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By Mary Carpenter Escuche. Preparar. Esperanza. These were among the handful of Portuguese words I could make out during the sermon at Sunday Mass in Lisbon. It was too early to check into my hotel, so I had popped my head in the door to look at the 15th century murals, and perhaps see if my rusty Spanish would be of any use here. “Listen. Prepare. Hope,” the priest said. This much I understood. My trip to Lisbon was an unexpected solo adventure. One week earlier, I was with my family in a pub in Northwest Ireland starting a long-planned vacation to visit my college-age son, Patrick, who was studying in Dublin for the semester. My daughter, Sally, was enjoying her first Guinness when I got the text that my Uncle Jack had passed away after a long illness. Jack grew up in a small town in Indiana, like everyone else in my family. Unlike everyone else, he settled in Norway after marrying a Swedish exchange student. The funeral would be in Oslo, a mere 800 miles from where I sat. “You should go,” my husband said. At any other time in the last 30 years, this would have been a challenge. But I had left my job as an advertising executive a month earlier. I decided to take a bit of time off to help my 85-year old father, and to spend time with my daughter before she left for college in the fall. For once in my life, I had the freedom to do something spontaneous. When it became clear that my dad was determined to make the trip from Indiana despite his health challenges, that tipped the scales. My brother would accompany him, and I would meet them in Oslo some five days after the end of my family’s Irish vacation. I would have stayed in Dublin a bit longer, but Patrick had classes and exams. And my husband and daughter had to get back to Chicago. A few Google searches told me that it would cost me less to go to Lisbon compared to staying in chilly, dark Dublin, or waiting in chilly, even-darker Oslo. I checked my weather app and started making reservations when I saw three days of sun icons and 58 degree temperatures. I landed in Lisbon on Sunday morning and headed straight for the The Luminares, a boutique hotel I found on Chase Rewards that turned out to be a luxurious and relaxing spot on the edge of Bairro Alto, which roughly translates as “High Neighborhood”. Indeed, it seemed The Luminares was at the very highest point of Lisbon, so after storing my bags with the concierge, I set off down the hill to explore the city. The narrow lanes of Bairro Alto are enchanting, with tile sidewalks and fresh laundry strung across balconies. I went looking for tourist attractions without a map or an app, which is when I wandered into Igreja de Nossa Senhora do Loreto just as the 1 p.m. Mass was beginning. I later learned the church is more than 500 years old, and like dozens of others in Lisbon, has extraordinary Renaissance-era paintings and murals set in small “chapels” around the church perimeter. After settling into my room, I walked back down the hill in search of a rental bike to take me to the Sunday market at LX Factory, which a bit of hasty research had identified as a cool spot in an up and coming area of Lisbon. I found Lisbon Bike Rentals and in no time rented an electric bike, helmet and lock. With the electric boost, it was an easy ride along the Tagus River to LX Factory, which was hopping on a Sunday afternoon with a bustling outdoor flea market to complement the hip shops and galleries. I bought a piece of pottery for Sally at the flea market and a tin of fish for my husband at O Mundo Fantastico da Sardinha Portuguesa (yes, there is a store called The Fantastic World of Portuguese Sardines). I had dinner that night at Grapes and Bites in Bairro Alto, a cute tavern with excellent Portuguese cheese and a nice green salad. While official wine tasting hours were over, the bartender happily let me sample different wines. I enjoyed them while listening to a violin/guitar duo sing acoustic hits, including an awesome rendition of Baby Shark for a curious toddler. The next morning, I made my way to Praca do Comercio, the starting point of the Rick Steves Walking Tour of Lisbon (download the excellent free app here). I’ve never done a self-guided audio tour outside of a museum exhibit, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. But it was excellent. I spent more than four hours walking, listening and learning all about Lisbon, all the while thinking that I would never have done a tour like this if I weren’t traveling solo. It is impossible to spend time in Lisbon without learning that the pivotal event in the city’s history was the 1755 earthquake, which killed more than 50,000 people and leveled much of the city. The charming style of Lisbon architecture – with tile facades, symmetrical balconies and cobblestone sidewalks – was born during the rebuilding of Lisbon. The audio tour focused on three primary neighborhoods of Lisbon: The Baixa, the historic center of town and the location of many of the city’s landmarks; Chiado, with it’s fashionable shops and restaurants; And Bairro Alto, the bohemian quarter known for nightlife and steep hills. Highlights of the tour include the grand Rua Augusta Arch near Praca do Comercio, the Igreja de Sao Roque – one of the earliest Jesuit churches with beautiful baroque chapels, and the Convento de Carmo, the ruins of a medival convent that was partially destroyed by the earthquake. The tour also points out classic delicacies of Lisbon, including bacalou (dried cod – they eat a lot of it), patel de nata (a decadent creamy tart), and ginjinha (a cherry liquor sold from a centuries-old storefront bar). And it was a treat to ride the Elevador da Gloria, a bright yellow funicular up an impossibly steep hill. I had dinner that night at Lisbon’s Time Out Market, an upscale food hall featuring outposts of some of the best restaurants in the city. You can order from limited menus at more than forty restaurants and take your food to open seating in the middle of the market. But if you’re by yourself, it’s nicer to sit at the bar on the opposite side of kitchens. I had a wonderful dish of gambas al ajillo (garlic shrimp) at O Surf and Turf with a crisp Portugeuse rose. I booked a food tour with Treasures of Lisboa for Tuesday at 10am. I joined three other solo travelers from the US and Canada, plus a couple from Dubai, on a three-hour tour through the charming neighborhood of Alfama. Francesco was an excellent tour guide, sharing bits of history about