Tag: Bluebird Café

Frankie Staton on the Impact and Successes of the Black Opry

Posted on by Justin Hiltner

(Editor’s Note: To kick off our Artist of the Month coverage for June, we asked legendary musician, songwriter, and co-founder of the Black Country Music Association, Frankie Staton, to discuss and explore the vital work of the Black Opry.

Scroll to find our Essential Black Opry Playlist below.)

Holly G wanted a safe place to not only go and hear ethnic country singers, but safe places for them to sing. 

I first met Holly G at the premiere of the CMT Giants: Charley Pride program. Shocked that I was invited to anything in Nashville, I was pleasantly surprised to see several people of color there. It was a great tribute to the life of one of country music’s finest voices. I was there with my two friends, country singers Valierie Ellis [Hawkins] and Joe West. When it was over, we were all introducing ourselves to each other. When I said, “my name is Frankie Staton,” people were saying how happy they were to meet me, and for a moment, I couldn’t understand why. If there was anyone that felt like a failure to acquire results in Nashville, it was me.

When I co-founded the Black Country Music Association in the mid-’90s I couldn’t get anyone signed. Not to a publishing contract or a developmental deal. There were a couple artists that generated some interest, but it just all fizzled out. I am proud of the effort we put in, but wish I could’ve done more. We weren’t able to get anyone on the Grand Ole Opry. Our successes were limited to performances on BCMA showcases, or if we were hired for an event. When you have a gigantic vision, and don’t have the results to match, it can be frustrating. It is wonderful to know, even in hindsight, we made some sort of impact.

I first met the collective Holly G founded, Black Opry, at the Outlaw House during AmericanaFest in 2021. It was so awesome, so therapeutic, so cool, so now. Finally! They are true songwriters, true singers and musicians with an undeniable love for what they do and a grand respect for each other. It is as if they understand that they were built for this moment.

I had a flashback to years ago when I wanted to go to Alabama’s June Jam in Fort Payne, AL. Alabama was a band that I could listen to all day. I loved their harmonies and was just nuts over the group. It would’ve probably been alright if I attended, but I didn’t ever go. Years later, I went to an Outlaw Concert at Bridgestone Arena here in downtown Nashville. The people around me thought I was nuts to want to go see Gretchen Wilson, Montgomery Gentry, Tanya Tucker, Big & Rich, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Shooter Jennings, Jesse Colter, and on and on and on.

My friends couldn’t relate to my love for these artists, despite all of the ways each of them inspired me. Gretchen Wilson, I knew her story! Besides being very talented, and a brilliant singer, I had read about her never having lived in a house without wheels. I always thought that one of the most talented and underrated women in country music was Tanya. I once saw her at Billy Bob’s in Fort Worth, and she literally tore the place apart. What an entertainer! I have respect for her journey. I had never heard anything like Montgomery Gentry, and I loved their outlaw image. I had a tremendous respect for Jessi Colter, a real trooper, with so much experience under her belt.

Although I am African American, I was deeply influenced by country and bluegrass music. Early on it was Patsy Cline, Loretta Lynn, Dolly Parton, Tammy Wynette, and Brenda Lee, along with George Jones, Merle Haggard, Don Williams, Glen Campbell, and Willie Nelson who inspired me. I made the move to Nashville in 1981. To say I was “different” is an understatement. Nevertheless, I loved the music, wrote it, and performed all over town.

I learned, however, that there were boundaries on what I could and couldn’t do. For a long time, I wondered why this was considered “American music” when so many Americans could not sing it.

Finally, in 1997, I challenged a story that was in the New York Times about the dearth of diversity in country music. The things that the label heads said in the piece about my race made my blood boil. They said we couldn’t sing country music, that they couldn’t find credible Black country singers – while they told Black artists that they “didn’t know” what to do with them. People on Music Row would tell us to “go find Charley Pride.” 

