Best of Nashville
BEST PLACE TO SPOT THAT DUDE WHO PLAYED ON THAT RECORD: FAMILY WASH
They’re Nashville’s unsung heroes—the folks you’ve heard or seen play a bazillion times, yet you don’t know their names. And on any given night, it’s not uncommon to find five or six of them sitting at the bar at the Family Wash. That guy at the end? Pete Finney, pedal steel player for everyone from Patty Loveless and Allison Moorer to The Clientele. Who’s the mop-topped dude Pete’s talking to? Oh, that’s former Black Crowe Audley Freed, who’s also played with the Dixie Chicks and Gov’t Mule…sitting next to his wife (and former Jayhawks keyboardist) Jen Gunderman. And if it isn’t those darn Pisapia boys: Joe (Guster guitarist) and Marc (Josh Rouse’s drummer)…along with honorary Pisapia brother Hags Haggerty, who you may have seen playing bass with Rouse or Wilco side project Autumn Defense. Hey, Stu Kimball! You were awesome with Dylan last week! I guess Patty Griffin’s off the road, ’cause there’s her bass player, Frank Swart, talking to longtime David Bowie guitarist Reeves Gabrels and Warren Pash, who wrote Hall & Oates’ “Private Eyes.” Geez, I must sound like a jerk. After all, Neil Young told me never to namedrop. But it’s hard in this place. Now where’s my shepherd’s pie, dammit?! —JACK SILVERMAN
BEST CONDUCTOR TO TURN CLASSICAL MUSIC ON ITS HEAD: PAUL GAMBILL
Who says you have to perform Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony exactly the way it’s written? Who says classical music can’t rock, fox trot or tango? Certainly not Paul Gambill, the adventurous music director of the Nashville Chamber Orchestra. Gambill has devoted his music career to reinventing classical music from the ground up. His concerts may intersperse spiky contemporary pieces between the movements of a Beethoven symphony, or they may mix music with a multimedia slideshow. But what they never do is pander. Gambill is a serious artist who understands that true success comes from being good and original. So don’t expect gimmicks at his concerts—just ear-bending, life-affirming music. —JOHN PITCHER
BEST COMPOSER TO TURN CLASSICAL MUSIC ON ITS HEAD: MICHAEL ROSE
If you think classical music is stuffy, boring and predictable, then you’re clearly not listening to the music of Michael Rose. A composition professor at the Blair School of Music, Rose writes works that willfully defy convention. His Concerto for Klezmer Band and Orchestra, which received its world premiere last March courtesy of the Nashville Chamber Orchestra, freely mixes world music with classical techniques. It also mixes improvisation with a composed score, making it almost more like a big-band piece than a classical work. Still, the best thing about his music is its sheer lyrical beauty—Rose is a self-described “slut for melody.” If only the rest of the musical establishment could be so profligate. —JOHN PITCHER
BEST SHOWS WE CAN’T TELL YOU ABOUT: HOUSE SHOWS
In our efforts to publish comprehensive music listings each week, the Scene encounters a fair bit of gray area. Take the burgeoning house show market—there aren’t exactly official addresses and contact numbers for the basements, living rooms, bedrooms, kitchens and the occasional apartment that have all played host to a wealth of local and touring artists—mostly those whose appeal is, let’s say, less than universal. Most venues won’t cater to the city’s festering noise and experimental music scene, so, much like malignant tumors, those artists find more vulnerable cells to invade. Ark, Brown Swarm, Science, Necking and Meemaw aren’t often mentioned in this paper, but their names are familiar to those who frequent the BYOB portion of the scene. Still, the harsher sounds of Nashville aren’t the only ones heard at these shows—How I Became the Bomb played a basement house show this past year. Lucky for Nashville, the number of houses hosting music has steadily increased. But hearing about the shows is still a little like getting tipped off to a speakeasy—just hope you’ll be in the right place at the right time to overhear someone mention a kick-ass show on Porter Road. Just sayin’. —MATT SULLIVAN
BEST LOCAL ROCK BAND WHO’D BE AT HOME ON THE GRAND OLE OPRY: THOSE DARLINS
If history has taught us anything, it’s that punk rock and old-time country music have more in common than anyone would have ever suspected. The Murfreesboro, Tenn., trio known as Those Darlins illustrate this truism. Jessi Wariner, Kelley Anderson and Nikki Kvarnes banded together over their love of The Carter Family’s deadpan, crazed music and bring an energy to live performance that recalls the antics of punk heroes such as The Cramps. They’re all under 25, yet display a precocious wisdom, as their cover of A.P. Carter’s “Little Darling Pal of Mine” demonstrates. If the folks who ran the Grand Ole Opry had any sense, Those Darlins would be hawking Goo Goo Clusters and stirring up audiences with originals such as “The Whole Damn Thing,” a tale of unrepentant chicken-eating. Most of the time they don’t even use a drummer, which makes them more traditionalist than the Opry is these days. —EDD HURT