the area while introducing us to some fantastic food. Among the 14 different tastings were patel de nata (fresh from the oven), Portuguese sardines, codfish croquettes and a Portuguese green wine (which is actually white, and delicious). Alfama is one of the oldest districts in Lisbon, having been largely spared by the earthquake, and it was a pleasure to walk through medieval courtyards and winding lanes as we enjoyed local food and drinks. This neighborhood is also the birthplace of Fado, a soulful style of music that is unique to Portugal. After the tour, I spent an hour at the Museo do Fado, which was well worth the 5 Euro admission price. Besides the Portuguese mass on Sunday, I had no trouble communicating in English throughout the city. That changed on Tuesday evening when I went to a local self-serve laundromat to make sure I had clean clothes for my trip to Oslo. While I struggled with the coin-operated machines, a kind Portuguese women pointed and nodded until I figured it out. I had dinner near the hotel at Tapa Boa Hora, a tapas restaurant that was more Spanish than Portuguese, which reminded me of my own semester abroad more than 30 years ago, in Spain. I had a tortilla española with a glass of Rioja, warm laundry in a bag at my feet. As the plane to Oslo took off the next morning, I looked out the airplane window at the city of Lisbon. I was glad I’d have some special time with my dad in the next few days and was looking forward to getting home to see Sally, who was anxiously awaiting news about college admissions. Before long, I’d have to get serious about my job search, but I was trying not to worry about it quite yet. I repeated the words I’d translated from the sermon at Igreja de Nossa Senhora do Loreto which seemed to be telling me what to do – with my dad, my daughter and my career. Listen. Prepare. Hope.

By JOHN CARPENTER It’s a summer game, of course. But golf was really made for the fall. Gone are the muddy fairways of April and the withering heat of August. It’s the time to step out onto an elevated tee box in air as crisp as the colors below and the sky above, then watch your tee shot soar over the oranges and reds — though hopefully not among them. Almost any golf course is nice in autumn. But here are a few that might take your breath away. Crystal Mountain Thompsonville, Mich. The Mountain Ridge course winds up and down the wooded terrain, sometimes nestled down among the tress, other times perched above them. Traversing the long and winding cart paths through the woods is part of the fun. And there’s a full-service resort and spa for companions not interested in teeing it up. Bring a camera to the tee box on five. French Lick Resort French Lick and West Baden, Ind. The Pete Dye course is probably the big draw here. But layouts by the legendary Donald Ross as well as Tom Bendelow round out a trio of enticing options at this revived resort in the beautiful rolling hills of southern Indiana. There are full service hotels and spas, as well as a casino. Eagle Ridge Galena, Ill. The flat terrain that makes up much of Illinois isn’t a great recipe for scenic fall golf. But the hills that bunch up along the mighty Mississippi do the trick nicely. The Andy North-designed General is the signature track. But the North and South courses don’t disappoint. And it’s tough to beat quaint Galena in the fall. Whistling Straits Kohler, Wis. The Straits, perched along the shores of Lake Michigan, is the most famous of the Kohler courses. With views that will take the sting out of any errant shots, it’s one of the country’s most beautiful places to play the game. And Kohler’s nearby American Club offers a full-service spa resort. There’s also “The Irish,” a sister course just inland, laced with four wandering streams. Arcadia Bluffs Arcadia, Mich. Like Whistling Straits across the lake, Arcadia delivers one jaw-dropping view after another. It’s still a bit off the beaten path, but growing hotel and cabin accommodations make for a lovely stop on a fall color tour. Do yourself a favor and time your round to end at cocktail hour, which you can spend in an Adirondack chair watching the best sunset you’ll ever see.

Last minute live music decisions in Nashville rarely disappoint. In this case we stumbled on a gem; an art gallery performance by Aida Victoria and her band. We’d “discovered” Victoria with help from Jason Isbell, who had her open for him last year at the Ryman. We were impressed then. At OZ Arts Nashville on a Friday night, on a knee-high stage in front of a few hundred people, we were blown away. Her style is described as “gothic blues,” which fits. Victoria sees the world with the keen eye of a poet and plays it back with sharp-edged passion. One moment she is haunting and breathy; a little girl trying to make sense of her world. The next moment she is raging and powerful; a grown woman who’s having none of it, in the tradition of folk-blues greats like Odetta. One introduction to a song offered a glimpse into her unique voice. She told us she wrote “Mean-Hearted Woman” when she was immersing herself in the great blues singers, most of them men. “I noticed that a lot of their songs were about mean-hearted women, so I wondered what made those women mean-hearted,” she said. The song builds from hurt confusion to powerful rage. My baby woke me on Christmas Day He said it's time for me to go my way I ask him "Why you wanna say that for?" He just packed my bag and put me out the door” Now the snow is falling through the pine You used to tell me that your home was mine At first I was sad, and then I was blue And now I'm so mad I don't know what I might do You made me a mean-hearted woman Victoria closed with “South Gotta Change,” a song from last year that was something of a hit for her, and that anchors her latest album, Southern Gothic. A native of South Carolina who now lives in Nashville, she said the murder of George Floyd and the death of John Lewis inspired the song. The lyrics speak for themselves. I stood up to the mountain Told the mountain, "Say my name" And if you're tired of walking Let the children lead the way 'Cause I love you, I won't leave you Won't let you slip away Come what may We're gonna find a way The South gotta change You can see the official video for the song here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XEm0qOxhGxo Victoria is off on a tour that will take her all over the country and to Europe. Do yourself a favor and check her out while you can still see her in smaller rooms.

