Playlist: Penny Surfing On PCH
You might be asking yourself: what the hell is penny surfing? Well, glad you asked. Penny surfing is when you roll down a window in a car moving at a decent speed (50 mph + is recommended) down a rural or back road, and you balance a penny on your pointer finger, using the wind to hold the penny to your hand. It’s pretty fantastic.
This is a little road trip entertainment trick I learned while driving houseboats for Sonshine Ministries. It’s a vibe. Enjoy some windy, weaving-down-the-Pacific-Coast-Highway kind of tunes.
(Yes, Baba O’Riley is a reference to Joe Pera).
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Jackie Shane Pride Celebration
As a graduate student, I’ve had the chance to work with a lot of neat organizations, my favorite of which has been a partnership with Jefferson Street Sound Museum (JSSM). Lorenzo Washington, their founder, was friends with legendary Jackie Shane leading up to her passing and we wanted to collaborate to do something really fantastic for Pride to honor her life.
Another part of graduate life has been fellowships and scholarships. I was fortunate to be a Curb Public Scholar at Vanderbilt, which comes with a $2,000 budget to implement some kind of public-facing piece of scholarship. I was able to leverage this budget to equip JSSM to host the first annual Jackie Shane Pride Celebration.
This was an absolute blast to plan and host and, most importantly, could not have happened without the generosity of volunteers, friends, and our planning committee.
As I wrap up my time in academia, it is fulfilling to get to put on an event that raises awareness for such a fantastic artist (read more about Jackie Shane’s story in this post), work with an awesome local museum, and create a space for queer folks to unite and celebrate during Pride.
So I Went to A Hardcore Concert
A bit of backstory: Jackson (my husband) met his best friend Drew when they were randomly assigned as roommates freshman year at Vanderbilt in 2011. They are somehow very different and very similar at the exact same time. We’ve spent countless hours together over the years and we love Drew very much. A few years ago, Drew moved to Atlanta to work in the film industry. While there, he connected with a really rad girl named Allyson. Now they’re married! They came to town for the Coheed and Cambria concert and invited us to join them since it was Drew’s 29th birthday. They knew full well that it wasn’t our typical music, but also could count on us to be down for a new experience and to get to see a bit of their world as they’re both fans and this was their third time seeing the band live.
The show was at Municipal Auditorium, which I must say was incredibly well air conditioned for hosting over a thousand people in the dead of July heat in the South. (We usually describe outside in the summer here as feeling like being inside of a mouth. Ew. But accurate).
We snagged dinner at the new 5th and Broadway project’s Assembly Food Hall, which I can happily recommend even as a Nashvillian whose relationship status with downtown is “It’s Complicated.” We walked from there to the show and prepared our ears for blasting. Pro tip: if you forget your earplugs on the counter like I did ( * face palm *) then you can always stuff some toilet paper in your ears. It ain’t glamorous but it’ll get the job done and your cilia will thank you later.
If you’ve been to a live show with me, you might know that I tend to write during shows. Yep. I don’t know why, but the muse has inconvenient timing.
While I haven’t written any song pieces yet (which is what I usually do), I was very inspired by the experience of being out of my musical element and thinking about what it meant to listen in this arena. Here are my (hot) take aways:
This is a rock opera. Serious classical structure underlies much of hardcore and metal instrumentation. Walk the Moon is just the poppy end of this spectrum. They’re somehow vocally similar to the lead singer of Band of Horses. But also see: Phil Collins? The lead guitarist and singer has some of the most beautiful hair I’ve seen. Very fitting for his industry / genre. The audience parts sounded like me trying to hum the anthem of Game of Thrones from memory (it would be a mostly accurate struggle). We then sonically took a hard left into Beach-Boys-covered-by-Fall-Out-Boy territory. For aforementioned hair and opera reasons, I recommend Coheed and Cambria to fans of Les Mis.
The whole experience reminded me of youth group. Jackson described it as being similar to going to Catholic mass for the first time and not knowing the words to songs or what to expect from the rituals. The average person here is Drew, who I know went to youth group. There were songs that swayed in 6/8. There was more in-time clapping than the Baptist center down the street on any Sunday. Really giving mega churches’ Easter Sunday production a run for their money. The house lights were still up, the floor is linoleum, everyone here is a nerd (that’s a compliment): Like, was a school assembly in there. Again like CCM, the songs are organized around a central narrative and have unnecessary Nth repetitions of a chorus or refrain just so its followers can experience the joy of singing along.
There was an alien balloon that I have a suspicious theory about: the same company that must do most of the balloons for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade must have had a turkey body leftover whenever the production designer for Coheed and Cambria. Balloon person was like “Yeah we totally have an alien for you” and then promptly added some tentacles to the turkey body and recolored it. I mean, props. But it if you’d seen the show, you would 100% be on board with my theory. Side note: They paid a lot for CGI. But also, not enough.