BEST LOCAL ROCK DEBUT: EUREKA GOLD
This year’s stellar local debut wasn’t released on any of our burgeoning local rock labels. Instead, it was done the way all the cool kids are doing it these days—by themselves. Eureka Gold’s self-titled debut is filled with sprightly, quirky, ’60s-influenced pop. From the opening acoustic jaunt of “Belly Full of Wine,” it’s clear that this quartet have a refined sense of identity well beyond their limited catalog. Pretty, catchy and idiosyncratic, songs such as the head-nodding “Peter Oh” shimmer with pop gloss. Well-executed vocal harmonies, such as the doo-wop influenced background cooing of “Come Back,” add another layer of richness to their already-plush palette. Some songs also feature a nice little vintage rock shimmy, picking up the pace and showcasing these newcomers’ promising range. —LEE STABERT
BEST LOCAL ROCK CHEERLEADER: JANET TIMMONS
Every local rock scene needs a diehard, and Janet Timmons certainly fits the description, though she’s as much an enabler as a cheerleader. Saying she supports local music is like saying the Pope wears a pointy hat, only Timmons actually wears two—one as a DJ on WRVU, and one as a blogger. On air, she’s often calculating how much of an opening band’s set she’ll be able to catch if she races to the club immediately after her show, Out the Other, goes off-air. Online, she has a penchant for Herculean feats: her exhaustive coverage of the Austin City Limits music festival earned her well-deserved recognition and a spot on the evening news in Austin. And during this year’s Next Big Nashville festival, I found myself referring people to her blog (also named Out the Other) rather than the official festival site for MP3 samples. —STEVE HARUCH
BEST RECOVERY FROM A CLASSICAL MUSIC TRAIN WRECK: KLAUSPETER SEIBEL WITH THE NSO
It’s every orchestra’s worst nightmare. Last spring, Klauspeter Seibel was conducting the Nashville Symphony Orchestra in a challenging piece of contemporary music when a percussionist missed his cue. Suddenly, the orchestra came to a screeching halt, and Seibel had to scramble to get his players back on track. Fortunately, the conductor kept his cool. He quickly found a new place to start and cued the orchestra. Within seconds, the Schermerhorn Symphony Center was filled with the kaleidoscopic sounds of Stephen Dankner’s The World of Yesterday (evenings with my grandfathers). It was a deft save that made us all but forget the derailment. —JOHN PITCHER
BEST LOCAL ROCK BAND WHORE: RYAN NORRIS
There are many, many musicians in Nashville who juggle gigs and sessions the way Frenchmen juggle mistresses, but a lot of them get paid handsomely for their work, so they’re disqualified. And normally this distinction would go to Keith Lowen, but this year he fronted his own namesake ensemble of fellow band whores, so he’s out—because you can’t be a pimp and a prostitute, too. So this year’s honor goes to Ryan Norris, who gives of his musical abilities in Lambchop, Hands off Cuba, The Privates, Lone Official and Cortney Tidwell’s band. His crowning achievement in ’07: when the Next Big Nashville festival took our city by storm recently, organizers had to schedule nightly lineups around the fact that, talented though he may be, Norris can’t be in two places at once. Talk about having the world revolve around you. —STEVE HARUCH
BEST LOCAL BAND PHOTOGRAPHER: JONATHON KINGSBURY
As if the world needs more band promo shots where would-be rock stars can be seen holding up a brick wall, douching around or just loitering by some train tracks looking gritty and authentic. Everybody knows only assholes do that (exception made for The Ramones), and if you don’t believe us, check out the hilarious blog Rock and Roll Confidential (rockandrollconfidential.com/hall) for their Hall of Douchebags, an archive of terribly shot band promo photos. So thank the sweet sweet Lord for local photographer Jonathon Kingsbury, a 22-year-old filmmaker and photographer who manages to breathe a little whimsy into the often-uninspired tradition of shameless self-promotion. Kingsbury has snapped De Novo Dahl, Glossary, The Privates, The Comfies and tons more, preferring to work with locals willing “to risk their image on something really creative.” His slick, super-saturated photos are stunningly altered to look almost like oil paintings, and his whimsical approach, creative lighting techniques and ability to get bands to loosen up and have a little fun pay off. See his playful shots at kingsburyfilm.com. —TRACY MOORE