This is one of our favorite curry recipes. The creamy red curry sauce is amazing with shrimp, red pepper and broccilini, plus a bit of spinach mixed in at the end. It's easy to make for 2 people, but you might want to double the recipe since it is even better the next day! Ingredients for Two Servings Shrimp: Half of a 1 pound bag of defrosted raw shrimp: I buy the kind in the seafood freezer called "Easy to Peel" that are deveined, but still have the shells and tails. Vegetables: 1 small onion (or half of a large one), 1 garlic clove, Half of a red pepper, 2 stems of broccolini and a handful of spinach Pantry items: 1 can of coconut milk, 2 tablespoons Thai red curry paste, 1/2 tablespoon of brown sugar and a splash of soy sauce Cooking oil: 1/2 tablespoon each of butter and olive oil Toppings: Fresh cilantro and/or basil, crushed peanuts and lime wedges Instructions for Two Servings Defrost half of a bag of frozen raw shrimp overnight in the refrigerator, of a hour or two ahead of time in cold water. Peel the shrimp and remove the tails. Dice onion and half of a red pepper. Remove stems and coursely chop the broccolini. Melt 1/2 a tablespoon of butter and 1/2 tablespoon of olive oil in a deep saucepan. Saute onion and red pepper for 5 minutes over medium-low heat. Add brocolini and saute another 5 mintues. Peel and crush garlic clove and add to saute mixture. Saute for 1 minute. Add 1 can of coconut milk, 2 tablespoons of red curry paste and 1/2 tablespoon of brown sugar to vegetable mixture. Cook gently for 3-5 minutes. Add defrosted, peeled shrimp saucepan and cook for 5-7 minutes. Stir halfway through and turn shrimp if needed. Add a dash of soy sauce and a handful of spinach 1 minute before serving Serve over a bed of white rice, and top with fresh herbs, crushed peanuts and a squeeze of lime REMINDER: At emptynestquest.com, we make it easy to cook for two people by designing recipes meant for two rather than four. Please adjust to meet your needs. I hope you'll love this curry as much we do!

I’ve always turned to wandering driving trips in times of slumping stress. Few things clear my head better than a winding country road toward someplace I’ve never been – in this case the gentle beauty of Middle Tennessee. My wife and I will be living in Nashville once this virus is wrestled to the ground. And we’ve quietly scouted it on a couple of careful, socially distanced trips. But as a native New Englander who’s never lived below the Mason Dixon line, I wanted to get to know the land around it. What I found, in a meandering drive from Murfreesboro to Lynchburg to Columbia, is an inviting place of living history, tasty food, thoroughly drinkable whiskey, and friendly people happy to share a story. Murfreesboro seemed like a good place to start, and I rolled in just around dinner time. Advice from a local sent me to the The Alley on Main, which did not disappoint. It’s located just off the courthouse square, and do yourself a favor and wander around the heart of downtown. The Rutherford County Courthouse, built in 1859 after the original – which once served as the Tennessee state capital – burned down, is one of only six antebellum courthouses still standing in Tennessee. Beautifully lit for the holidays, it was an antidote to a day of windshield time. The Alley is a family owned place and proud of it, and especially of the seafood they fly in fresh. I opted instead for a bone-in ribeye and a sturdy cabernet, and appreciated that my server asked me to make sure it was done to my liking before he left. It was. The first bite was a perfect reward after a day in the car. What really stole the show was a side of crispy Brussels sprouts, cooked to perfection with a little Dijon mustard. Delicious. Under normal circumstances I would have been happy to settle into the friendly bar for a drink and a chat with some of the locals. This being 2020, however, I retreated, well-fed, to my hotel. The next day it was a short drive from my clean and comfortable Holiday Inn Express to the Stones River Battlefield. I inherited my love of history from my father, who we lost in March of this year. So it was with a twinge of missing him that I set out in a gentle rain. The 650-acre site, run by the National Parks Service, is far more than a few statues and plaques. Large swaths of the original field of battle are preserved. I easily downloaded a National Parks app, and was quickly driving from stop to stop, listening to the excellent narration as I looked out on the land it was describing. “On the field before you stood 30,000 union soldiers,” the voice told me as I looked out on an empty field. It was easy, and very powerful, to imagine the young men standing ready to fight, and to think of the carnage when they did. Fought from Dec. 31, 1962 to Jan. 2, 1863, it was one of the bloodiest confrontations of the Civil War, with more than 80,000 troops fighting to either capture or defend the vital Nashville road and the railroad line that runs beside it. When three days of fighting was over, more than 23,000 men were dead, wounded or captured. The union army secured a key foothold that helped launch attacks further to the south. Especially moving is the Stones River National Cemetery, where about 6,000 soldiers are buried. Next it was a drive of about an hour down US 231 to Lynchburg, home of the oldest registered distillery in the United States. Jasper Newton Daniel – aka Jack – set up his still here at the mouth of Cave Spring in 1866, starting a steady flow of Tennessee whiskey that would one day wind up in the hands of Frank Sinatra himself. I’ll be honest. While I expected there to be Jack Daniels distilled in Lynchburg, I assumed it would be some token operation set up to honor the legacy. The vast majority of the wildly popular beverage was no doubt churned out in some massive industrial complex that was part of a corporate conglomerate churning out all manner of name-brand beverages. Not true. Every drop of Jack Daniels – upwards of 20 million cases of whiskey a year – is distilled, barreled and aged in Lynchburg. As a relatively new appreciator of whiskey, the tour was an engaging class in the art of distilling. We stood directly under the chimney of where massive piles of sugar maple are burned