So I challenged the story. I thought, “You finally have it in print, so why not challenge the story?” I wasn’t sure how to go about it, at that point I had nothing. No Black Country Music Association. No company to promote. No foot in the door. I did it literally with just a telephone. I went to the people that I played for and asked them to sponsor musicians. I went to Jack Daniels and asked them to back me, hired studio musicians to play a show, wrote out the charts, and went to Music Row and asked the publishing houses for songs when I heard voices that were “similar” to current country stars. 

I even tried to get songs that were on hold, for seemingly 20 artists, and brought them back to Black artists to sing. It was important that we had great singers, great musicians, and great songs. I worked the press, TV, radio, print media, and just pushed and pushed. We rehearsed at the Woodshed in East Nashville. We did media classes at my house. We practiced walking on stage, holding a mic, having confidence, talking to the press, and being positive. We put together an entire showcase, to be held at an iconic Nashville venue. 

There we were, raising our voices for something we truly believed in at the Bluebird Café. No one was signed. There were a couple artists that had had development deals – but that was it. I was a single mom raising a son and a daughter, and for the space in my life, they had to be priority. 

The Black Opry was born out of a conversation Holly started online among passionate country music fans. Holly wanted people of diverse ethnicities to be able to expound on their feelings about performing country, bluegrass, folk, and all the other idioms that we were shut out of due to race.

Black Opry entertainers are confident, but humble; moving up in this world, but still grateful. And, they complement each other beautifully. Each artist waits patiently to perform their material and receives applause with such graciousness. They are kind and supportive of each other. I have been moved by the music of Jett Holden, Joy Clark, Tyler Bryant, Nikki Morgan, Aaron Vance, Julie Williams, Roberta Lea, Kam Franklin, Leon Timbro, The Kentucky Gentlemen, Samantha Rise, Danielle Johnson, Grace Givertz and so many others. 

Without a doubt, I have witnessed Black artists on the precipice of a new sunrise created by us, for us, and welcoming to all. Holly has reached out to me on several occasions to perform with Black Opry, and I have extended the invite to Valierie Ellis and Joe West, a couple of country artists of color who were here before this new exciting community of singers came along. With over 200 acts, The Black Opry has proved that we are, were, and will always be here. Now the world can see for themselves these truly gifted artists. At the first anniversary of the Black Opry in 2022, I was just stunned by the beauty of seeing them all together, excited to perform to a completely packed house at Nashville’s City Winery. 

I noticed the women performing effortlessly for a huge crowd. Being that we weren’t even considered a part of this genre, this was a surreal moment for me. The memory of Linda Martell, who charted in the Top 25 on the Billboard charts, who had all the goods, the looks, the sound, and the desire to do it, and who still did not have a real career in country music, says it all. For Ruby Falls to perform at the New Faces show for the Country Radio Seminar, but not be able to tour, says it all. Or, to hear that Warner Brothers told Valierie Ellis they didn’t know what to do with a Black female country singer and that sometimes, “people hear with their eyes,” made this anniversary celebration night a full circle moment to me. To see independent artists producing their own material, not ruled by the auspices of this city and genre, is very satisfying for my soul. So many people have been blessed by the Black Opry.

I performed with the Black Opry at Exit/In in December of 2021, when we were all afforded the opportunity to meet and perform with Allison Russell, for whom there are no adequate words to describe. From seeing all the accolades and television appearances Allison has had, crossing my fingers for her Grammy nominations, and seeing her collaborate with artists – like Brandi Carlile, the musically proficient Milwaukee-born duo, Sistastrings, and the masterful, New Orleans-born guitar virtuoso, incredible vocalist, and songwriter, Joy Clark – has been a wonderful experience for me. I also just witnessed the premiere of Roberta Lea’s new video, “If I’m Too Much of a Woman” from Times Square in New York City. She was included in the 2023 class of CMT’s Next Women of Country. My introduction to all of these artists came through the Black Opry. 