BEST JOHNNY CASH TRIBUTE: DALE WATSON’S FROM THE CRADLE TO THE GRAVE
Dale Watson’s latest was recorded in a Hendersonville, Tenn., cabin once owned by Johnny Cash. And while Watson, or indeed any modern country singer, will never be as badass as Cash, the record manages to channel the spirit of The Man in Black as effectively as any in recent memory. What makes Cradle so thrilling is the way Watson pays tribute to the musical energy behind classic Cash hits such as “Folsom Prison Blues” without descending into pastiche. “You Always Get What You Always Got” and “Yellow Mama” are two of the year’s finest country songs, while “Hollywood Hillbilly” takes a humorous look at the kind of success Cash seemed to take in stride. Sure, “Runaway Train” employs the “chicka-boom” Johnny Cash rhythm in overt fashion, but Watson makes Cash’s formidable legacy seem like part of country’s collective unconscious—a not inconsiderable achievement. —EDD HURT
BEST IMAGINARY FEUD: AMERICAN BANG VS. FALLS CITY ANGELS
We like dick-swinging as much as the next alt-weekly, but we like it better when the prick-waving actually comes to blows. No such luck when barroom brawlers Falls City Angels suggested a throw-down with Southern rock hustlers Bang Bang Bang—who’ve recently changed their name to the more efficient American Bang—back in February. It started with a simple black-and-white flier: Falls City Angels, Bang Bang Bang: any time, any place motherfuckers. Yes, brevity is the soul of wit, but somebody’s mouth was writing checks their ass couldn’t cash. We have no idea what started the fictional feud, and damn if we didn’t wanna see that shit come to fisticuffs, or possibly even a bass-off. But now that the Internet is the new schoolyard, the trash-talking hilarity instead played out (rather pathetically, we might add) on MySpace and our blog, Nashville Cream, where most folks figured the whole thing was just a poorly attempted publicity stunt. (Incidentally, that same blog entry produced a lot of great taint jokes.) Hey, there’s always next year, guys—don’t let the dream die. —TRACY MOORE
BEST CLASSICAL MUSIC MARATHON MAN: CRAIG NIES
When we say this longtime Blair School of Music professor is a pianist of remarkable stature, we’re not just talking about his height. (He stands 6-foot-5 in slouch.) Nies is one of those rare pianists who evidently can (and does) play it all. He’s already performed the complete piano sonatas of Mozart and Schubert in a series of piano recitals. This season, he’s continuing an even more ambitious project, performing Johann Sebastian Bach’s complete Well-Tempered Clavier (48 preludes and fugues in all) in a marathon series of eight recitals. He played the first installment of the series last winter, mixing Bach with a heroic rendition of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Sonata No. 1. For his next recital (scheduled for 8 p.m. this Saturday at Blair’s Ingram Hall), he’ll mix Bach with Chopin. Prepare to be mesmerized. —JOHN PITCHER
BEST NEW ROCK HUSTLERS: AMERICAN BANG
Sometimes it’s all about the art, and sometimes it’s all about not having to work at Smoothie King anymore. It has been quite the year for local boys American Bang (formerly Bang Bang Bang). The Nashville quartet signed with Warner Bros., played Bonnaroo and Lollapalooza, released an EP, had a song in a Verizon Wireless commercial, toured with the Donnas, ZZ Top and Lynyrd Skynyrd and spent a couple months in L.A. recording their major-label debut. Some bands are plucked from obscurity by a fortuitous performance in front of just the right person. The Bang boys made it all about the hustle—they pressed the flesh, stapled fliers, piled in the van and generally made nice all over this town, and towns far and wide. It remains to be seen whether they can translate these isolated bangs into a big, national break, but, like other undersized white boys before them, they’ll keep hustlin’. —LEE STABERT
BEST VENUE MAKEOVER: THE 5 SPOT
As a short-term East Nashvillian, I’ve always bemoaned the fact that we didn’t have a real rock club. We have the bands, we have the ambition, we have the desire to stay local and get real drunk. But what we don’t have is the place to do it. The 5 Spot always seemed like a potential candidate—great location, good size—but it was shackled by shortcomings: an underwhelming sound system, no liquor license and a no smoking rule that forced much of the crowd into exile out front in between, and sometimes during, sets. But with new ownership, things are looking up for East Side music fans. Todd Sherwood and Travis Collinsworth bought the place this past summer and immediately began remedying the club’s woes. They’ve focused heavily on booking local acts, making an effort to not just be part of the scene but nurture it as well. —LEE STABERT