every day to create the charcoal that makes Jack Daniels Tennessee whiskey. Not merely distilled and barreled, the whiskey here is slowly drip-drip-dripped through massive cauldrons of small maple charcoal pieces. It takes days for each drop to work its way to the bottom of the 14-foot high containers. Only then is it ready to be poured into the hand-made, charred-oak barrels where it will sit for several years, until the master distiller determines it is ready. Especially powerful is a small grotto at the mouth of the Cave Spring. It is here that Daniel set up his first still more than 150 years ago. You can still see the stains from charred smoke on the rocks above the entrance. And you can see this same water running in a small stream into the distillery. The tour includes the entire process, and can also include a tasting at the end, which mine did. I sampled the top shelf offerings, including Jack Daniel’s No. 27 Gold; a Single Barrel Select as well as a high-octane Barrel Proof Select; and a Single Barrel Rye. The highlight, though, was a sip of the Sinatra Select, created in honor of the man himself, who used to take a sip on stage and declare Jack Daniel’s “the nectar of the Gods.” He is credited with popularizing the brand. Speaking of tasting, I was thankful it involved a pleasant walk through the grounds – the better to walk off an extravagantly portioned and delicious lunch at the famous Mary Bobo’s Restaurant in Lynchburg. In operation since 1908, when it was a boarding house, it features classic southern fare. My plate was loaded with ham, chicken and dressing with giblet gravy, sweet potato casserole, mac and cheese, fried okra, creole green beans, cranberry relish, Lynchburg candied apples and a biscuit. (I think I just regained a few pounds just thinking about!) Food at Mary Bobos is normally served family style, at large tables with mixed groups. While I enjoy the friendly conversation with strangers that such a tradition encourages, I was grateful that the practice is temporarily on hold because of the pandemic. I ate at my own table, with only one other family seated at the far end of the room, safely distanced. Service is provided by co-op students from nearby Motlow State Community College, part of a longstanding program run by Jack Daniel’s, which has owned the restaurant since the early 1980s. Students work at every job in the restaurant. And the ones who took care of me were polite and attentive, a pleasant complement to the delicious food. I had planned on dinner in downtown Lynchburg, in particular at Barrel House Barbecue, which I’d been told serves a decadent “Grilled Cheese on Crack” – the traditional sandwich infused with pulled pork. I was too full from Mary Bobo’s, however, and decided to push on to Columbia. As the father of two children who has, I believe, perfected the art of the grilled cheese sandwich, I shall return. Columbia This resurgent little county seat about 45 minutes south of Nashville is a gem. The courthouse square is sprinkled with restaurants, taverns, coffee shops, art galleries, and even a record shop and a book store. (Be still my beating heart.) It’s gotten attention lately as American Pickers host Mike Wolfe is renovating and old car dealership, along with auto restorer Mike Mefford. I’m told Wolfe is a regular around town, and has bought other buildings, part of a surge in investment likely to intensify as folks spread out from the city in search of more space. I got a custom tour of the downtown from Chris Coyne, owner of Muletown Coffee. After retiring from the U.S. Air Force, Coyne built a second career as a leadership consultant. He landed in Columbia and is now owner of his own coffee roaster. He has a shop in the square, but also does a brisk wholesale business, as well as online retail, both of which helped him ride out the loss of business from the pandemic. My day started with a two-mile hike on the Cheeks Bend Bluff View Trail. Although I was a little nervous – it was hunting season and I was not wearing the recommended blaze-orange – the fresh air and solitude was great. Then it was a fiery lunch at of brisket, sweet potato fries, baked beans and cole slaw at Puckett’s. I’ll definitely be back when they are able to host live music again. The brief tour at the President James K. Polk Home and Museum was about the right length. I’m a fan of presidential history, and the house is beautifully preserved. And our tour guide was helpful and interesting. But there’s only so much I need to know about the slave-owning protégé of slave-owning Andrew Jackson. I also visited BriarWorks USA, a boutique pipe-making factory for a tour. If, like me, you grew up in a house where there was pipe smoke, it will bring back good memories. Dinner started with a beer tasting at Taps Off Main, which offers 26 continuously rotating taps of craft beer, along with a large selection of cans to go. There’s also a friendly bar atmosphere, and host Will Hoelscher is there to help curate some new favorites. Dinner was at Vanh Dys, which celebrates the food and culture of Laos, Thailand, and Vietnam. I’ve learned that places like this – Asian restaurants in towns not necessarily know for their Asian populations – are hit or miss. Vanh Dys is definitely a hit. The food is fresh and spicy. The cocktails are well-crafted. And the vibe was relaxed and friendly. They normally present live music on the weekends, and I’ll be back for that. But I was relieved the entertainment had called in sick. The four people at the bar, including me, were comfortably spaced. But it was easy to imagine a lively weekend crowd populating the well-designed lounge area. It’s a space that wants you to relax and have a drink. My lodging for two nights was the Blythewood Inn B&B, and it couldn’t have been better, given the circumstances. While I normally might have spent very little time in my hotel room, the pandemic did not lend itself to lingering out late in the evening. This beautiful old mansion gave me the most comfortable hotel bed I’ve had in years, along with a warm fireplace and antique furniture that was as comfortable as it was beautiful. #AmericanPickers #JackDaniels #MikeWolfe #Tennessee Check out Viator.com, our favorite source of authentic local experiences.