Black Opry serves as a place for artists, musicians, and songwriters to find in others what they may lack, which is so rich. This is a warm place to be yourself and not be ostracized for loving a music that did not love you back, historically. In its infancy, Black Opry is just beginning to break ground. In a city where there was major marginalization and gaslighting, Black Opry just walked through doors without stumbling, forging into the future without any apologies for being in the room. They will only build from here, and I know for a fact that there are no limitations, just the next opportunities.

There are moments that I can’t help but tear up at the memory of those who are no longer in it. Those who sacrificed so much for this music, but were severely shortchanged: Jae Mason, a brilliant singer, songwriter and guitarist, wrote about “Little Cowboys and Cowgirls of Color” when he asked his mom why he didn’t “see Black cowboys on TV.” Scott Eversoll, who sang the wonderful Troy McConnell song, “What Color Am I?” And, Wheels, an all-Black country band from Lanett, Alabama, that toured extensively in the U.S. before losing their lead singer, Chris, to a massive heart attack. Iconic would be the only word to describe these guys. 

As a person who is blessed to witness both generations, I will always feel a sense of sadness for those who are no longer in it and a profound joy and excitement for those that are right here, right now. And I will always carry the spirit of those who tried with me.

I hope you have an opportunity to see a Black Opry concert. This is a historic, unforgettable, long-overdue celebration of some long-held trade secrets – finally here for the world to witness.

Photo Credit: Gabriel Barreto

BGS 5+5: LULLANAS

Posted on by Editor

Artist: LULLANAS (twin sisters Atisha and Nishita Lulla)
Hometown: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Latest album: Before Everything Got Real EP

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

It’s really hard for us to pick just one… honestly our music catalogue really started developing when we noticed the music in the background of tv/film/commercials. Once we saw how instrumental (pun intended) songs were to telling the story… that’s what really took our breathe away. Some artists who inspire us through that realm are Ingrid Michaelson, Peter Bradley Adams, and Gregory Alan Isakov.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

We drove down to Nashville for a week and got a chance to play at the Bluebird. It was a moment we built up in our heads for a while and it did not let us down. We only played a few songs, but as soon as Nishita strummed the first chord to our song “Melody” on her guitar… the room went silent. It was the kind of intensity every artist craves. We could tell that the audience was taking in every feeling, every lyric, every note and any intimate artist to listener moment like that is a favorite stage moment for us.

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?

When we aren’t creating music, we are in the kitchen baking up a storm. For us, baking is all about the process and attention to detail. The same goes for our music. One of our favorite things to do is create custom cookie designs inspired by artists who we look up to. We use baking as another outlet of artistic release. What we can’t write/sing about, we can bake about.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

We had the chorus scribbled on a page for one of our songs off our latest EP. It was just a chorus for about seven months. No matter how bad we wanted to finish it… we just couldn’t. Eventually, taking a step back from it was what helped us complete it. It was one of the toughest times, but also one of the most rewarding.

If you had to write a mission statement for your career, what would it be?

To create music that helps people feel something in a world that can be a little numbing at times.

Photo credit: Lenne Chai

Rod Picott Feared This Might Be His Final Album

Posted on by Editor

Rod Picott writes from the heart, and that’s particularly true on his new album, Tell the Truth & Shame the Devil. A frightening heart condition – mercifully caught just in time – shifted his songwriting perspective inward, resulting in 12 news songs recorded with merely an acoustic guitar, a harmonica, and a storyteller’s voice.

That’s a familiar set-up to anyone who’s seen Picott perform over the last 20 years. The Nashville-based songwriter released his first album, Tiger Tom Dixon’s Blues, in 2001, and he’s toured almost constantly since then. While most of his albums are fully produced, Tell the Truth & Shame the Devil is almost whispered in places, inviting listeners to lean in.

