Country on the Rocks

At this point in my life I’ve come to realize there are some things I’m better off doing without.  Like the metric system, ‘all things science,’ anything written by Fyodor Dostoyevsky and Cracker Jacks® (Spoiler alert: Diverticulitis takes all the fun out of peanuts and popcorn). 

A few others: Trail running, tents (camping, circus, revival—what they’re used for is irrelevant; I just have no use for tents), people who use ‘my bad’ in place of ‘I’m sorry’ and waiting in lines.

One more: Country music.

Don’t get me wrong.  In the early 1980’s I made an honest effort to like country music.  It was right after Urban Cowboy was released and long neck beer, cowboy boots and Mickey Gilley were all the rage.  Although I never bought myself a ten-gallon hat (Instant Fact: They fill up with water when it rains) I did make a few forays into Atlanta’s country music scene; namely Mama’s Country Showcase and West Texas Music Club, two country music bars that were doing quite well at the time.  Once I even spent eight seconds holding on for dear life on the back of one of those mechanical bulls, thanks to a potentially deadly combination of peer pressure, challenged manhood and liquid courage.  I held on for the full eight seconds, but I couldn’t scratch my nose with my own hands for three days afterwards.

In spite of those nights on the town trying to force myself to like country music, it just never ‘took.’ (I did, however like Always on My Mind by Willie Nelson.  Still do, in fact.  Catchy tune sung by that distinctive/haunting voice in a Neil Young kind of way).  The best word I can use to describe the sound of country music is…Scratch that thought.  Let me just say that for me country is the metric system of the music world; that way nobody gets their feelings hurt. 

So now that my quest to enjoy a wad of chewing tobacco, rope goats and feel comfortable in a pair of tight-fitting, boot-hugging blue jeans is nothing more than a distant (and by ‘distant’ I actually mean ‘traumatizing’) memory I did something I should have tried 30 years ago: I went to a country music concert. 

Let me explain.

Cindy was out of town when I found out the Zac Brown Band was playing a charity concert at the Southern Ground Amphitheater (one of our favorite venues for a concert) in Fayetteville, Georgia on October 30—a ‘Trick or Treat Tailgate’ concert for the first 1,500 who purchased tickets.  I gave Cindy a call and told her about it and she—without hesitation and despite the $100 charge for general admission ($200 for reserved seating) said she wanted to go.  Her friend Jan wanted tickets for her and her husband Chuck as well.

So why did Zac Brown become ‘the chosen one?’  Several reasons:

·      Cindy says she likes his music (‘It’s not really country,’ according to her). 

·      Cindy and I love eating at his restaurant in Senoia, the Southern Ground Social Club.  The food is absolutely amazing and the employees do a great job and seem to have a lot of fun.  And it shows.     

·      The proceeds for the concert were going to charity (and one we both support, Zac’s ‘passion project’ Camp Southern Ground.  His dream is ‘that children of all abilities will have an opportunity to experience the magic of the outdoors.’  The man has his head on straight, he does. 

·      Zac Brown is one of Cindy’s customers at her Branch and Vine store in Peachtree City, which is more than likely the reason she told me his music is ‘not really country.’

·      Cindy was sooo impressed with Zac and his family (wife and four daughters, each one a wee bit taller than the next) the first time they met. 

·      Cindy and Zac talked about selling her products (oil and vinegar) at the Southern Ground Social Club, and once he reads the rave review I’m about to write it will be a done deal (right, Zac?).

So on the eve of Halloween the four of us took our lawn chairs to Zac’s amphitheater where we dined on Zac’s food (his restaurant had a booth), listened to Zac and his band and contributed money towards Zac’s passion project (Zac should be having his attorneys draw up an agreement with Branch and Vine any second now).

The opening band was…well, let’s just say they played for about 45 minutes while we stood in line to order our food.  I can’t vouch for the quality of the band, but I can tell you my ears didn’t start bleeding so I took that as a good sign.

The Zac Brown Band took the stage around 8 p.m.  With the exception of our party of four, it seemed everyone else in the amphitheater knew the first couple of songs by heart.  They were all standing, singing and clapping while the four of us were sitting, shivering (the amphitheater is an outdoor venue, and the temperature was 48 degrees…and falling) and acclimating ourselves to the weather as well as the music of Zac Brown.  (I tried to condition myself a few days prior to the concert by listening to a couple of Zac’s music videos; as was the case 30 years ago, this particular experiment didn’t ‘take’ either.)

But then something amazing happened.  Zac talked about his early exposure to classic rock and one of his all-time favorite albums, Dark Side of the Moon, which led to his cover version of Comfortably Numb.  OK, now we’re on to something.

Next?  Metallica’s Enter Sandman.  The best part of the song was when five (five!) guitars were all wailing at the same time (and no I didn’t include you, Mister Fiddle Guy because I don’t even consider Charlie Daniels when I’m counting guitars) and I suddenly realized I was no longer chilly but rather about to break out in a sweat.  This band was bringing the heat!

A few more country songs followed (I took a breather and sat in my lawn chair)—one sounded sort of Boz Scaggs-ish that as far as I’m concerned is never a bad thing—before Zac’s version of the Marshall Tucker Band’s Can’t You See filled the cool October air.  The four of us were back on our feet, joining the other 1,496 in attendance. 

Then the finale, a song ‘written by a genius on so many levels’ as Zac said an instant before the first cords of Bohemian Rhapsody were struck.  Zac and his band ‘done good’ with Freddie Mercury’s opus, a long song that ended way too soon…at least as far as I was concerned.  I don’t think I was alone in that thought.

Zac ended the evening by thanking everyone for supporting the band and their music, the community and most importantly Camp Southern Ground.

Did you ever hear the phrase ‘expect the worse and hope for the best?’  Yeah, it was that kind of a night.  Especially for someone who wants the name of his music trivia team to be ‘No Country for Old Man.’

Cindy was right about Zac Brown: He’s a really good guy who believes in and tries to do all the right things.  That makes it easy to support him in his endeavors.  While I may not be rushing out to buy a Zac Brown CD anytime soon, I’ll continue to patronize his restaurant and look forward to the grand opening of his passion project.

As for the night, I can honestly say that it was the best country music concert I’ve ever attended. 

Swear to God.