Road Tripping With Tami

Well, we're all back in Savannah after a fun little strum-a-thon road trip up to Atlanta, DC and West Virginia.

Tami, Peyton and I took off for Atlanta over a week ago to visit family and play the open mic at Eddie's Attic in Decatur. That is surely one of the best songwriter venues in America. Much like The Bluebird Cafe, in Nashville, folks are there to hear songs, have a drink or two and not yap too much. The talent was exceptionally diverse that night featuring everything from bluegrass to the avant garde, which is very different from The Bluebird. If you're in the Atlanta area on a Monday night and have five bucks burning a hole in your pocket. you can't beat Eddie's for an evening of interesting music. Check 'em out.

Peyton continued the Atlanta experience with her grandparents while Tami and I loaded up The Green Machine and headed up to the Washington, DC, area for a little show there. We had a big old time; cruised over to Dupont Circle to one of our favorite book stores, Kramer Books, and ate lunch in a wonderful Greek joint called Zorba's. Later, at the gig, our friend, Tim Hughes, who used to work for The Secret Service, showed up with some pals and big laughter ensued. We're hoping to go back up there and play some of the beautiful wineries that abound around there.

The next morning I chased my own tail lights, winding through the mountains of both Virginias, to our next stop, an afternoon show at The Purple Fiddle in Thomas, West Virginia. This place is a must if you love homegrown music. Thomas is a hamlet, cradled by steep hills and filled with friendly hippies. Our kind of town! As I was unloading The Green Machine, I heard this Scottish voice ask me, "Hey, is there any good music around here?" I turned around and there stood our fabulous friends, David and Mary Ellen Leask, who had driven ten hours, all the way from Toronto, on a whim no less, just to hang out with us and see my little show. What a surprise and treat!

I first met David about seven years ago out in Calgary at the Canadian Country Music Awards and we've been pals and co-writers ever since. He and Mary Ellen have stayed with us in Nashville a number of times and it continues to be a joyous hoedown every time we see them. He is a very special singer/songwriter and they are both deep, soulful people.

Do yourself a favor and go to www.davidleask.com . He's so good.

But, now we're back in The Coastal Empire and we are digging it big time. Both oyster and Bulldog season are here! The jellyfish are gone and The Pirate Festival on Tybee is only weeks away. Peyton can't wait!

Also, we've started a little family travel blog about Savannah and we're having a ball with it! www.savannah-georgia-vibe-guide.com It's just in its infancy but we're adding stuff all the time. Check it out and let us know what you think!

Peach and love!!!

LET THE COWBOY RIDE: An Ode to Cowboy Jack Clement

I don't know why but Cowboy Jack Clement has been on my mind lately.

I made music in Nashville for a quarter century and one thing that I learned in Twang town was, "Never Meet Your Heroes". They do not live up to your fantasies...any of them. I met too many of those poor megalomaniacs but I never met Jack Clement and maybe that's why I've been thinking about him.

I don't know him...so I still want to.

Born in West Tennessee and raised in Arkansas, Clement found himself in Memphis in the 50's making records for Sam Phillips at Sun Records. He recorded Jerry Lee Lewis' "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On" in one take just as a last minute fluke then later wrote "Ballad Of A Teenage Queen" for Johnny Cash, produced the hit at Sun Studio then went on to be the best friend The Man In Black ever had. Discovered and produced Charley Pride...made millions from those records only to lose most of it producing a slasher movie from a script he is reported to have never read.

And, most importantly to me, he co-owned, arguably, the quintessential music publishing house in Nashville, Hall-Clement Music, which found, signed and nurtured such songwriting icons as Bob McDill and Dickey Lee plus scores of other Music City hit makers. In the 60's, 70's and 80's Tree Publishing and Hall-Clement Music shared about 75% of the hit songs coming from Nashville. Of course, he sold his share of that for a fraction of what it was worth.

For decades, his home studio, The Cowboy Arms Hotel And Recording Spa, has churned out piles of classic and wonderful records from folks like John Prine, Nanci Griffith and Townes Van Zandt. A nefarious clubhouse of sorts for everyone from Shawn Camp to Johnny Cash himself, until his passing in 2003, Cowboy's house is reportedly the zaniest crib on Belmont Boulevard and is loaded with great, vintage gear complete a deep, soulful vibe that comes at no extra charge. Tons of great music is still made and recorded there.

Recently, we moved eight hours away from Nashville, to the beach actually, because it was just time to go...Tofu Country had gotten me down. But, last week I remembered watching a video of home movies that Clement had put together; we had seen it at Ralph Murphy's house, a long time friend of Cowboy's. It featured rare gems like, oh, John Cash smoking…something…on A.P. Carter's grave. Stuff like that. Wonderful things, unseen previously...things that actually made me miss Nashville and what it could be. Organic screwing up and off. Magic conjured by outlaw pranksters. HUMOR.....supreme humor, composted in stoned conversation later to sprout up in three minute recorded masterpieces....or not.

So, we rented it on Netflix, "Shakespeare Was A Big George Jones Fan: Cowboy Jack Clement's Home Movies". I'm biased so I don't know if it's great or not but the film caused me to start thinking of Nashville again in a fresh, clear new light. And I realized something. I don't need to meet my heroes. In fact, I don't even want a hero. I just need to remember that I'm here to whip up some magic and music and the rest of it be damned. Have fun! It's my business to be me.

In the words of The Cowboy himself, "We're in the fun business. If we're not having fun then we're not doing our jobs."

Right on, Cowboy. Ride on.

Jefferson