Lately, Picott has turned his attention to writing fiction, poetry, and a screenplay, but music remains a central theme of his life and career, clearly evidenced by a conversation in a Nashville coffee shop.

BGS: I’m curious about the song “Ghost,” because it describes somebody who seems to be at the end of his rope. What was on your mind when you were writing that song?

RP: I was in the middle of [the health scare] when I wrote that one. I did feel there was a time during the making of this record where I thought it’s possible that this will be the last record that I get to make. And if that’s the case, what do I want to say? How do I want it to be? I realize that sounds dramatic, maybe overdramatic, but when you’re in the middle of it, it sure doesn’t feel like that.

Because you thought you weren’t going to live? Or you weren’t going to be able to sing?

Didn’t know. I mean, I knew something was wrong and I knew it had something to do with my heart. My blood work came in. The doctor called me at night. Of course they don’t do that. He’s the on-call guy and he basically said, “You need to stop whatever you’re doing right now. You need to drive to the pharmacy and pick up this prescription. I’ve already called it in. They’re waiting for you.” He said, “You need to do it right now or you might not make it through the night, because your potassium level is so high, it’s messing with the electrical signals to your heart.” A simple thing like that — potassium levels. Who would know? They eventually got it figured out.

Did it affect the way you sing, or your singing voice in general?

I was weaker when I was recording, to be honest with you, which might have played a role in how intimate the recording sounds. I’m singing pretty quietly on most of the songs. Not all of them, which is counterintuitive because the quieter I sang, the bigger it sounded, which is very strange. It’s like cinéma-vérité, like I’m actually living the thing that I’m singing about, and it’s playing a role in how I’m singing.

I can hear some of that, but it’s not like this album has 12 songs from the brink of doom.

No, no, there’s a range. And there’s one song from 20 years ago, “Spartan Hotel,” which never fit in any of the other records, but it felt right for this record. There’s a handful of songs I still like from back then, but they just haven’t fit on a project.

On “Mama’s Boy,” you’re singing about boxing and it reminded me of “Tiger Tom Dixon’s Blues,” from your debut album. What’s your relationship with those older songs now? Do you still like to play those songs from the early records?

I’m still proud of them, yeah. I still play those songs from that first record. I wish I could redo the performances now, because I think I’m a better, more honest singer than I was then. But when I moved to Nashville, or even before I moved, I promised myself I wasn’t going to make a record until I had 10 songs I thought were worth people hearing. So that served me well, even though it took me a long time to get there. That first record, the songs themselves still hold up. I still play them all the time.

What was it like for you to move to Nashville in that era? What was your impression of it here?

I was married at the time and obviously my wife came with me. I’d never been to Nashville. I didn’t know anybody that lived in Nashville. I didn’t even know anybody who knew anybody who lived in Nashville. So it was completely blind. We got a hotel downtown and went for a walk. And of course, in 1994, half of downtown was boarded up, old porno shops and stuff.

At one point on the walk, we were looking for a restaurant. You couldn’t even find a single restaurant. We couldn’t find any place to eat. She just stopped and started sobbing: “Why did you bring me here?” [Laughs] But over the next six months or a year, I figured out the lay of the land. Playing a lot of open mics, and meeting other writers and really working hard at trying to decode how the town worked.

How did you found your tribe? Just going out to open mics?

Yeah, for sure. That was a big part of it. And writers nights where they would have a little 20-minute spot, as opposed to just getting on the list. Those were better, kind of playing a mini set. It was a huge learning curve. I loved to go into the Bluebird Café. I used to go to the early shows at the Bluebird right after work and sit at the end of the bar. I was one of those classic guys with a notepad, which is really annoying to other songwriters, because they feel like you’re stealing the song. Which I wasn’t, I was just making notes about what worked and what didn’t. It was wonderful. Soon after that, I realized Nashville had John Prine, Lucinda Williams, Gillian Welch, and Guy Clark, and I thought, OK, this gives me a marker to shoot for.