BEST SONG: “NICE DAY,” TOMMY WOMACK
The first time I heard this, off Womack’s ravaging (and often very funny) album There, I Said It!, I damn near drove off the road. Dad takes his wife and son swimming at a friend’s house; you lean forward when he adds, “We can’t afford a swimming pool ourselves”—a confession of abject but honest helplessness. From there, it’s a nice day because Daddy manages to hold it together a few minutes without bursting into uncontrollable sobbing or panic at barely providing for his family. I can’t recall another song that voices this taboo male fear so nakedly. By the time his kid looks up from the pool he can’t afford and says “I love you, Daddy”—“He said it twice,” Womack adds, and that “twice” is staggering in its simultaneous matter-of-factness, inadequacy and wonder—I’m crying even if he isn’t. If Brad Paisley recorded this, he’d have wage-slave dads in pickups all across America staring at their radios in silent amazement. Maybe I just want to hear someone say, “I’ve got a shaky sense of self-esteem” on country radio. —JIM RIDLEY
BEST COUNTRY ALBUM: 5TH GEAR, BRAD PAISLEY
Maybe it’s because Brad Paisley is so clean-cut, polite and innately likeable that he gets away with bending formulas and breaking new ground, yet remains a country radio linchpin. Despite the chances he takes musically and lyrically, he remains a favorite of older country music stars, finicky traditionalists and new-country devotees alike. He’s a personable singer who crams more hot licks and inventive musical twists into one song than other country stars do across an album, but it’s his clever wit and songwriting risks that lift him above his peers. Who else would release a single about computer geeks creating fake online personas and get overheated about having three-way…chats? Like George Strait or Alan Jackson before him, he lets his integrity and consistency speak volumes, and it’s what separates him from fellow artists who work harder at marketing than at music making. —MICHAEL MCCALL
BEST NEW HOPE FOR LOCAL JAZZ: TYSON ROGERS
Good God, can this guy play! Over the past decade, pianist Rogers has secured a stellar rep with the trio The Blueprint Project as a player, composer and improvisatory collaborator—the kind of cat who can hang with heavy company as he guides a song from sinuous near-samba to blitzkrieg bop. The group has received raves not only from the Village Voice but from jazz mag Downbeat, which awarded the group a four-star rating (their second) for their immensely enjoyable new CD People I Like. Recorded with renowned Dutch drummer Han Bennink, a human octopus whose spirit of play makes even the most mathematically intricate beats accessible, the album never swings harder than on Rogers’ compositions—especially “Ruby, I Think You’re My Third Favorite,” where he shifts from mellifluous runs to percussive sneak attacks with dazzling ease. It’s music exciting and unpretentious enough to rekindle love of the form—and now that the lanky, self-effacing Rogers lives in Nashville, you can see him sitting in with anyone from Greg Bryant to the Jack Silverman Ordeal, often at the 12 South Taproom or Family Wash. Use whatever you can—money, flowers, a cement mixer full of daiquiris—to convince him to stay, and to get The Blueprint Project with Bennink to visit. —JIM RIDLEY
BEST BAND OUTSOURCING: GHOSTFINGER
Ghostfinger may as well be India. Members of the local quartet outsourced the shit out of themselves this year, playing with Living Things, Bobby Bare Jr., David Vandervelde, Black Diamond Heavies, Glossary, The Mattoid and Halliburton—though they just answered phones for radically reduced wages for the latter. Frontman Richie Kirkpatrick and keyboardist Matt Rowland have been the most shameless in the self-pimpage, earning a living off various side gigs in between Ghostfinger responsibilities. This year will see the release of the band’s sophomore album, which might help reel them in a bit, but until the ’Finger becomes a full-time gig, you can count on the continuing dissemination of the Ghostfinger seed. —LEE STABERT
BEST MAINSTREAM COUNTRY ALBUM ROCK FANS SHOULDN’T BE AFRAID TO LOVE: MIRANDA LAMBERT’S CRAZY EX-GIRLFRIEND
