If a twee falls... From last week’s Belle and Sebastian/New Pornographers double bill at the Ryman, we expected three solid hours of fey, bookish popsters reeking of detachment and fabric softener. After watching both bands deservedly generate the most love we’ve seen from a Nashville crowd since The Decemberists last year, The Spin has to wonder if their reputations as erratic live acts are the work of a jealous rival. It wasn’t just the Ryman’s usual pixie dust that made the Pornographers’ brainy bubblegum nuggets translate so well to the stage. If anything, the Vancouverites had to fight to make their vocals soar above the initially muddy sound. But the crowd warmed to their wry deadpan presence, made even more reserved at first by vocalist/keyboardist Kathryn Calder’s recovery from laryngitis. In fact, the group managed to liberate a few booties from the Ryman’s hardwood pews even before the night’s first standing ovation. If the Pornographers were a pleasant surprise, Belle and Sebastian left the audience helium-headed—as much from lead singer Stuart Murdoch’s jumping-jack stage moves and crowd-courting ebullience as from the feathery gorgeousness of their songs. Plainly tickled to be playing Nashville in general and the Ryman in particular, the eight Glaswegians brought a sense of delight even to songs as mournful as the piano ballad “You Made Me Forget My Dreams.” The hands-down highlight: Murdoch dialing up a fan’s absent friend via cell phone for the shimmering disco freak-out “Your Cover’s Blown,” which let the singer show off his adorably goofy dancing and Mister Salty physique. Guitar army Considering the influence of musicians Tony Conrad, Rhys Chatham and Jonathan Kane—a line that can be drawn directly to modest little combos like The Velvet Underground and Sonic Youth—it’s amazing to consider that Ruby Green wasn’t packed on Monday night. Still, it was a decent crowd, and the mood of expectation transformed into one of exultation as the performers made their way through three monumental sets with economical changeovers in between. Conrad opened with a solo violin piece that consisted of powerful drones delivered from behind a billowing bedsheet. Powerhouse drummer Kane’s ensemble followed with four guitarists and bassist Ernie Brooks of the Modern Lovers, who together worked hypnotic transformations from simple blues riffs. The evening culminated with Chatham’s seven-guitar lineup—the entirety of Kane’s group plus several more guitarists, including Doug McCombs of Tortoise—making their way through two chiming compositions that at one point had the entire group hanging on an E chord for several minutes. It was a mighty sound that found within the simple materials of rock ’n’ roll something transcendent. Emo fill-up Sure, it was an early, all-ages show, but we figured we’d be able to get a little hair of the dog, dammit! No such luck—The End was dry as the desert on Sunday night for OC-generation indie popsters The Format. But if there was one guy who had figured out how to score with underage girls without the aid of alcohol, it was opener Rob Blackledge. The high-school ladies were lapping up his Jack Johnson-meets-Ryan Cabrera, sensitive singer-songwriter vibe, while the emo kids behind us seemed be having just as much fun cracking wise at the Belmont grad. The Format, playing the first show on their first out-of-state tour in over a year, seemed genuinely surprised at the enthusiastic response of the sing-along-happy full house. Lead singer Nate Ruess bounced around, tossed his mic from one hand to the other and generally behaved like a kid fronting a band in a high school talent show, but in the best possible way. They played witty songs with catchy hooks about heartache and hot-boxing cars, and their cover of ’70s rockers Sparks’ “This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us” was simply to die for. Digging ‘Gold’ It takes a lot more than hurricane-force winds and torrential rain to deter Nashvillians from a good schmooze, and last Thursday’s gala premiere of Neil Young: Heart of Gold at the Green Hills 16 temporarily emptied Music Row of gray-haired music weasels. But hey, The Spin gets as star-struck as anybody else when guitar legends James Burton and Steve Cropper mingle among the line at the popcorn counter, or when Willie Nelson treads the red carpet in his own customized New Balance sneakers. (We are not ashamed to say we took photos.) Afterward, a mellow Neil Young, his wife Pegi, gregarious director Jonathan Demme and several dozen guests retired to an exclusive private party at Tootsie’s. How exclusive? “I know exactly who you are,” the Sopranos-size bouncer told a CMT-jacketed ponytail who tried to glad-hand his way past the gate. “You’re not getting in.” Ditto for The Spin, who settled for almost getting flattened by Emmylou Harris’ limo. When we left, folks were still standing around waiting to see if anyone ever claimed that “Keith Urban + 1” comp. Welcome to Ray country The spirit of Ray was in the air last Saturday at the opening ceremonies for the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum’s exhibit “I Can’t Stop Loving You: Ray Charles and Country Music.” A panel discussion featured his manager of nearly a half-century, Joe Adams, and his longtime music director, Gerald Wilson, both of whom humbly testified that all they did was help Ray bring his ideas to fruition. Though a medical emergency forced Ray’s former sax player Hank Crawford to cancel a musical performance, Rahsaan Barber stepped in and, along with vocalist Paula Chavis, gave spirited renditions of the many high points of the singer’s career. Upstairs, Ray Charles’ country legacy is the centerpiece of an exhibit that tracks his career-long love for the genre and its gut-level directness. The archival photos, video clips, scores and personal items (like Ray’s custom tux) all spoke to his soulful vision of country and how it raised the musical style to new heights of popularity. Pop goes The End It’s that time of year again when, thanks to the International Pop Overthrow Festival, we realize just how many bands there are in Nashville that we’ve never heard of. The festival, which started back in 1998 in Los Angeles, overthrows not pop, but rather the notion that pop isn’t a viable commodity. Journalist and festival founder David Bash is trying to encourage fans, and the music industry at large, to check out “classic pop”—the musical descendants of bands like The Beatles, The Beach Boys and The Byrds. The shebang goes down at The End every night from March 15 through March 22: some 60 acts, half of them from Nashville, will take the stage. There are indie-pop acts like Sam Ashworth, Arkitekt and The Luxury Liners, and more rockin’ stuff like Bang Bang Bang and The Shazam. Some of the acts, like The 8th Grade, even lean a little toward pop-punk. And there are a handful of bands we think even meet Bash’s prerequisite, like Disappointed by Candy and The Lonely Hearts. Heck, maybe they all do—who doesn’t cite The Beatles as an influence these days? For the schedule, visit www.internationalpopoverthrow.com. Love that dirty water Put on your red socks, don your three-cornered hats and head to The Family Wash this Thursday, March 16, for an all-Boston-all-night affair: Beantown native and Wash co-owner Jamie Rubin’s band Circus Dog Serenade, longtime Bostonian and recent Nashville transplant Reeves Gabrels, and Boston roots-blues duo Scissormen. Circus Dog Serenade will feature songs from their debut album Seven Year Story..., due out in June on Boston’s Hi-N-Dry label. Gabrels—who spent years in David Bowie’s band and has recorded with acts as diverse as The Cure, the Stones and Public Enemy—will do some of his own material, backed by Rubin and his bandmates.