In your work, there’s often a theme of your family and a theme of a work ethic — and a lot of times they’re in the same song. Is that something that was instilled in you?

I think it’s just you write what you know. That really defined my childhood. My father was a solid, blue collar union guy, in the pipefitters union. He was a welder and surrounded by other really hardworking men. So I’ve always been really interested in that, because I was a slightly unusual kid. I was very sensitive, which didn’t work with my father’s personality. I don’t think he really knew what to do with me. Now I can look back and see the kid that’s me, and I can think, “Well, now I understand it. I was an artist.” But I was just a kid. I wasn’t there yet, so it was a very uncomfortable relationship for a long, long time with my father.

I’ve always been interested in those themes. Also I was in the construction world for a long, long time, for almost 20 years. I was a sheetrock hanger and finisher. Having an artistic nature and working in the construction world is a very, very tricky balancing act. I had to learn how to be tougher, which wasn’t my nature, really. I learned when you had to stand up for yourself and not get run over, but it was uncomfortable. I always felt like I had one foot in the arts and one foot in this working world. I took it seriously and I was really good at it. I loved walking out of a job and seeing those clean lines and knowing I did the best I could, and that the painter was going to have a really easy time with the job.

That’s pride in your work.

Yes. And that’s part of your inner makeup. That’s either there or not. It’s not something you can fake or create.

You’ve been doing making music as you’re living for a while now. What’s your secret?

You almost have to be in a state where you can’t not do it. I do remember having a really specific moment before I put the first record out. I was 35 years old and I had been in Nashville for six years then, I guess. I did have an afternoon where I had this sort of “come to Jesus” moment where I thought, “Man, if you’re not going to do it now, you’re not going to do it. Like, today. You start today.” I remember the feeling coming over me, and it was almost like panic, realizing that I hadn’t started yet, not really. I was learning and I was working hard at it, but I wasn’t really committed to it. I was sort of testing it to see if I could do it. That afternoon, I committed to it and I never looked back.

Photo credit: Stacie Huckeba

Nashville Ballet Teams Up with Bluebird Café for ‘Attitude’

Posted on by Editor

The Nashville Ballet has never shied away from an artistic challenge. Quite the opposite, really — they continually seek out new paths to blaze, often incorporating the work of local musicians. For the past few years, their Attitude series has been at the forefront of that particular movement, turning to artists like Matthew Perryman Jones and Sugar + the Hi-Lows to perform alongside their dancers.

This year, Attitude finds the Ballet partnering with the famed Bluebird Café to present a songwriters' round like no other. Hit songs by Victoria Banks, Georgia Middleman, and J.T. Harding underscore cutting-edge choreography by Christopher Stuart, Banning Bouldin, Brian Enos, and Gina Patterson as the Ballet re-imagines an experience unique to Nashville on its stage. The show runs February 12-14 at the Tennessee Performing Arts Center.

Describe the process of culling through songs to find the ones that had Attitude written all over them.

Paul Vasterling (Nashville Ballet Artistic Director): I worked very closely with Erika Wollam Nichols (Bluebird Café General Manager) to curate Attitude’s set list. Ultimately, we were looking for songwriters that would be unafraid to take a chance with us. In a way, the musicians have had to release creative control in order to allow the choreographers to step in and freely interpret their music. These songwriters have not only been open to that, but have fully embraced it. They’re each digging deeper into their songwriting and experiencing entirely new layers of their art by seeing it through another person’s eyes.

The three musicians — Victoria Banks, J.T. Harding, and Georgia Middleman — complement each other in a beautiful, effortless way. They are inherently different, yet create this harmonious balance when put together — which, of course, is perfect in a writers’ round setting. The nine songs we chose are very different from one another, yet make sense when paired together. Choosing the music was a delicate balancing act, but I think it overall captures the full spectrum of the Bluebird experience.