Back in the day, my college roommate and I had a fleeting obsession with Nashville Star. It was a time in my life when the Old 97’s first record was the closest I came to the twangy stuff, but nonetheless we tuned in most Saturday nights, drank beer and took a peek into this whole country music thing. A young, blond singer-songwriter named Miranda Lambert was one of the standouts—I never could have imagined that she would release one of my favorite non-rock records of 2007. But calling Crazy Ex-Girlfriend a non-rock record might be something of a misnomer—Lambert’s sophomore effort is filled with swampy sass and meaty guitar hooks. The plucky singer co-penned at least eight of the tracks and imbues each song with backwoods feminism—like taking a rifle to an abusive lover. Its seductive breed of bitchiness is easy to empathize with—who hasn’t played the crazy ex at some point in their life?—and its deceptive wit is, at times, heartbreaking. —LEE STABERT
BEST MAJOR LABEL COUNTRY SINGER WHOSE ALBUMS KEEP GETTING SHELVED: ASHLEY MONROE
For at least three years now, Monroe has been recording an endless series of soulful, tradition-steeped country songs that legions of inside-the-industry enthusiasts eagerly copy and pass around. But because radio keeps rejecting her songs, she can’t seem to get a record out. She’s been nominated for an ACM award for a duet with Ronnie Dunn, she’s had a hit video on CMT, and she’s probably the most listened to country singer on MySpace yet to have a song available for purchase. By now, she should stand alongside Miranda Lambert, Taylor Swift and Sarah Johns as the new brigade of country singer-songwriters refashioning what female country singers express in modern times. But for now, all anyone can do is keep waiting and hoping. —MICHAEL MCCALL
BEST WAY TO IMPROVE ON AN ALREADY GOOD CLASSICAL MUSIC IDEA: ALIAS’ “DOUBLE TAKE” SERIES
You may not be able to reinvent the wheel, but Alias, Nashville’s forward-looking chamber ensemble, has found an ingenious way to reinvent Aaron Copland. And Michael Torke. And any number of other great American composers. In essence, Alias expands on the Nashville Symphony Orchestra’s American Encores series. The NSO series features a recent (or unjustly neglected) American work on each classical subscription program. Alias’ series is called “Double Take” and showcases chamber music from the same composers. For instance, Alias’ performance of Michael Torke’s Telephone Book for clarinet, flute, violin, cello and piano in February will complement the NSO’s rendition of the composer’s Jasper for orchestra in March. Alias’ first concert of the season takes place Oct. 4 and will feature both a Double Take on composer Roy Harris and the world premiere of Larry Lapin’s Rhythm Changes Everything. It shouldn’t be missed. —JOHN PITCHER
BEST COMEBACK BY A COUNTRY SINGER: JOHN ANDERSON’S EASY MONEY
Anderson is that rare ’80s country artist whose music hasn’t dated, and this year’s Easy Money is a return to form that never seems retro. Produced by John Rich and with many songs written by various MusikMafia denizens, it features Anderson’s baritone in a variety of settings. “Bonnie Blue” might be one of the few times a country singer has devised a song that sounds as melancholy and heartfelt as The Band’s best work. “Yeah, they showed you wrong from right / Bonnie Blue, I’m so sorry that I’m crying / But there’s not a lot of difference / Between black and white,” Anderson sings. He could be talking about post-Katrina New Orleans or the Civil War. The alcoholic stutter that powers “Brown Liquor” proves Anderson has a sense of humor to match his feel for history. He’s a subtle, deep singer who sounds as sensible about booze and marriage as he does about Southern pride. —EDD HURT
BEST OPERA TO GET EXCITED ABOUT DURING THE 2007-08 SEASON: ELMER GANTRY
Opera may well be the most hidebound art form in America. Typical opera companies tend to fill their seasons with endless Butterflies and Toscas. When it comes to new opera, they seem to care nothing at all. Fortunately that’s not the case with Nashville Opera, which will stage the world premiere of composer Robert Aldridge and librettist Herschel Garfein’s Elmer Gantry. Based on Sinclair Lewis’ 1927 novel, Gantry tells the story of an evangelical preacher who profits from the fears and superstitions found in early 20th century rural America. Nashville Opera artistic director John Hoomes will stage the action, and William Boggs will conduct the Nashville Opera Orchestra. So proselytize your friends and buy some tickets. —JOHN PITCHER
BEST PLACE TO HEAR (AND PLAY) JAZZ: NASHVILLE JAZZ WORKSHOP
Thanks to this terrific organization, jazz has found a secure niche in Nashville. Founded in 1998, the Germantown-based workshop presents concerts every month in its Jazz Cave—unquestionably the most intimate jazz performance space in the city. The reception area, with its maple walls and galvanized steel trim, serves as an appealing art gallery. And the workshop’s directors, Lori Mechem and Roger Spencer, oversee a top-flight jazz school. NJW is grooming the next generation of jazz lovers. Jazz needs nothing more. —JOHN PITCHER