This is true at all shows: There’s nothing like the face of the panicked stage hand who is running up between songs to secure a microphone stand.
We had a great time and I would definitely go back. It might not be the kind of music I listen to on a day-to-day basis, but the show was nothing short of fantastic and a true culturally immersive experience.
How have you gotten out of your musical comfort zone lately?
xo,
em
Jackie Shane: Transgender Soul Music Pioneer
Born and raised in North Nashville, Jackie was 7-years-old when she came out to her mom as transgender. As she grew up, she performed in the local clubs on Jefferson Street—Nashville’s original Music Row—wearing clothes that fit her persona: sequins, jewelry, beautiful wigs, and fantastic makeup. Being a transgender person and a Black person in the South, Jackie faced serious oppression from transphobia and the Jim Crow era.
In 1959, Shane escaped her oppression by joining a traveling circus in Ontario, Canada. Jackie later joined Frank Motley and his Motley Crew (yes, Crew not Crue) who had a regular spot at a local night club. Their fame grew and Jackie became their lead singer as they traveled the Chitlin Circuit.
In 1965, Jackie Shane performed “Walking the Dog”, a Rufus Thomas cover, on WLAC-TV’s famous show called NightTrain. She was invited to perform on the Ed Sullivan show, but since they required her to present as a man, she declined. Jackie continued to be misgendered at concerts, in reporting, and by those around her throughout her life. Despite the undoubted frustration and hurt this must have caused, Jackie turned to her music and kept up the pep.
Shane’s songs reflected her own life, with celebration not shame. She sung about living conditions in New York with “In My Tenement”, looking for love as a transgender woman with “Chickadee”, and facing her critics down in “Sticks and Stones”. Her single 1967 re-released single “Any Other Way” sounds like a modern LGBTQ anthem:
“Tell her that I am happy
Tell her that I am gay
Tell her I wouldn't have it
Any other way”
Her clever play on words still ring true.
Then, at the height of her career, Jackie Shane disappeared.
There were rumors that she’d been stabbed to death. That she’d been lost to suicide. That she’d moved back to Nashville. That she was hiding out somewhere in New York.
What was the truth?
We’ll never know the details of Jackie Shane’s life from the 1970s through the 2010s.
What is known?
In the 1990s, Jackie Shane moved to Los Angeles so she could take care of her mother who had fallen ill. She moved back to Nashville some time after her mother’s death in 1996.
There are stories of folks who got a hold of Jackie’s number in Nashville—and were promptly hung up on whenever they called. Even old bandmates seem to have lost track of her.
Here and there, Jackie would open up for a phone call or a conversation. In 2017, Jackie Shane met Lorenzo Washington and visited his museum, Jefferson Street Sound Museum, which is dedicated to the preservation of Nashville’s Black music history. Lorenzo and Jackie developed a close friendship and she trusted him to get her groceries and take her on outings. Lorenzo recalled one time they shopped until they nearly dropped at a department store and Jackie bought classic Jackie things: bold, gold jewelry, a faux fur coat, and fun shoes. It was Lorenzo who, when she didn’t pick up the phone, went to Jackie’s house to find that she had passed away in her sleep.
Before her death, Jackie’s music was rediscovered by the public and she was nominate for a Grammy in the category of Best Historic Rhythm and Blues Record. She had begun giving occasional interviews about what it was like to be trans in the South in the 50s and 60s and about her musical career. Currently, Janelle Monaé owns the rights to Jackie’s life story as a dramatic film and Netflix is collaborating with a team of Canadian documentary makers to bring Jackie’s story to a screen near you soon.
During her time, Jackie Shane was compared to Little Richard and David Bowie for her sonic innovation, clever song topics, and overall style. Now, you can hear her influence in popular music from, yes, Janelle Monaé but also Yola (compare Jackie’s “Comin’ Down” to Yola’s “Stand For Myself”) and Sam Smith (the emotional tone and melodic deliberation of “Any Other Way” feels like Smith’s “Love Me More”). Do yourself a favor and listen to some Jackie Shane, baby.
A benediction from Jackie:
“I’m going to be all Jackie. That’s all I can be,” Shane said in a 2018 interview.
May we each be all ourselves, for that’s all we can be. Amen!
How Mickey Guyton Is Changing The Country Music Industry
When you hear the phrase “country musician,” who do you envision?
Do you hear a Southern drawl? Do you see boots or a big hat? Where do you think they’re from?
Is he a burly guy with traditional values and a beer in hand? Is she a scantily clad songstress with a shiny guitar?
Perhaps most importantly, what color is their skin?
