“The talent, creativity and inspiration is everywhere.”
Greg Freeman, better known as DJ and producer Quiet Entertainer, is on the phone, giving me a rundown of the state of Nashville music from his point of view. And that’s a valuable perspective. For more than a decade, he’s been on the fringes between Music City’s hip-hop, electronic and indie-pop scenes, watching them grow and change from his vantage point behind the turntables (and synthesizers, and sequencers) that he uses to make his thoughtful ambient electronic music, sometimes augmented by his live band. He’s had a unique view of the evolution of Music City’s future-music. It has also set the stage for his annual multi-genre mélange of a birthday party, Quiet Entertainer Fest. On Saturday evening, he’s bringing 10 acts — including soul aces Alanna Royale, rapper Lord Goldie and theatrical rockers Fable Cry — to Mercy Lounge and The High Watt.
“Even with everybody moving here every day, it’s still like there’s almost too many places to play,” Freeman says with a laugh. “I feel like the more people move here, the more opportunities we’ll have to play, there will be more shows to book. … I don’t think we’re running out. I may sound bitter and jaded, but I’m not — everybody can still eat here in Nashville.”
This runs counter to the “Sorry, we’re full” ethos running rampant through the old-school Nashville set and the crankier corners of the underground as the city struggles to handle unprecedented growth. Freeman has a positivity that is tempered by reality, not destroyed by it — an attitude reinforced as he sees new micro-generations of local musicians wash up on the shores of the Cumberland, often to wash back out just as quickly. Since his first Springwater gig way back in the day, Freeman has seen tastes change from bloghaus to EDM to indie pop and back again. He’s seen crowds boom and bust for an array of different kinds of music. But he’s always created his own sound, regardless of the prevailing trend of the moment.
“This city brings out the creativity,” Freeman continues. “If you have some idea that you want to do something, Nashville will just squeeze that out of you. It’s the best and worst thing about Nashville: You get a chance to try things out. … If you’ve got a painting, you can get in an art show. If you’re a stand-up comedian that wants to try things out, there’s places that you can play. You can get your beats played in front of MCs almost immediately. There’s oppor-tunities.”
Talking to Freeman is a great reminder of just how special it is to live in a place with so many creative people. Especially when commercial success seems unattainable, being surrounded by people who keep on pushing themselves and their art is an incredible gift. From his early days as the Tangerine Dream-loving beat maestro in the back room at Cafe Coco to his recent appearances at booty-poppin’ dance night Freak Me, Freeman has surrounded himself with some of the city’s most eccentric and endearing characters. They are artfully reflected in — and often incorporated into — Freeman’s genre-hopping sounds, clearly providing fuel for a creative fire that won’t be dim-inished.
Just for a bit of perspective: Since Freeman’s first appearance in the Scene on Jan. 8, 2009, the paper has been under three different owners, had four different editors-in-chief and switched content management systems enough times that you need a Ph.D. in archaeology to find the original article. (Save your shit, kids, ’cuz the internet definitely forgets — however, you can find the 2009 piece under the subheadline “A diverse group of performers is fueling a vibrant, counterintuitive hip-hop subculture at Cafe Coco.”) In that time, a lot has changed about Nashville, but Freeman doesn’t see that as a drawback. And while he didn’t get swept up in the rising tide of attention from the outside world that washed over the city circa 2013, and he hasn’t been showered in filthy tourist lucre, he doesn’t hold a grudge or see it as an impediment to making his art.
“My ethos has always been: ‘I just have to throw my own thing,’ ” Freeman explains. “That’s how this all started. I wasn’t getting on the festivals or shows I wanted. That’s how [longtime Cafe Coco residency] Blogworthy started. That’s how QE Fest started. I wasn’t getting shows, so I just had to make them happen.”
Freeman’s do-it-yourself attitude harkens back to Nashville in the Aughts — a time when it seemed you had a rhinestone’s chance in hell of getting recognized or rewarded for making music outside of the country mainstream. It was a good attitude at the time, and it may be an even better attitude in an era when commercial success is too frequently confused with artistic success. In a city where the struggle between art and capital has been, and continues to be, one of its defining features, the stridently independent should always be welcome. And as long as that’s true, you’ll find Quiet Entertainer doing what he does best: making music and throwing shows.