BEST NEW CLASSICAL MUSICIAN: GIANCARLO GUERRERO
The recent appointment of this Costa Rican-born conductor as the Nashville Symphony Orchestra’s next music director seemed almost providential. Guerrero was the first guest conductor to lead the NSO following the death of its late and now legendary music director Kenneth Schermerhorn in 2005. Guerrero formed an immediate emotional bond with the players—NSO president Alan Valentine described him as the right conductor at exactly the right time and place. And over the course of several more guest visits, he established an important musical relationship as well. Simply put, NSO musicians positively adore this 38-year-old maestro, so they give him their all. Guerrero, for his part, takes all of their positive emotional energy and transforms it into sparkling performances. Expect his performance of the Verdi Requiem with the NSO next May to be one of the highlights of the season. —JOHN PITCHER
BEST NEW RADIO SHOW: THE BEST OF BREAD, WRVU-91.1 FM
Finally, there’s a man with the balls to stand up and say what the rest of us are thinking: “I love John Denver.” And not in some ironic, so-unhip-it’s-hip way, as if it were audio Pabst Blue Ribbon: Chris Crofton genuinely loves John Denver—and Billy Joel, and America, and the ‘70s wimp-rock balladeers whose greatest-hits comp gives his show its name, if not always its playlist. (OK, it’s been on 91 Rock’s schedule for at least a year—but considering the way it gets shuffled around, it might as well be dewy fresh.) But music isn’t what makes this show hilarious, essential listening. No, it’s Crofton, the city’s best stand-up comic and garage-punk frontman, whose muttered asides, full-tilt rants, bantering with his brother Greg and uncertain grasp of broadcast engineering (every show sounds like it’s hosted by someone cleaning out a garage on-air) produce a radio program that’s as predictably unstable as nitro in a paint-can shaker. My favorite moment of recent weeks: Crofton miscuing up an America album cut, then snatching it off the air 30 seconds later with no other explanation than, “That’s horrible.” The spirit of Dewey Phillips lives. Tune in 9 to 11 a.m. Wednesdays. —JIM RIDLEY
MOST ENTERTAINING SOUND GUY: BRAD AT THE END
We’re really not sure whether he actually wrote the Guns N’ Roses song “Night Train.” Or whether he really once devoured three whole racks of ribs en route to The End with a member of one of the bands playing that night in tow. Or whether he really found Ted Nugent to be a tough act to follow. What we do know is that Brad makes playing The End—or at least sound-checking there—a hell of a good time. Sure, there’s a layer of sarcasm thicker than the grime on the “wall of fame,” but if he chides you for not quite being U2 yet, or for wearing your stylistic influences on your sleeve, it’s all in good fun. And if he likes your band you might get a wild light show, free of charge. —STEVE HARUCH
BEST COUNTRY DEBUT: SARAH JOHNS’ BIG LOVE IN A SMALL TOWN
On her debut, Johns gives the finger to a no-good husband, longs for a life that combines daycare and a day job with something more glamorous and refers to herself in the liner notes as “a new chick singer and all.” She also co-wrote every song. The Pollard, Ky., native presents a complex persona: feisty, vulnerable and, in the end, nobody’s fool. Joe Scaife’s production combines hints of Southern rock along with more traditionalist elements. “The One in the Middle” finds Johns singing, “I would’ve given you the finger on my left hand / The one that you use for a wedding band.” It’s an admirable sentiment. Imagine Marc Bolan ripping off Eddie Cochran licks on Music Row, and then add an irresistible “Ba dah da dow, dah-ow, dah ow-ow” chorus. It’s as glam as country music gets, and the high point of a terrific record. —EDD HURT
BEST PLACE TO SPOT THE NEXT BIG THING: 8 OFF 8TH AT MERCY LOUNGE
The Mercy Lounge has owned Monday nights for the past year with this free event that features eight bands playing three songs apiece and largely sharing equipment in order to move the sets along more smoothly. With 8 off 8th’s revolving group of curators, each week showcases a drastically different group of local talent, and a drastically different crowd follows. It serves as the perfect backdrop to sample new bands or hear trusty favorites test new material. This year, Cage the Elephant used the event to stir substantial buzz, Richie Kirkpatrick gave Ghostfinger the Tom Jones karaoke treatment, Cantasy Famp broke a bass and a plethora of singer-songwriters worked their stuff. For up-and-coming bands, 8 off 8th is a testing ground with a (mostly) captive audience, a place to drop the goods in front of a slew of people who might not otherwise give you a second thought. For listeners, the night is risk-free: if something sounds like crap, no worries—the band only has a couple songs left. —MATT SULLIVAN