It’s so wonderful when an artist you’ve been wanting to see for years comes through with a killer show. Such was the case with the great Bonnie Raitt at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville last night. She checked all the boxes: A voice as good as it’s ever sounded; a tight, bluesy band; a setlist that mixed old chestnuts and fresh material; a great venue, and an energized, receptive, adoring crowd. It also helped that Raitt was clearly happy to be there, both in the hallowed hall and out on the road after the Covid lockdown. It was, start to finish, a memorable show. So why is it that 12 hours later all I can think about is one song from her setlist? It starts with the fact that John Prine’s “Angel From Montgomery” is one of my all-time favorite songs. And Raitt’s best-known version – a live track with Prine himself joining her – is the definitive performance of it. The mixture of her soaring contralto and his homespun grit elevates the beauty of the simple, sad story of a woman who feels trapped, and older than she is. “The last time I played that song here,” an emotional Raitt told the crowd, “John was standing next to me.” Prine, a Chicago native but longtime Nashville resident, died from Covid in 2020. So there was no chance of another duet. Indeed, Raitt said she had only recently begun to sing the song again, having been unable to after his death. Although her band is great, it was fitting that she mostly played this one alone on an acoustic guitar. The familiar opening notes triggered a smattering of recognition from the 2,300 people in the pews at the Mother Church of country music. Otherwise there was reverential silence, a simple G-C-D chord progression, and Raitt’s soft but powerful voice. “I am an old woman Named after my mother My old man is another Child that’s grown old. If dreams were lightning Thunder were desire This old house would have burnt down A long time ago” The song was released in 1971, part of Prine’s early body of work that was written when he was delivering mail in Chicago. The job gave him a glimpse of the not-always-happy lives of regular people, and yielded classics like “Sam Stone,” about a Vietnam veteran’s decline into heroin addiction, “Hello in There” about a forgotten older couple, and “Angel From Montgomery.” “I had this really vivid picture of this woman standing over the dishwater with soap in her hands, and just walking away from it all,” Prine said in an American Songwriter piece about the song. “So I just kept that whole idea image in mind when I was writing the song, and I just let it pour out of that character’s heart.” “You let the character write the song,” he said. I’ve heard this kind of talk from other great writers – the feeling of the words coming through you rather than from you. What makes the craft of songwriting so special is that those words can find yet another voice in another performer. Prine’s early version of the song, along with his many live versions out there, is fine in the way that most of his music is fine. It is honest, and vivid. It's unusual that a man is singing in the voice of a woman. But that heightens the fact that he's writing about emotions like despair and loneliness, which are not gender-specific. Raitt’s interpretation is is sublime, adding the sensation that you are actually hearing this woman herself. She builds perfectly perfectly to the crushing final verse, and into the beautiful chorus. “There’s flies in the kitchen I can hear ‘em they’re buzzing And I ain’t done nothing Since I woke up today How the hell can a person Go to work in the morning And come home in the evening And have nothing to say? Make me an angel That flies from Montgomery Make me a poster From an old rodeo Just give me one thing That I can hold on to To believe in this living Is just a hard way to go.” The moment, for me, was perfected by the fact that I was experiencing with my wife, who loves the song as much as I do, and with a gang of old friends who came to town for the show. A great song, performed beautifully, is a gift. Gifts are best shared. Hashtag grateful.

It was another one of those Nashville moments, when you are having a typical Sunday afternoon and you wind up a few feet away from a genuine music legend, playing songs and telling stories. In this case it was Charlie McCoy, the legendary Nashville A-Team session man. The Country Music Hall of Fame presents weekly “musician spotlights,” and this was one of them. Although McCoy is known as one of the best harmonica players in the world, with credits on thousands of country songs, he is a multi-instrumentalist. And I first heard him on Bob Dylan’s “Desolation Row,” from Highway 61 Revisted. It was recorded in New York in 1965, and producer Bob Johnston invited McCoy to sit in. Before he started producing Dylan, Johnston had been a fixture on the Nashville recording scene, where McCoy had been working since 1961. “Desolation Row” is memorable for two things – Dylan’s lyrics, at once obtuse and vivid; and McCoy’s simple and beautiful guitar fills, responding to every verse. As the story goes, Dylan had been skeptical of using a Nashville musician, but was amazed at how well the session went, and how quickly McCoy learned his part. Johnston told him this was the way the Nashville pros work. Eventually Dylan would record four albums in Nashville, opening a floodgate of non-country artists – from Peter Paul and Mary to the Byrds to Simon and Garfunkle - washing over the Music City. McCoy didn’t bring a guitar to the show we saw. But he was joined on stage by Jason Coleman, a young Nashville piano player, and the grandson of another Nashville legend, Floyd Cramer. “The very first session I played on, in 1961, Floyd Cramer played on that session,” McCoy said, noting the symmetry. Although we were there to see McCoy, Coleman was a worthy addition. He’s a master of the “slip-note” country piano style – think of Patsy Cline's "Crazy" - made famous by his grandfather. What the presence of Coleman also showcased was McCoy’s gift as an accompanist. A player of his stature in a setting like this could be excused for merely showing off his chops on the harp. But McCoy plays songs. Sometimes he was the lead, taking the melody. But other times he was the background, perfectly filling notes to sharpen the spotlight on Coleman. It was a master class in the musical craft. He took some questions and I asked him about playing with Dylan. Although he has publicly credited Dylan with expanding the Nashville recording scene, he didn't have much to say about him personally. "I played on five of his albums, and he never once knew the answer to 'hello,'" he told us. Elvis, on the other hand, "was one of the nicest people I ever played with." McCoy played on 13 Elvis albums. He closed the set we saw with an impressive harmonica display on "Orange Blossom Special," on which he recreates the sound of a train by rapidly changing keys back and forth between two harmonicas. But if you want to understand the true art of session work, give "He Stopped Loving Her Today" by George Jones a spin. Many consider it among the classic country music songs, and it features many of the A-team Nashville session players, from background singers to soaring strings. But when you catch McCoy's harmonica, it is the perfect accent to the moment. (For my money, they could have done away with the syrupy strings.) When you hear it, you don't think: "That is great harmonica." You think: "That is perfect, and not a note more than exactly what the song needs." You can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VExw77xJsBQ We'll certainly keep an eye out for more Country Music Hall of Fame spotlights!

