Darin & Brooke Aldridge (oh, and don’t forget the Opry Square Dancers, of course!)
Needless to say, I can finally, officially confirm Nashville as a highly recommended experience for music lovers of all varieties. My overdue opportunity to take in this special city has further enriched and informed my love and knowledge for music in new and exciting ways. It has me eager to venture to other musical destinations like Memphis or Austin, not to mention look ahead to my return visit to Nashville itself, which you can damn sure bet will not take another forty years!
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