BEST BIGGEST LOCAL BAND YOU DON’T KNOW ABOUT: PARAMORE
There’s a Nashville curse, right? Rock bands from Nashville are plagued by the Music City stigma and can’t break through to the upper echelon of national acts. The Features couldn’t do it, and neither could The Pink Spiders, even with Rick Ocasek and a $500,000 video. It’s a convenient myth. Too bad that a certain Franklin band you may have never heard of—if you’re over 20—just wrapped up a headlining spot on the Warped Tour, have a video in heavy rotation on Fuse, have almost half a million MySpace friends, are currently on a world tour that will take them to Japan and Australia and were recently featured in a ubiquitous series of MTV promo spots. Paramore, and their diminutive teen frontwoman Hayley Williams, are well on their way to being bona fide superstars in the emo/pop punk universe—too bad no one here is paying much attention. —LEE STABERT
BEST LOCAL ROCK ALBUM COUNTRY FANS SHOULDN’T BE AFRAID TO LOVE: GLOSSARY’S FOR WHAT I DON’T BECOME
Though this record came out a little over a year ago, it remains a sterling example of what all that country music in the water can do to a great rock ’n’ roll band. Murfreesboro stalwarts Glossary’s fourth full-length is filled with just enough pedal steel and wistfulness to satisfy even the most mournful country fan. Frontman Joey Kneiser’s refreshingly unironic take on the heartbreaking stasis he’s experienced while trying to make it in a band for over 10 years (“years scrape at your skin”) is easily applicable to anyone who feels trapped between failure, fatigue and an elusive dream that you’re not even sure you can define anymore. But all that ennui remains buried beneath the band’s signature lush, rambunctious rock—a perfect analogy for the kind of misdirection we all do in order to keep on truckin’. —LEE STABERT
BEST LOCAL ROCK VETERANS: THE CARTER ADMINISTRATION
Approaching their 10th year, The Carter Administration show no signs of waning. The band’s two full-lengths, eight EPs, and one single stand as one of the strongest catalogs in the local rock scene, and this year’s Here Comes the Copout solidifies their reputation as the city’s longest serving great band. Not only are the Carters prolific, but they possess a seemingly endless supply of pop hooks and wit—the two principles upon which this Administration was founded. On Copout, the sheen is a little brighter, but the formula is largely the same as it has been for nearly a decade. Still, the Carters have managed to mine an infinite number of solutions to that formula, avoiding the trappings of repetition and writing more songs than we’d care to count. —MATT SULLIVAN
BEST LOCAL RELEASE: DON’T LET STARS KEEP US TANGLED UP BY CORTNEY TIDWELL
More so than any other record in recent memory, Cortney Tidwell’s Don’t Let Stars Keep Us Tangled Up juxtaposes elements of both old and new Nashville. Steeped heavily in the singer-songwriter tradition, Tidwell makes use of the city’s long-standing heritage and introduces it to experimental flourishes. Slide guitars float on top of patches of white noise with Tidwell’s ethereal voice filling the gaps in between, resulting in a gorgeously textured album. Picking out the influences on Stars isn’t hard, but the sound in which they culminate is unto its own. In a lot of ways it’s a country record, but the ambiance surrounding it certainly isn’t Southern. —MATT SULLIVAN
BEST SUMMER FLING: JEFF
We were sorry to see Jake and Jamin Orrall leave for Chicago last January, but this summer, it was as if they’d never left. The brothers, otherwise known as JEFF, cropped up everywhere—they played houses, backyards and delivered a standout performance during Next Big Nashville. They released a cassette entitled The Boys R Back in Town that reminded us why we liked them so much in the first place. Opener “Ghostride Th’Whip to Berlin” is a 15-minute exercise in trance-y psychedelia and riffage. The tape is quirky and irreverent but, simply put, it rocks. Then there are those JEFF eyes. My God, those eyes—you just get lost in them for hours. They’re like tranquil oceans of calm. We don’t blame JEFF for leaving us again. We saw it coming—Jamin is back in Chicago for school while Jake is in New Zealand. Maybe next summer? Call us, JEFF—just call us. We miss you already. —MATT SULLIVAN
BEST LOCAL LABEL: GRAND PALACE RECORDS
