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Shortly after posting the last entry we headed off down to Broadway for some more honky tonk and long necks. Having enjoyed the bands in two different bars we decided upon The Hard Rock for dinner. Conversion in a smallish venue with live music can be a challenge and even after over two weeks in each other's company we still seem to have plenty to talk about so a dining option with a quieter ambience seemed like a plan.
The Hard Rock on a Sunday night was a very quiet affair. Our server, Braz, looked like an extra in Wayne's World and sported a fantastic beard of considerable length and depth. He was very friendly and attentive. When confirming we were from the UK he expressed amazement telling us he'd already served parties from England, Scotland, Northern Ireland, Denmark and Australia. He hadn't realised that there were so many Europeans in town. Not that bright then. I decided not to correct him....
As I said, the restaurant really was very quiet. To the extent that, as we sat drinking the last of our wine, Braz pulled up a chair and sat down to chat. Evidently he had an interest in the social differences between our nations. I now feel the need to issue a parental advisory notice. Dad - you may want to sensor this for Mum. I'm no angel, and I must admit to emitting the odd expletive, especially when either angry or frustrated, but in general I try to keep use of bad language to a minimum, I even prefer stand up comedians who don't substitute punctuation for swearing, and those are few and far between.... Anyway, in order to give an accurate account of our conversation with Braz I need to stray from the straight and narrow, strictly in the interests of authenticity. It all started when Bill referred to cigarettes as fags. There then followed the obligatory conversation about linguistic differences, chips and fries, sidewalks and pants etc. We even talked about grits, with which most Americans seem obsessed. I had to smile when Braz looked shocked that the only time we'd tried the aforementioned delicacy was in Florida. Why did we try them there??? We should have gone to South Carolina, they're much better there apparently. The logistical equivalent of trying foie gras in Scotland and being told you should pop down to the South of France instead. Anyway, all very innocuous until Braz suddenly piped up with ( language alert!!!) " hey! Why do you guys get so upset about the word wanker?"
Whilst I sprayed the table with what was quite a nice Californian merlot (even himself approved of that one), Bill attempted to explain to Braz how careful he ought to be about using that word in polite British company. I think he got the message across....
There are two things in life important to Bill for which I do not share the same enthusiasm. Cricket and breakfast. The former bores me to tears, the latter often makes me feel nauseous, actually, thinking about it, cricket can also have that effect on a bad day. Anyway, America is big on breakfast and, apart from the soggy biscuits back on the Outers, I felt that we had failed to tick the breakfast box so far this trip. With that in mind we headed back to Pucket's Grocery, famous for its breakfasts and outside of which I had seen queues of people waiting their turn back on Saturday morning. Whilst I enjoyed a suitably small and delicious bowl of fresh fruit with a constantly refilled bucket of coffee Bill enjoyed a proper American breakfast of ham and eggs. The biscuit this time was not soggy but still a little surplus to requirements. At the top of the menu was the house special French toast - a banana and peanut butter white bread sandwich dipped in egg and deep fried. I like to think that no other words are necessary right now....
As planned we spent the rest of our day in the Country Music Museum and Hall of Fame taking in a tour of RCA studio B along the way. This is the studio where Elvis recorded the majority of his hits. We got to sit in the studio itself where the King sang the tunes we all grew up with. The tour itself was not remarkable, an experience not enhanced by the fact that our guide was from Minnesota. She was friendly and willing enough but anyone who has seen Fargo will understand how annoying that accent can be after a while. That aside there was no escaping that feeling of treading in the footsteps of real music legend. I'm not a huge Elvis fan per se -we thought about going to Graceland but decided against the 7 hour round trip from here for that reason- but I find it impossible not to acknowledge the legacy he left behind.
Throughout this trip we have invariably received two responses when answering the question as to where we are from - either an "ok" or, more often, "I know someone who lives near London". Twice in Nashville we have been asked to describe where we live and what makes it special. I've lost count of the number of times people here have also responded with a welcome and actually thanked us for coming so far! There's no doubt about it, this really is a very welcoming place to visit..
And now for the finale of our Nashville experience. A 10 minute walk only to The Bridgestone Arena for a night of rock, and possibly roll as well......
As we arrived we joined hoards of 50 and 60-somethings, many of whom were already wearing band t shirts. Outside the arena a woman stood on a packing case advising us that we should turn away from sin. Had she seen Rog and Pete lately?? I was confident that if nothing else I would end the night with my morals intact... Nashville is very much in the Bible Belt but has much more relaxed views on alcohol than our earlier Tennessee experience. I should imagine that causes a lot of discomfort for many nearby residents.
Anyway, once inside we walked past legions of people selling cold beers and fast foods. Throughout the whole night there were guys walking up and down between the seats selling their cold cans of beer it was how I imagine it is like being at a ball game.
As you know, The Who were being supported by Joan Jett and The Blackhearts. When I was a teenager Joan Jett was alongside Debbie Harry and Pat Benatar in being the first female singers who rocked out rather than sticking to ballads. Without a word of a lie at one stage I wanted to be a rock chick like Joan or play the guitar like Pete Townsend, windmill arm the lot! Life can disappoint its true - I've never learnt to play the guitar and I ain't much of a singer - but the concert did not disappoint in any way at all. Joan kicked off with a 40 minute set of pure energy and I can now honestly say that I really do love rock'n' roll right now. It was a great performance which left me wanting to source a greatest hits CD as soon as I get home..
Roger and Pete are both 70. We figured a 90 minute set at best. 2 hours later they were still belting out a superlative Won't Get Fooled Again ( my own personal top track). True Roger was struggling vocally on occasions but the rest of the band stepped in at those times, and mostly he was good. Pete Townsend was stronger vocally than either of us had expected. It was an electrifying set with constant tributes to the late Keith Moon and John Entwhistle. They played all of their hits, and the ensemble of tracks from Tommy was nothing short of breathtakingly. I had been excited about the prospect of this concert but it exceeded my expectations by far. At the end of the day I've just seen The Who. Live. In Nashville. In my book it doesn't get much cooler than that!!
And so we left Nashville and headed north and east for a functional overnight stop on our way to our final destination at Gettysburg. Overhead a gantry told us "Buckle up y'all it's the law" - our last taste of the south. A roadside hoarding some miles further on advertised "The Love Shack - Adult Supermarket". I'm assuming we have now officially left the Bible Belt.....
As is customary, or sponsor will now add a few thoughts...
I can only echo all the above about The Who. Stunning!
Joan Jett was also excellent and still looking good- one for the boys!
BUT, there was a large American gentleman two rows behind us who insisted on whopping non-stop at an an annoying high volume. If you thought the pa system would overwhelm all utterances,think again. Our friend sounding more like a deranged owl continued to assert that he was The Who's number one fan.
I could sense that those around us shared our feelings, so you can imagine our joy when the Owl finally showed his in-depth knowledge of The Who's catalogue.
Baba Riley is a classic song and was performed brilliantly. One song later as Pete Townsend was talking the Owl yelled out "let's have Baba Riley!"
What joy!
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Andrew Smith
non-member comment
The Who.
Wow! What an experience. I saw them at Hanley Gaumont (Stoke on Trent) on 15th September 1966. Your blog makes them sound just as good 49 years later. I always listen to the lyric of “My Generation” with a sense of irony... Nice comments about the language and the food. Keep on enjoying the tour. As we say here - Ongi ibili (go well)