The Avett Brothers
“You’ve gotta be dumb to technology, and then you can stay truly Americana,” Scott Avett joked to the crowd of thousands gathered at Riverfront Park Saturday night as he tuned his banjo. The Avett Brothers’ set was the first official headlining performance in AmericanaFest’s 15-year history. He later corrected himself, saying that the true definition of “Americana” is “something that allows us to be what we need to be and what we want to be and what we are. ... Don’t be what you’re not.”
Ah, is that what Americana is, Scott? Truth be told, that definition is awfully broad and sentimental, but that’s par for the course when it comes to the Avetts — extremely earnest, extremely sentimental, a little bit broad, playing to the emotions of their devoted and steadily growing fan base. Be that as it may, the crowd ate it up voraciously, just as they did the rest of The Avett Brothers’ energetic, two-hour-plus riverfront set. And hell, even though the Avetts’ particular variety of neo-folk isn’t exactly The Spin’s go-to bag, the band still managed to crack through our exterior just a little bit with their rendition of the classic gospel song “In the Garden,” a tune The Spin remembers singing along to in the pews of our grandmother’s 50-member country church many years ago.
While The Spin has yet to see any sort of official tally, it certainly feels like this year’s Americana Music Association Festival and Conference was the most well-attended yet. By a long shot, as a matter of fact. As a kindly old man told us as we awaited the bus out of downtown at Saturday night’s end, “Things have changed in Nashville,” with folks the world over turning Music City into a travel destination like never before. Indeed, all week we heard British accents. At one point we were sandwiched in a beer line between an Atlantan and a Canadian.
Alex Chilton biographer Holly George-Warren had us from the beginning of her reading and question-and-answer session at Howlin’ Books Thursday night. “Alex Chilton was one of the godfathers of Americana,” she said, and we were given pause. Chilton, who died in 2010, never recorded in Nashville, and explored the hard-edged Memphis-to-New Orleans side of American music that Americana tends to shy away from, but he admired such Music City country-pop icons as Kitty Wells and John Buck Wilkin. Joining George-Warren to talk about her book, A Man Called Destruction, were Nashvillians Dan and Adele Tyler, who knew Alex and the Chilton family from days growing up together in Mississippi. Later on, Chilton would spend time with the Tylers in Nashville, and impart invaluable guitar and life lessons to son William Tyler. Playing guitar, William joined Nashville singer and guitarist Will Kimbrough and Big Star drummer and singer Jody Stephens in a dreamy, acoustic set of Chilton-related tunes that included Big Star bassist Andy Hummel’s “The India Song,” Jon Tiven’s “Everytime I Close My Eyes” and “Nightime,” written by Chilton himself.
That night, we found our way into an overstuffed Third Man Records as Gregory Alan Isakov and his string band rambled their way through a set of exactly the sort of mawkish folk music that, for most people, likely defines the current Americana boom. Lyrics like, “Traveling through the graveyard with a suitcase full of sparks / Honey, I’m just trying to find my way to you” were a bit much for The Spin, but it seems as though a huge portion of the crowd was there for Isakov’s set. A sizable contingent of the audience watched Isakov & Co. rapt, leaving before local songster Andrew Combs’ set. Which is a shame, because Combs is a fine songwriter, who stitches a Guy Clark-esque breed of introspective folk together with fun honky-tonk heartache tunes like “Emily.” It was a snare-tight set, and definitely a highlight.
Local Scene faves Promised Land Sound (obvious-albeit-appropriate misfits on the AmericanaFest bill) closed out Thursday night festivities in The Blue Room. Though badge-holders were waiting in one-in-one-out lines at various clubs across town, at this later hour there were only four- or five-dozen folks on hand to catch PLS. And that’s a damn shame, as — undaunted — the band busted out a set of new tunes from a forthcoming record they (following in the footsteps of obvious influences like Bob Dylan and The Band) recently cut in Upstate New York. The band — now augmented to five-piece status with the addition of keyboardist/organist Mitch Jones — looked at times intensely lost in their own worlds as they played the new songs, which, if this performance is any indication, see them further indulging the sunny-day psychedelic tendencies they’ve already been honing so well for the past couple years. More people really should have been there to see it, though the curious ones who turned out (British tourists especially) seemed impressed. We even noticed one guy filming complete songs on his iPhone. Perhaps one of those will find its way to YouTube. Fingers crossed!
We also caught Nashville music writer Barry Mazor’s interview Friday afternoon at the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum with proto-Americana guitarist, singer and all-around roots-music conceptualist Ry Cooder. In town to participate in the Americana Fest activities — he sat in with the house band at Wednesday night’s awards show — Cooder talked about working with Taj Mahal in their ’60s group, The Rising Sons, and recounted fascinating tales of producer Lee Hazlewood and singer-songwriter Randy Newman. Playing Newman a tape of Norteño accordion player Flaco Jiménez one day on an airplane, Cooder got this response from Newman: “Are you kidding? Mexicans in leisure suits? Nobody cares about that.”