You’ll be in good company if up until that question, you’d envisioned someone white. The world of country music is one of the most historically white-washed genres, despite the consistent, undeniable contributions of Black musicians whose music can easily be called “country” but historically been described as “folk.” Let me speak some truth here: the line between these two genres is an invention of white supremacy in the United States by music industry. What started as a decision by marketers to label music by white and Black folks differently evolved to create the foundation of the exclusion of Black musicians from the country music industry. This isn’t to say that there aren’t musical differences linked to cultural differences —who can deny the rich history of spirituals and hip hop?! (I’ll save my thoughts on appreciation vs. appropriation, covers and musical influence another day. We do not have space or time for that right now). The point here is that the history of marketing, production, and distribution of music is hugely influenced by the historical (and persistent-in-present-day) racism in America. The entire Morgan Wallen horror is just one little glimpse into this.
The sonic color line, as Jennifer Lynn Stover calls it, is hearable wherever you use your ears: in code -switching, in the denigration of AAVE (which is very much a valid form of language), in radio broadcasting, in how we describe someone’s voice, volume, and diction. There have always been artists who break through the sonic color line and expose the line’s very existence to us. Artists who break the barrier today, just as in history, are subject to all kinds of heightened critique of their music as well as racialized hatred directed toward their person by listeners who believe they are an unwelcome intruder into a genre or style. The occasional Darius Ruckers and Lil Nas Xs of the country music scene serve as the exceptions that prove the rule. Now if, from an intersectional perspective, we add gender into the picture, you can start to imagine the kind of ground-breaking, sonic-color-line-crossing incredible song work that Mickey Guyton is doing.
Mickey Guyton is a heavy hitter as a writer and a singer. Her song “Black Like Me” is a much-needed anthem for the current times. While the music industry is still struggling to give parity to female musicians, Guyton is facing racism from said women-empowerers. Nevertheless, she persists.
She rises! She’s Grammy freakin’ nominated! Mickey Guyton is the first Black female solo artist to ever be nominated in a country category. And on top of that, she used her Grammy nomination as a platform to boost the visibility of other Black women in country music. I mean. C’mon. One more thing: she’s 37and kicking ass. I cannot begin to tell you how many female musicians I know who have had their dreams squashed by men (and women) who were told they were too old to make it. How can you not support her?!
I’ve found her music to be an incredible balance of production and authenticity, rawness and refinement, humor and honesty, judgment and joy. She sings stories of the hardship of being Black in a white supremecist country, trying to figure out how to raise a child (Guyton welcomed her first this year!). She sings stories about womanhood and looking for love.
Mickey continues to uplift other Black women who sing in and about the South, the good and the bad and the in-between, including dope blues queen Adia Victoria, who is our featured artist for the second installment of Song and Social Change at Vanderbilt! Take a few minutes to listen to my favorite tracks from her EP, “Black Like Me” and “Rosé.”
xo
em
Gimlets and Galentines
My sister happens to be a prolific playlist maker.
My sister happens to be a prolific playlist maker. When we were kids, it fell to me to find new artists and burn their tunes to CDs I played in our 2003 CR-V (yes, the same one I converted into a camper) on our way to school. In the last five years or so, however, Camille has lead the music discoveries between the two of us. She’s kindly shared one for the girls, gays, and theys. It’s an up-beat, eff-you, love myself kind of vibe and wow is it fun to dance to.
Check it out and let us know what you think!
xo
em
Good Songs for Strange Times
And if these aren’t strange times, I don’t know what would be.
And if these aren’t strange times, I don’t know what would be.
Here is a playlist made collaboratively by myself, Jackson (hubby), Camille (sissy), and Alec (bestie) the other evening. It’s got everything from The Polic'e’s “Don’t Stand So Close To Me” for the during-COVID phase to Maroon 5’s “Hands All Over” for a post-COVID anticipation.
Next up, instructions on how to host your own virtual dance party via video platform.
Stay safe and wash those hands, my friends!
Emma
I Saw 50 Live Shows in 2019
I started off 2019 the way I do most new years - by making a few resolutions. I trimmed my wishlist of ways to better myself down to a few key items that seemed doable, if pushing it a little. As a life-long musician, I feel most inspired and most like myself in the setting of a live performance (though not necessarily on stage). I decided to immerse myself in the muses’ light by attending 50 live performances (music, theater, comedy) in a single calendar year.
I started off 2019 the way I do most new years - by making a few resolutions. I trimmed my wishlist of ways to better myself down to a few key items that seemed doable, if pushing it a little. As a life-long musician, I feel most inspired and most like myself in the setting of a live performance (though not necessarily on stage). I decided to immerse myself in the muses’ light by attending 50 live performances (music, theater, comedy) in a single calendar year. Living in Nashville definitely made this easier - you’d be hard pressed to find a silent night in this town. Still, we were on a budget and traveling much of the year. Add in my class schedule, and I was going to have to really work to get to fifty shows. AND I DID IT. Here’s the recap:
Goodbye, wallpaper. Hello, paint!
When wallpaper is too expensive but you still want a pop of color and pattern in a space, painting is the way to go.