Shawn Colvin is joining the growing list of musical elders trotting out anniversary concerts, offering a song-for-song acoustic replay of her 1989 Grammy-winning debut, “Steady On” at Nashville’s City Winery Thursday. When old friend and Music City legend Buddy Miller joined her onstage for an encore, he could have been speaking for everyone as we stood and applauded. “We’ve just witnessed a master class in songwriting AND guitar playing,” Miller said. We also saw an artist who was happy not just to take herself back to the early days of her career, when she wrote the songs, but to have a little fun with the earnest young artist that she was. “Here’s one you can dance to,” she said. Then, with a smile after a beat: “No you can’t. I defy you to dance to any of these songs.” We had the benefit of enjoying the songs somewhat anew, as my wife and I ‘discovered’ Colvin through her 1994 “Cover Girl” album. We listened to it over and over as we planned our wedding and worked on the first house we bought together. When she won a grammy double in 1998 - Record of the Year and Song of the Year for “Sunny Came Home” - we felt like we were old fans. But somehow we never wandered back to “Steady On," which took the Grammy for Best Contemporary Folk Album. So while many in the crowd cheered when they heard the first few notes of an old favorite - something that happened with every song - we experienced them anew, and were captivated. Colvin’s voice is still as strong as ever at 66. But what also emerged was her virtuosity on the acoustic guitar. While many singer-songwriters are solid chord strummers, Colvin plays with the complexity and percussiveness of, say, Joni Mitchell or Stephen Stills. This wasn’t clear (to me, at least), in her recordings, which were generally with a band. But in Thursdays show, she managed a rich, layered sound while standing alone with an acoustic guitar. She also had another treat for the crowd. As Buddy Miller finished his encore and walked off the stage, the crowd jumped to our feet as Emmylou Harris, with her unmistakable flowing gray mane, joined her for two songs. Colvin lived in Nashville briefly early in her career, and said she always likes to invite her “Nashville people” to join her onstage here. We didn’t mind.

So I caught my first Robert Earl Keen show, at the Ryman here in Nashville. Good thing too, since the legendary Texas songwriter is on his last tour. The road, apparently, does not go on forever. The party eventually ends. And party it was. The Robert Earl Keen experience lands somewhere between Townes Van Zandt and Jimmy Buffett; a masterful blend of songwriting skill, friendly banter, and the “it’s 5 o’clock somewhere” thirst for a never-ending good time. “There’s only one rule,” Keen told the 2,300 plus fans who filled the Ryman pews. “Have as much fun as possible.” Most in the audience were clearly there to do exactly that, and to say good-bye to an old friend. Keen is best known on the roots/Americana scene, though he draws fans from country and rock. He’s revered among songwriters and lovers of the craft for his honest, vivid portrayals of outlaw life as well as everyday pleasures. Adding to the fun of the evening was the fact that it was February, and we were watching a Christmas show. Covid forced the rescheduling of Keen’s Christmas show. So this was the make-good. This was perfect for me, as I came late to the Robert Earl Keen experience thanks to his holiday classic, “Merry Christmas From the Family.” You don’t hear it much in the usual radio rotation of holiday songs, unless you listen to, say, WMOT in Nashville, or XM Radio’s Outlaw Country. The song and honestly chronicles the boozy adventures of a down-home country Christmas. From the very first lines … “Mom got drunk and Dad got drunk/At our Christmas Party” … the entire audience was singing like they were in church, rising to a crescendo for the chorus: “Carve the turkey turn the ballgame on Mix bloody Mary’s, cause we all want one Send somebody to the Kwik Pak store We need some ice and an extension cord A can of bean dip and some Diet Rite A box of tampons, some Marlboro Lights. Hallelujah everybody say cheese Merry Christmas from the Fam-o-leeee” As much as I was there for that chestnut, however, what I really wanted to hear was another Keen classic, a decades-old song that perfectly captures the mood we all are having – or at least ready to have soon – as the Covid cloud lifts. “Feeling Good Again” follows a narrator as he returns to a favorite bar after a long absence. Maybe he is finally recovered from an illness. Or maybe, as Keen suggested at the show, he was strung out from the road. What matters is we feel along with him the sublime pleasure of reconnecting with the familiar as the stars align for a great evening, even if it is a