Winding down on Saturday night, we relaxed during a set at 3rd & Lindsley by Nashville singer Paul Burch, who helped bring attention to the history of Nashville country in the mid-’90s, when he began playing in Lower Broadway venues. Burch sings in a warm, genial voice that somewhat belies his cheerfully low-rent subject matter and rockabilly and blues leanings. We also had a good time listening to Miss Tess and the Talkbacks, a Brooklyn quartet that features Miss Tess on vocals and rhythm guitar. With their songful, retro-rock style, they reminded The Spin of a modernized Lovin’ Spoonful — guitarist Thomas Bryan Eaton played some impressive, Zalman Yanovsky-style licks.
We arrived at Riverfront Park during the holler-and-stomp roots rock of Austin’s Shakey Graves, who for most of his set was joined by a drummer. There was a solo tune or two in there wherein Graves made use of a Frankenstein’d little percussion suitcase at his feet — there were two mallets, one for a bass-drum tone and the other for a little tambourine. Graves’ songs made use of his lithe tenor voice and skillfully fingerpicked blues-guitar lines, and while he uses a minimalist set-up, his arrangements were robust and well fleshed-out. Roots music is, by definition, derivative in construct, but Shakey is a compelling character with real talent and his own sound, and The Spin appreciated that.
Visions of Cake’s Dancin’ in the District set about a decade-and-a-half back — complete with a blazing fire at the thermal plant in the background — danced in The Spin’s head as we took stock of the night’s attendees. There were music-biz types, college kids and older fans alike. A pontoon boat with a UT-themed paint job bobbed near the riverbank, and paddle boarders floated by listlessly. The General Jackson even cruised by at one point later in the evening.
AmericanaFest founder Jed Hilly introduced The Lone Bellow, who set up in a tight cluster mid-stage. To be honest, The Spin has always been a touch wary of music that overtly reaches to pluck the heartstrings with emotionally loaded starts and stops and sentimental lyrics, like the ones in “You Don’t Love Me Like You Used To.” Such music can sometimes feel a little manipulative, and more earnest than anyone ought be. But The Lone Bellow’s songs were full of stellar four-part harmonies and strong musicianship — not to mention gospel undercurrents that we appreciated. Frontman Zach Williams tended toward hamminess here and there, lying on the stage and pounding his fist and gesturing grandly as the band dropped in and out. But it takes some work to connect with a sprawling outdoor crowd of thousands that is loaded on pizza and beer, and Williams’ & Co.’s energy was clearly appreciated by the fans awaiting The Avett Brothers down in front.
Half an hour after The Lone Bellow wrapped, the Avetts took the stage with the incremental build-up of “Satan Pulls the Strings,” a flurry of string players sawing away, with Scott Avett breaking a banjo string almost immediately. Before catching The Avett Brothers live, we never quite understood how a neo-traditional stringband could fill arenas and inspire the sort of fervor that these guys do. It came into focus on Saturday, however, as throngs of fans cheered the touchstones of modern folk: rustic and vaguely pastoral imagery, swells and bouncy rhythms, a pogoing cellist, but minus the slow sprawl of classic folk. Not to mention energy: There was an exhausting amount of stomping, clapping, hollering and sprinting all throughout the set.
With a mildly disorienting backdrop hanging onstage behind them — a colleague described it as looking like a "birdnado" — The Avett Brothers tore happily along, with Scott running around stage and clapping, Seth noodling on a stand-alone hi-hat and each member jumping along to kick-drum quarter notes. The song “Live and Die” reminded us a bit of “Rainbow Connection," not just because of its plucky banjo line, but also due to its Kermit-esque feel-goodery. The band members traded vocals on "Distraction #74" and name-dropped every neighborhood in Nashville during "Traveling Song." They mentioned that they're working on a new record, adding, "Let's hope it doesn't suck" after the news fetched some applause.
Songs like the waltzing "Head Full of Doubt" and the deep-ish cut "Salina" — both of which probably fetched among the warmest receptions of any song all set — came as the Avetts' performance sprawled past 10 p.m. Down in front of the stage, fans sang along with kids hoisted on their shoulders. Seriously, there were a lot of little-bitty kids present. There was a George Jones cover ("The Race Is On") and a Doc Watson cover ("Little Sadie") in the mix, but as the clock ticked ever closer to 11 p.m., we made our way across the street to Acme Feed and Seed, where we caught a little portion of local honky-tonk outfit Johnny Appleseed's killer and remarkably tight performance.
When it comes to performers like Johnny Appleseed and J.P. Harris — the latter of whom we saw at his "official unofficial" album release show at Fond Object the following day, where he had a couple members of Johnny Appleseed backing him — there's little question of "What genre is this, and what does it mean?" Those dudes make true-blue American country music in the classic sense of the term. As long as AmericanaFest gives talented locals like those the opportunity to showcase for a wider audience (whether officially or unofficially), we won't complain. No matter how you want to define the term "Americana."
