A (Mostly) Musical Journey Across the Deep South - Part 1
I took a solo trip to see more of the United States and learn about its history and music. Here's what happened.
Thank you for spending part of your day with Michael’s Record Collection. The next few issues will deviate a bit from the normal format. I recently went on a five-day solo trip across the southern United States, where I dove into the musical past of a part of the country that impacted the recording industry around the world. Many of my activities were planned in advance. Some were spontaneous.
I hope you enjoy reading about these travels over the next couple of issues, and if not, please stick around for more album reviews and artist interviews coming soon.
The day is perfect. The sun is shining and the strains of Arlo Guthrie’s well-known cover version of Steve Goodman’s “The City of New Orleans” is blaring from the speakers of my Kia Soul. Its wheels devour the pavement of a southbound section of Interstate 55 in southern Mississippi known as the Bo Diddley Memorial Highway.
It is the fourth day of my trip, and I am headed to the Big Easy as I drive across the deep south, seeking solitude, peace of mind, and a better understanding of this section of the United States. The music, sunshine, and thrill of being in a new place hit me all at once, and the day is so perfect I nearly burst into happy tears. The entire playlist consists of songs about New Orleans or the state of Louisiana, by artists who called that city home, or both.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s go back to the start.
I don’t travel a lot, but as I age, I find myself compelled to see more of this beautiful, big, blue rock we inhabit. Call it wanderlust or curiosity, whatever it is, I’ve got it. Having spent time in just over half of these 50 oddly shaped chunks of dirt we call the United States — 28, to be exact — I set out to check a few more off the list of those I’ve visited.
However, I didn’t want to just drive through a state and call it a day. I wanted to have some kind of an experience in each place I visited. Whether it was visiting an attraction, spending a day exploring a city, or just stopping for a quality meal, I intended to do something in each state. That is, to me, more important than just collecting map coordinates one set at a time.
Being me, I planned the trip not only with a desire to learn more about the history of the area but also its musical history. I had a thirst to learn more about American music through several stops in Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana, with a brief side trip to Arkansas thrown in, just because I’d never been there either and was unsure of when I’d get back there after having experienced all of that state’s surrounding neighbors.
The music of the American south is a rich wellspring that gave life to musical culture and trends far beyond this nation’s borders. Notably, the roots of much of what became the jazz, blues, gospel, and folk that originated in the deep south long before there were 50 states still reverberates in what kids are listening to today. It informed the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, classic and modern funk and rhythm & blues, and certainly pop music through the ages.
My trip started on a Thursday with a long drive from my home near Orlando, Florida. Heading north on Interstate 75, I hung a left when I got to I-10 and traveled west across the Florida Panhandle. I blew past Tallahassee before bearing north/northwest and bisecting Alabama to the Florence-Muscle Shoals “Metropolitan Area.”
I was accompanied the entire way by a playlist made up of albums and singles recorded at two famous music studios I’d be visiting the next day. The trip took about 11 hours, including multiple stops for food, fuel, and bathroom breaks, and it took me through or near the cities of Troy, Montgomery, and Birmingham along the way. Arriving in “The Shoals” in the early evening, I checked into the Microtel Inn & Suites by Wyndham, an economy hotel with a nice staff and breakfast, although my experience was plagued with insect issues and walls/windows that allowed every noise from the nearby roadway to bleed through.
In my planning phase, I’d noted a local tavern in Florence, just across the Tennessee River, that had an interesting menu and a promising beer selection. The 10-minute drive was more than worthwhile, as the Wildwood Tavern delivered in spades, with excellent food and delicious craft beers on tap. They even provide beer and dinner pairings, although I ultimately went a la carte and selected the Bomb Pop Gose from Yellowhammer Brewing, a craft brewery in Huntsville, Alabama, and a Buffalo chicken flatbread. The food was excellent and the beer was tasty and went down easily.
As fate would have it, the first people I met in The Shoals were directly related to my reason for being there. I met Emily and Matt upon walking in the Wildwood Tavern’s front door and sat next to them at a long central table near the bar, enjoying their company for maybe an hour or so. When I told them I was there to tour the area’s two famous recording studios, Emily’s face lit up. She explained that she was close to the Hall family — FAME Recording Studio was founded by Rick Hall — through her best friend since middle school.
Emily told me she had spent many holidays and vacations with the family, and she was excited at the prospect of me meeting her friend’s grandmother, “Meemaw,” the late Hall’s widow, Linda. She texted them to let them know I was coming, although I did not see Meemaw at the studio the next morning. She may have been there, but I didn’t ask, because I didn’t want to impose. Matt is a drummer in heavy metal bands in the area and was bummed when he learned my next stop that night was Singin’ River Brewing nearby. Matt is a regular there and typically goes there before dinners at the Wildwood, but this was a night he and Emily had to pick up their young one after eating. He expressed his disappointment that he couldn’t accompany me to the brewery, and I assured him I wouldn’t dream of taking offense.
Singin’ River was dead that night, unfortunately, because it was a cool place. I walked in and found only the bartender and another guy at the bar, watching the NFL game on the television above the bar. It was the first night of the 2024 NFL season, and the Chiefs were battling the Ravens. The only other patron turned out to be an economics professor at the nearby University of North Alabama. He was vicariously living a multi-bet parlay a friend of his had laid down, and I was helping him cheer on every completion by Patrick Mahomes and each catch by Travis Kelce, hoping his friend’s bet would pay off big.