basement bar in a dusty Texas town. “There was old man Perkins Sittin' on his stool Watchin' Butch and Jimmy John Talkin' loud and playin' pool The boys from Silver City Were standin' by the fire Singin' like they thought They were the Tabernacle choir And I wanted you to see them all I wished that you were there I looked across the room And saw you standin' on the stair And when I caught your eye I saw you break into a grin It feels so good feelin' good again” Keen shows are legendary for the rowdy sing-along style, which I knew from listening to any of his several live albums. The perfect venue for Keen is a large bar or theatre, or an outdoor festival. The Ryman worked too, and Keen offered a tribute to a town he – like all great songwriters, it seems – lived in for a while. “This town was very good to me,” he said of Nashville. What stood out, apart from the quality of his best songs, was his insistence on having fun. He and the band dressed entirely in white, somehow resembling singing snowmen. In keeping with the “road to Christmas” theme of the show, he asked each band member to pick a road song. Thus did we here (and sing along to) Roger Miller’s classic “King of the Road,” as well as the Allman Brothers’ “Ramblin’ Man.” There was even a bit of stageplay late in the evening, as someone – clearly planned – yelled out “Freebird!” “Really? Seriously?” Keen said. “Well okay then.” And he and the band ripped ripped into the Skynyrd classic. “That’s for all the people who yelled that at me over the years!” Keen said with a smile when the song ended. Keen has is own Freebird, of sorts, a show-stopper that everyone comes to hear. “The Road Goes on Forever” is a worthy addition to the genre of “outlaw-and-his-girlfriend-on-the-run” songs. And the crowd jumped to its feet when they heard the familiar first lines. “Sherry was a waitress at the only joint in town She had a reputation as a girl who'd been around Down Main Street after midnight with a brand new pack of cigs A fresh one hangin' from her lips and a beer between her legs She'd ride down to the river and meet with all her friends The road goes on forever and the party never ends” I’m not sure why it’s ending for Keen. But it is as of September 4th, the end of his current tour. I’m glad I got to see him.

There is a certain kind of brand new music that sounds like it’s always been there. We caught some of it at the Bluebird Café Sunday night, at a CD release party for Tammy Rogers and Thomm Jutz’ beautiful new collection, “Surely Will Be Singing.” The title track sounds like something that will be heard at bluegrass festivals and picking parties decades down the road. It also sounds like something that has been heard at bluegrass festivals and picking parties back down through the decades. And it makes you feel good. Rogers and Jutz are veterans on the Nashville music scene; she the co-founder and fiddler player for the Grammy Award-winning bluegrass band The SteelDrivers; he a prolific bluegrass songwriter who has toured in bands behind Mary Gauthier, Nanci Griffith and David Olney. They met in 2016 when they found themselves seated at the same table at a Nashville awards event. Jutz told the Bluebird crowd that they were both coming off solid years – including a Grammy win for Rogers – and bonded over their frustration at not being mentioned at the event. They agreed get together to write, and still do almost every week. The album, recorded and produced in Nashville and released on Mountain Fever Records, blends solid Bluegrass tunes like the aforementioned “Surely Will Be Singing,” “Long Gone” (the first single off the album) and “Mountain Angel,” with more reflective personal songs like “On Your Own” – which Rogers said she originally wrote with her teenage daughter in mind, only to realize she was also writing about herself – and “About Last Night.” The latter, a regretful love song in which the singer wonders if a relationship’s romantic turn was a mistake, “is definitely not an autobiographical song,” Jutz said. “Both Tammy’s husband and my wife are here tonight. So we’d be in quite a bit of trouble if it was.” Like any respectable Nashville offering, “Surely Will Be Singing” features solid musical chops. Jutz on guitar and Rogers on fiddle and mandolin are both accomplished players. They are backed by sought-after Nashville pros Mark Fain on the upright bass and Justin Moses on banjo and dobro. Moses has been named dobro player of the year three times by the International Bluegrass Music Association. Lynn Williams also played drums and percussion on two of the album tracks. Bluegrass fans will enjoy this album of fresh new offerings in the genre. I expect the broader Americana community will also embrace the well-crafted songs and clean, hand-made feel of the 12-cut collection.

