Music and the Deeper South: Tennessee, Mississippi, Louisiana

Joy and I love music.

A person's attitude toward music tells me a lot about them. Well, maybe that's too broad. But what I can say is that if a person values music as much I do, it can be a very reliable and potent way for me to connect with that person.

One of the things I like about Joy is that we value music differently - or maybe it's better to say we assign different levels of priority to different elements of music. But just the fact that we can easily talk for hours about music - the things we look for in songs, the way we connect to different artists and genres, the divergences and overlaps in our tastes, preferences, and ways of enjoying music - makes traveling with her enjoyable in itself.

After all, music is a pretty integral part of any good road trip - and music is a major theme of this road trip in particular.

We went to Nashville because it's a music town. We drove like hell to get there, crashed at Joy's very gracious aunt's house, and had a nice brunch there with her hilarious and lovely cousin. While we didn't get to explore the more musical aspects of Nashville, I found the parts of it we did get to see charming, pretty, and interesting. Flood damage is still evident in places, but it was good to hear from Joy's cousin that volunteerism was rampant in the city after the flood, and that the recovery seems to be going well (though people apparently get understandably twitchy when they see rain in the weather forecast).

From Nashville, we went to Memphis, where we took a little walk on Beale street, which was just a great little place. Live music seemed to be coming from everywhere, a beautiful noise swelling and rolling into the street, alive and spilling into every corner of the experience. The music seeped into the cracks of the place, cemented it together. It was palpable, and it was genuine. What might have seemed gimmicky in some other context, in some other place, was very real and a true pleasure in this corner of the world.

On top of that, at a place on Beale Street called Pig, we got truly amazing - I mean insanely succulent, flavorful, perfect - barbecue. Man, pulled pork is a gift from a higher power, I am convinced of this. Also, sweet tea and corn on the cob and the best onion rings I've ever had, and pecan pie. (The restaurant was aptly named!)

After nomming at Pig, we took a rogue trip to Graceland, which was already closed for the night. Fortunately, the area surrounding Elvis' former home is always there, and we got to see the strange and slowly fading phenomenon of Elvis worship. The folks walking around were predictably older, and there were few enough of them, though they were still there. I didn't know about or expect the wall covered with messages to Elvis, declarations of love for him and for partners/boyfriends/girlfriends/whomever.

Mississippi was beset by bored cops (we saw ten cars with cherries flashing stopped by the side of the road, where a lone black man was handcuffed, sitting on the ground, looking resignedly put out), heavy rain (I had to pull over and let Joy drive), and amazing lightning storms. In general, Mississippi was really empty and didn't seem to have much going on, which was kind of creepy. We drove fast and faster, and after about six hours (about 2:00 AM), arrived at our hotel in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

So now we're in our very pretty, nice-smelling hotel room, sleepy and comfy, each of us on our computers. Tomorrow morning, we sleep till we feel like it, get some breakfast, and explore NOLA a little.

Sweet.