After the fire marshal showed up to put a stop to a recent New Year’s party, the venue faction of the all-in-one Murfreesboro musical hub known as Grand Palace closed for business. But the shop up above the downtown square hasn’t been resting on its laurels—six releases bearing the tiny label’s imprint surfaced this year (seven if you count their newly established distribution service). But the label’s activity alone isn’t the subject of our praise—their roster is now rivaled only by that of Infinity Cat’s. Turncoats, Velcro Stars, SJ and the Props, The Mattoid, Ghostfinger and North Carolina’s Dr. Powerful all delivered solid records that run the gamut from math rock to smooth jams to a song called “The Cocksuckers.” And next year promises to be even better, with releases from Those Darlins and the Kindergarten Circus slated in the upcoming months. —MATT SULLIVAN
MOST UNLIKELY LABELMATES: DE NOVO DAHL & NICKELBACK
Any label that boasts artists with names such as Hatebreed, Killswitch Engage and 3 Inches of Blood seems an unlikely candidate to court the likes of our own local art-pop collective De Novo Dahl—they once released a double album called Cats & Kittens, for cripes’ sake. But that’s precisely what Roadrunner Records did this year when it stepped outside of the bedrooms of pimply-faced adolescent boys and into college dorm rooms, adding the glee-happy troupe to their roster alongside the cabaret-pop of Dresden Dolls and the sloppy rock of New York Dolls. But it can’t all be genre-bendingly happy epistrophes—what left most of us scratching our heads was the realization that the Dahl now share residence with that dreaded arrgh-rock abomination, Nickelback. That’s right, we’re now two degrees away from the tepid, every-song-sounds-the-same horror of MOR corporate-rock. I guess you can’t win ’em all, but all we’re asking is: please, don’t co-write. —TRACY MOORE
BEST CLASSICAL MUSIC PINCH HITTER: LEONARD SLATKIN
Conductor Leonard Slatkin may well be the busiest man in classical music. He’s music director of the National Symphony Orchestra in Washington, D.C., and music adviser here in Nashville. But he’s also a busy guest conductor and has even earned the nickname “Last Minute Lenny” because of his apparent willingness to fly anywhere on the planet on short notice to conduct a concert. Slatkin has been important to the Nashville Symphony Orchestra for three reasons. As a world-class technician, Slatkin has greatly improved the quality of the NSO’s playing. His fame has raised its profile. And his appointment gave the orchestra the extra time it needed to find a new music director. We can only hope this great musician will remain a close friend of our orchestra. —JOHN PITCHER
BEST GOTTA-BE-THERE SHOW NEW NASHVILLE: THE WHITE STRIPES, CANNERY
Some shows are all about the buzz, some are all about the craft. This surprise White Stripes show at the Cannery in May was such a wad-shooting mix of the two that all the energy and excitement was basically like snorting a Red Bull. If you didn’t score tickets in the under three minutes it took them to sell out, you may as well have choked yourself on your earbuds. The Stripes were not only gracious enough to host an intimate gig for 700 ticket buyers and 300 hangers-on before they headed off on a continental tour, but Jack White also chose his hometown to debut a blistering set of new material from Icky Thump before anyone else had heard it in the live setting, and enough old crowd-pleasers for all the requisite sing-alongs. Of course, if you were there, you don’t need be told that. But if you weren’t? Sorry, suckas. —TRACY MOORE
BEST GOTTA-BE-THERE SHOW OLD NASHVILLE: JASON & THE SCORCHERS, EXIT/IN
I missed James Brown at the Apollo, I missed Springsteen at The Bottom Line, I missed Dylan gone electric at the Newport Folk Festival—but by God, I saw this. Emotions were even higher than expected at this benefit for Perry Baggs, as the yeoman drummer’s energy quickly flagged from the tag-teaming of diabetes and dialysis. (Fenner Castner stepped in, discreetly and ably, but Baggs’ frustration was acute.) And the first set was exciting but just a little off, as if the group were having a hard time finding their rhythm. Then the band came back, brought out late-’80s ringers Andy York and Ken Fox and dusted off songs from the much-maligned Thunder and Fire LP—and from that point on it was as if someone had put a torch to a federal arsenal’s worth of gunpowder. Suddenly 25 years fell away and Jason Ringenberg was bobbing and weaving once again like a fighter with full glove immunity; Baggs raised his fists in wet-eyed defiance, while Warner Hodges’ megaton guitar-slinging made your average metal god look like a ukelele-strumming simp. I walked out thinking rock ’n’ roll could cure cancer. Here’s hoping tapes of the show emerge someday in legitimate release, preserving what may be Nashville’s live act of the past century unbowed, unvanquished. —JIM RIDLEY
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