Music
Collective Souls Movement Nashville’s AutoVaughn
A couple weeks ago at the Exit/In during Fashion Rocks, an event celebrating Smack clothing store’s 10-year anniversary, the models seemed to enjoy using Darren Potuck of AutoVaughn as a human stripper pole on their way down the catwalk. He didn’t seem too upset about it either—well, maybe a touch uncomfortable—as he powered through the last song of their set. When the models, sporting their best faux-rock attitudes, had taken their last pass, Potuck and guitarist Stephen Wilson took to the runway, strutting and wailing on their guitars. It was so not indie rock.
In some ways, neither is Movement Nashville, the local music collective of which AutoVaughn are a founding member. Now composed of eight acts ranging from singer-songwriters (including Leigh Nash, formerly of Six Pence None the Richer) to Southern rock to AutoVaughn’s synthy’80s-inspired stylings, the group has drawn big crowds—and cultivated some naysayers—in the six months since its inception. The strength of reactions to Movement Nashville, whether it’s excitement, skepticism, apathy or derision, has surprised the members of this almost-accidental conglomerate.
The story of Movement Nashville is a classic tale—sort of a band meet-cute. Sitting around the table, AutoVaughn, Bang Bang Bang and Jeremy Lister emphasize just how much they like each other, and how organic this whole experiment was. Almost every story about the group’s genesis begins with, “We were hanging out drinking, and…” or “We were really stoned, so....” They reminisce and razz each other: Potuck said of the group’s eclectic makeup: “We’re so different as artists. We’ve got Jeremy doing his singer-songwriter thing, which I’m not really into it but...Bang Bang Bang doing their Southern rock. And we’re just, you know, Eurotrash.”
They say the goal is to build a community—a word that came up again and again—where they can share fans, utilize each other’s booking contacts and promote each other. But, plenty of other local bands drink together, play shows together, support each other and yet, have decided against branding themselves. Members of Nashville’s local rock scene usually operate more like high school cliques than middle school ones (no official name, no secret ballot voting on new members). Detractors of the group’s efforts may ask, why bother? Movement Nashville’s answer seems to be, why not?
Following some hazy, post-show brainstorms, setting Movement Nashville in motion was as easy as one, two, click. Its growth is yet another indicator that MySpace is taking over the universe. “MySpace has really enabled this venture—and made it worthwhile,” said Potuck. The communal page ( www.myspace.com/movementnashville ) brings as many as 100 extra hits to their individual pages every day.
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So who would wanna hate? Apparently plenty of people—just ask Movement Belle Meade (www.myspace.com/movementbellemeade). The MySpace parody boasts scores of local bands as members. It even hosts Movement Nashville in its top eight friends, and jokes on its profile: “We like squash and slavery, but are not classists or racists. We are realists. We play shows together and drink together at bars, more importantly we breed the children of hate and disobedience together.”
Bang Bang Bang
In underground rock, there’s an inherent revulsion toward anything that feels vaguely prepackaged or affected—especially in a city like Nashville where nonchalance and cynicism thrive in opposition to the glitz of Music Row. Yet, the members of Movement Nashville seem strangely unconcerned with their indie cred, which is kind of refreshing. Their reaction to their MySpace doppelganger? They seem surprised that anyone would even care about what they’re doing, and find Movement Belle Meade “pretty fucking hilarious.” Ben Brown of Bang Bang Bang said he took the parody as a compliment; “I was surprised they even knew who we were.”
Movement Nashville is also looking beyond the traditional local scene for fans. They aren’t too cool for any gig—they love to play events, teaming up with production companies and P.R. firms for occasions like Fashion Rocks or ’80s night at 12th & Porter, trying purposefully to draw people who normally wouldn’t go see live music. Bang Bang Bang even attract a ton of Vandy kids, who are usually loathe to support local rock, and often book shows around the school’s schedule. (A recent early-’90s theme night was postponed until the fall.)
Indie rock ethos be damned: for them, it all comes back to bringing in bodies. “I don’t want to go to a club when there’s 20 people there,” argued Neil Mason of Bang Bang Bang. A couple of weeks ago, when Movement Nashville hosted Mercy Lounge’s 8 off 8th Writers Night, the place was bursting at the seams—as a wise man once said, “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”