Jason Isbell’s is a voice that commands attention, singing words and playing music that rewards the effort. It’s a gift to see an artist very firmly in his prime, backed by a powerful, tight, road-hot band. Throw in one of the best venues in the world – Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium – and you have the makings of a night we won’t soon forget. Isbell is still producing vital songs. But he can also lean on an impressive catalogue that goes back 20 years through his early work with the Drive-By Truckers. We came later to the Isbell bandwagon, jumping on in the last few years. It didn’t matter. We loved the songs we knew, and were happy to listen to the ones we didn’t. Isbell sits at the top of the Roots Americana scene, a singer-songwritery genre that somehow blends American country with dollops of whatever amount of gospel, soul, blues, bluegrass, or rock and roll each artist deems necessary. Take Isbell’s “24 Frames,” a hooky, power pop song that could have easily come out of Athens, Georgia in the mid-80s. You thought God was an architect, now you know He’s something like a pipe bomb ready to blow And everything you built it’s all for show, goes up in flames In 24 frames Isbell has a particular gift for serving pain and beauty on the same plate. “Dreamsicle” is a punch in the gut from the first verse, recalling childhood sadness and shame. But it surges into an archetypical American childhood memory in the chorus, delivered in Isbell’s strong, aching tenor - and backed Sunday night by thousands of audience members who could taste that melting treat. I guess we’re leaving town again We’re moving out and moving in Gotta break the news to all my friends But they won’t care They’ll just find another face To fall behind and take my place To run way out past second base And just stand there Dreamsicle on a summer night In a folding lawn chair Witch’s ring around the moon Better get home soon This was a show that carried a special weight for us, and not just because of the artists and the venue. We’d been looking forward to it for months, and thought we’d missed it. Our original tickets were for the Oct. 17 show, but that was the day Mary’s father died. We were grateful to be in Richmond, Indiana with him and the rest of her family, and barely gave the lost show another thought. Then came a week of grieving and funeral planning, followed by the funeral Saturday. We returned to Nashville late last evening and slept in Sunday. Here’s the thing: Isbell wasn’t just playing the Ryman on the 17th. It was one of an eight-night stand in Isbell’s hometown. I checked online and, sure enough, the last show was Sunday night. I quickly Stub-Hub and found a pair of seats for 88 bucks each. To say I’m glad I bought them would be an understatement. It's a pleasure to see a band as tight and strong as the Isbell and the 400 Unit, which features Jimbo Hart on bass; Chad Gamble on drums; Derry deBorja (formerly of Son Volt) on keyboards; and Sadler Vaden (formerly of Drivin’ and Cryin’) on guitar. And what can you say about the Ryman? At just over 2,300 capacity, it feels both big and small. We were near the back row in the balcony, and our seats were great. Hard not to look at the stage and not think of the history. We will, of course, be back again and again. Who: Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit When: October 24, 2021 Where: Ryman Auditorium, Nashville With: Mary Here is a Spotify playlist of Sunday night’s set list: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3lroA0PtprmtAoMlL4zsNM?si=yhVV3X85QAW4hL-_rufD7w

You know you are in the right place in East Nashville on a Monday night when the headliner keeps inviting guests to the stage, you’ve never heard of any of them, and each one is better than the next. To be clear, most of the younger, hipper folks in the crowd knew who the guests were. But we're new in town. We're still getting used to the fact that Nashville isn't just the home of big country music stars. It's a magnet for young talent from around the country. On any given night, a person who looks like they might have served you coffee earlier in the day - because they might have - can walk on stage and throw down a song that stops you in your tracks. Make no mistake, Kelsey Waldon, the headliner, is an established performer with solid recordings behind her and a bright career ahead. She was great - I especially liked "Kentucky, 1988" - and we want to hear more. But it was the aforementioned parade of talented guests who lifted our spirits with the excitement of musical discovery. I give myself credit for spotting this one in an email from Oh Boy Records – that’s the Oh Boy Records that John Prine founded in 1980. It still carries on after his death, with a roster of country and Americana artists like Waldon, a rootsy singer-songwriter who has been compared at different times to both Loretta Lynn and Tammy Wynette. She was the headliner at the Basement East Monday, backed by a tight, smoking, five-piece band. Tickets were only $15 bucks, with proceeds going to charity. "I think this could be good," I told my wife. "I mean, this is John Prine's record company." The evening was billed as “Home for the Holidays with Kelsey Waldon and Friends.” Waldon has talented friends. The list included John R. Miller and Chloe Edmonstone, Jeremy Ivey, Caroline Spence, Michaela Anne and Vickie Vaughn. Miller and Edmonstone served up a lovely rendition of “Christmas in Prison,” the John Prine classic. Ivey shared a grim but powerful take on the holidays from the perspective of Nashville's homeless. All the guests were great. But the strongest, to us, were Justin Hiltner and Kyshona Armstrong. Hiltner, I now know, is a sought-after banjo player based in Nashville. He’s also gay, and an outspoken advocate for greater inclusion in the bluegrass and roots/Americana community. After backing up Waldon on several songs, he stepped to the microphone for one of his own, which he told the crowd was the by-product of an unrequited crush. “It’s been hard,” he said. “But the songs have been sooo good.” He wasn’t kidding. “Pining Still,” was beautiful – a powerful lament over a lilting banjo. Late in the set Waldon brought up singers Maureen Murphy and Nickie Conley, as well as Armstrong, all of whom she said had been recording with her for a new album out next year. The new songs, which Waldon said were played for the first time in public Monday, were soulful and driving, the back-up vocals adding strength and depth. I think it was after a song called “You Can Never Tell” that my wife leaned over and uttered a phrase that’s no doubt been heard in Nashville music halls many times before. “That,” she said, “sounds like a hit.” Waldon then asked Armstrong to step to the center-stage microphone, which she did after picking up a guitar of her own. I now know that she began her career as a music therapist, and is building a name as a powerful voice for healing and social change with her music. What I knew then was that I was listening to some sort of amalgamation of Odetta and Joan Armatrading – a rich, soulful range, singing purposeful music. Both songs she played – “Nighttime Animal” and “Listen” – had the audience spellbound. Waldon’s band features Adam Duran on guitar, Alec Newman on bass, Ryan Connors on keyboards, Brett Ray Resnick on pedal steel, and Nate Felty on drums. Joining the group Monday evening was Christian Sedelmyer on fiddle. A highlight of the evening was a short set of harmony-rich bluegrass songs, including the Prine classic “Paradise,” with Waldon joined by Hiltner on banjo, Sedelmyer on fiddle, and Vaughn on stand-up bass.