by Mark Jordan
The notion of professionalism is a comforting if specious myth. We all like to think of our politicians, doctors, lawyers, teachers, police officers, even our journalists and musicians as geniuses, capable of pulling off feats in their respective fields that leave us in awe and saying, “Gee, I could never do that.”
The truth, however, is that we are all schmoes. Highly trained
schmoes, perhaps, but schmoes all the same. Despite appearances,
despite others’ confidence that we know what we are doing, ultimately
we all are just bumbling our way through, half improvising, failing
almost as often as succeeding.
PHOTO BY DANIEL BALL
Which brings us to this, our third annual music issue. In last year’s issue, we had a snappy theme – the business of making music in Memphis – that gave all our stories focus. This year, after much brain-racking, we couldn’t come up with any such common thread, or at least not one that sufficiently inspired us. (One indication of our frustration with the whole process is the fact that serious consideration was given to a “music sucks” theme, which would have decried the admittedly sorry state of contemporary music. But in the end, we realized that, though it may not matter like it once did, music does not, in fact, suck; burned out writers do, however.)
So, with no theme in mind, we proceeded to schedule a random sampling of music-related stories. Some were already in the works, others were stories we had been wanting to tell for a long time but never had the right opportunity (or excuse) to do so.
Once the stories started to come in, however, we began to notice common threads in some of the subjects covered – a pervasive feeling of loss, a tendency to look back in history, and a pattern of missed opportunities. In short, stories about schmoes.
For instance, there’s Matt Hank’s profile of musician Robert Johnson (page 16), not the Delta blues legend but an almost-Rolling Stone who nevertheless has enjoyed a long-if-unheralded career as a session musician and composer. In his article on the differences between the Nashville and Memphis music scenes (page 17), Mark Jordan looks at how one became a music industry town and the other didn’t. Phil Campbell explores Memphis’ newest Latino nightspot, Bronco’s (page 18), where recently transplanted Hispanics pay a hefty sum to get a little taste of the world they’ve left behind. In a survey of the history of the 100-year-old Memphis musicians’ union (page 20), Roy Brewer, who has written his doctoral dissertation on the professional life of musicians in the first half of this century, reveals a once vital organization whose best days seem, unfortunately, behind it. And in a critical essay on the state of movie soundtracks (page 22), Stephen Grimstead yearns for the days when films didn’t rely on pop-music soundtracks but on the interpretive skills of composers like Elmer Bernstein and Ennio Morricone.
And in retrospect, maybe those themes – loss, sentimentality, regret – are appropriate. In the 12 months since our last music issue, the Memphis music community has certainly suffered loss – concert promoter Bob Kelley, music educator Lulah Hedgeman, journalist Robert Palmer, and artists Carl Perkins, Junior Kimbrough, Jeff Buckley, Junior Wells, and Luther Allison among others.
In the same time span, record crowds turned out for the 20th anniversary of Elvis Presley’s death, construction finally got under way on the Gibson guitar plant/museum, and the city signed a contract to develop a Grammy museum, all of which point to the city’s increasing willingness to exploit its past to brighten its future.
And as for regret, well, regret requires hindsight. But in the future, who knows what we’ll make of the selling of a half-interest in Memphis-based regional distributor Select-o-Hits to Jackson, Mississippi-based Malaco Records, the folding of the Ardent label, or the eviction of 315 Beale Recording Studios.
If this all sounds a little morbid, we don’t mean it to be. In fact, each of these stories has elements of triumph about them, as artists struggle and succeed in finding their own place in the world, and as music – in all its shapes, through all its changes – proves itself to be a still-vital part of people’s lives.
In addition, our package of music stories is rounded out by four articles that deal with music’s present and future, including profiles of a trio of artists who will be playing at the Beale Street Music Festival and a piece by Jim Hanas on some of the great music that can be heard outside of Tom Lee Park this weekend.
And though we don’t touch on them in these pages, there are plenty of things in Memphis music’s future to be hopeful, even excited about: The newly formed music commission, the aforementioned Gibson plant and Grammy museum, and the continued success of the likes of Three 6 Mafia, Garrison Starr, and the Grifters.
But if the future of one of our greatest cultural assets is full of hope, then it is also full of uncertainty. So maybe a moment to look back is a good idea, just to see where we’ve been.
Meanwhile, our hope is that this year we’ve put together a package of stories that reveals a little something about the music of Memphis and the artists who make it. And at the very least, we’ve entertained for awhile. If however, we’ve done neither, remember: We’re just schmoes. n