Erika introduced the song “City of Dreams” pretty early on in the process, and that instantly became the overarching theme for the ballet. The song was written by Victoria following the 2010 Nashville flood to raise funds for the Red Cross. The song resembles the unity of this city and the idea of building community, and that’s exactly what this ballet is about.

Victoria, how does it feel watching your songs come to life through bodies and movement?

Victoria Banks: Like most songwriters, I write music in order to connect with people. The goal is to evoke an emotional response from the audience. As a songwriter, the tools I’m able to work with are lyric and melody. These tools are powerful, yet also limiting. The added visual element of dance to my songs takes the emotional connection to an entirely new level. To me, it feels downright spiritual. Instead of one person with a guitar eliciting that emotional response, it now suddenly becomes a huge communal experience. It’s not just one person pouring out their soul — it’s an entire stage full of people.

It’s been a fascinating process watching the dancers learn the choreography and put their own spin on it. What has struck me the most is how the smallest change in the intention and emotion of a dancer changes the movement entirely. It’s really quite amazing.

Has this project shifted your perception or connection to the songs at all?

VB: I’ve been playing live throughout the rehearsal process with the dancers, and it’s actually been challenging performing when they’re dancing. Suddenly, the same songs I’ve been playing for years now feel so new and intense that it chokes me up. Songs tend to mean different things to different people, so the choreographers are adding their own layer of interpretation. Then, on top of that, each dancer is adding their own emotional interpretation to the movements. It drives home the belief I’ve always had: Songwriters are not the source of what we write; we are the conduit.

Music, like any form of creativity, comes from a universal source beyond our understanding. On a good day, we're just lucky enough to tap into that creative source, and what comes through can be translated in many different ways. These choreographers and dancers are holding up a mirror and reflecting back a side of my songs that I didn’t even know was there because I’ve always only heard them in my own limited way.

How is the choreography different in a setting like this than it would be otherwise?

Christopher Stuart: Choreographing for this year’s Attitude has been unlike anything I’ve created before. The overarching goal is to evoke the same look and feel as a Bluebird writers’ round, but to amplify the experience by adding the visual layer of dance. We’re experimenting with several elements we’ve never used before in order to bring the Bluebird to a larger stage in an authentic, truthful way.

The three Bluebird musicians will join the dancers on stage and sing their songs acoustically, unlike previous pieces I’ve choreographed with the artists performing with full bands to the side of the stage. The musicians will also share the stories behind their hits, which is an aspect we’ve never incorporated into a performance at Nashville Ballet. I’ve also added Bluebird Café-style tables and chairs into the choreography, along with interactions between the dancers and musicians. This piece has a much more stripped-down, intimate feel in comparison to what we’re typically used to presenting. It feels very fresh and innovative, which is exactly the point of our Attitude series.

Erika, thinking back to your early days in Nashville and at the Bluebird, could you have imagined what it would become through collaborations like this one and with the Nashville show?

Erika Wollam Nichols (Bluebird Café General Manager): When I first started working at the Bluebird, we were a small café that served lunch and dinner, and had some music in the evenings. Comparing the very early days to today, it's hard to believe how the venue has expanded and the mission become more focused.

Now, the Bluebird has become synonymous with songwriters, songs, and incredible talent, concentrating on original music and the people who create it. Expanding that focus has become a large part of the Bluebird's mission and it continues to grow, allowing us to share the magic and the importance of songwriters to our lives and our culture.

Through the past 34 years, the venue has a long history of outreach and collaborations, from a series with the Disney Institute, to our 14-year-old Bluebird on the Mountain series in partnership with Vanderbilt's Dyer Observatory and our equally as long relationship with Robert Redford's Sundance Resort in Utah. ABC's Nashville has made the Bluebird a landmark and given us the opportunity to present songwriters to a much greater audience. This is not the first collaboration with the Nashville Ballet, but we are thrilled to be involved in 2016 and to see our beloved songwriters' music represented through dance.