Both men gave me great advice and background about the area and welcomed me warmly. I’m shy around strangers by nature, so it was a testament to them both that we got to chatting. I had a flight of the brewery’s offerings, including a porter called The Swamper — a tribute to the studio musicians who helped make FAME’s reputation before spinning off to open their own Muscle Shoals Sound Studio in Sheffield.
The beer was good, but I needed a clear head in the morning (and for the drive back to the hotel, obviously), so I took it easy, took my time, had some water, watched most of the game, and returned to the Microtel.
Day 2: Muscle Shoals to Tupelo
Friday morning was a groggy one anyway, as I hadn’t slept well. I never do on my first night in a strange bed, and this was the first of several “first nights” on the trip. There was also a bug issue. Some kind of flying ant thing landed on my head just as I was about to doze off. I flipped on the light, found it, killed it, and then scoured the entire room to see if I had any other invaders to worry about, but I saw none. I failed to relax again the rest of the evening as a result of the intrusion. I eventually dozed off, but it wasn’t a restful sleep.
Upon waking, I took a brief walk to get some sunshine and fresh air, then returned to pack my stuff, enjoy a surprisingly good complimentary breakfast, and check out of the hotel. I made the five-minute drive to FAME Studio, got there 25 minutes too early, and hung around until the first tour started. After a brief video presentation, the tour of the studio began. Jordan was an excellent guide, spinning the tale of the studio’s history, construction additions, and some of the recording sessions that changed American music.
Things took off for FAME with one of the first recordings — Arthur Alexander’s “You Better Move On,” which was recorded three years later by the Rolling Stones.
Aretha Franklin’s breakout album started at FAME and ended elsewhere after just one day of recording. Her then-husband took exception to the familiarity with which a local horn player was addressing Aretha. Rick Hall tried to patch things up, but alcohol was involved, and things escalated. Aretha left Muscle Shoals but had already cut two songs, including the hit, “I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You).” Atlantic Records Vice President Jerry Wexler flew the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section (later known as The Swampers) to New York City to complete the album, which produced iconic songs like “Respect” and “Do Right Woman, Do Right Man.”
The FAME tour included stories about Duane Allman, Wilson Pickett, Little Richard, Etta James, Bobbie Gentry, Candi Staton, Clarence Carter, and many others. That little studio in Muscle Shoals produced some of the greatest music in rock, soul, country, and R&B. The tour lasted about an hour, although a “Backstage Pass” version of the tour continued for another half hour or so, including a visit to Hall’s office upstairs. However, I had a full itinerary to get to, so I made a few purchases in the gift shop and headed over to the small, nondescript building that is Muscle Shoals Sound Studios in nearby Sheffield.
Terrell was the name I thought I heard from the tour guide at Muscle Shoals Sound Studios. I apologize if that’s incorrect, but the tour group was chatty as we were getting started. He showed us the porch-like area out back, where artists would listen to the playback of their recordings because “outside everything was in mono.” Then we went downstairs among the gold and platinum records on the wall to see the lounge area, where artists engaged in, ahem…recreational activities. The area includes a bar area that was typically staffed by local off-duty law enforcement officers who wanted to meet rock stars and were willing to overlook the fact that the area was supposed to be dry at the time.
The Swampers started their own studio with some help from Wexler of Atlantic Records rather than sign a contract with Hall that was perhaps not in their best interest. The split was acrimonious for a long time, as Hall took it personally, but both studios continued to record hit records.
Muscle Shoals Sound’s first client was Cher, but her album, which was named 3614 Jackson Highway (the studio’s street address) was a flop. The studio then invested a lot of time in developing a little-known band from Jacksonville, Florida called Lynyrd Skynyrd. Several songs were recorded there, including one called “Free Bird,” which was a song the band was struggling with until roadie Billy Powell, who was a classically trained pianist, developed an intro for it while the band was at lunch. Ultimately, Lynyrd Skynyrd had to build its reputation on the road to get a record deal and ended up cutting those songs elsewhere, but the tracks at Muscle Shoals Sound Studios were eventually released.
Over the years, and very much like FAME, Muscle Shoals Sound hosted rock and country royalty. Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson, Paul Simon, Bob Seger, Rod Stewart, Linda Ronstadt, and Cat Stevens recorded there. The Rolling Stones recorded Brown Sugar there, went out to eat, and while they were out, R.B. Greaves came in and recorded “Take a Letter, Maria,” giving the studio back-to-back recordings of top five hits in consecutive sessions.
Both recording studio tours were excellent, laid back, and invited questions. I felt like I was in church. You could feel the echoes of music history still reverberating off the walls in both places. It was an excellent start to the day, but it was just the beginning.
I had two more stops in mind in the Muscle Shoals area, but only ended up making one of them, worried that I might not make my final stop of the day more than an hour’s drive away. My final stop in The Shoals was in Tuscumbia at the Alabama Music Hall of Fame. I took a leisurely stroll through the unassuming white building, checking out exhibits dedicated to musicians and music industry builders who were either born in Alabama or lived a significant portion of their lives there.
Country group Alabama’s old tour bus was one of the highlights, but there were exhibits touting Lionel Richie and the Commodores, Percy Sledge (from nearby Leighton, Alabama), Wilson Pickett, Rick Hall, Nat “King” Cole, Hank Williams, Sun Records founder Sam Phillips, Sonny James, Tammy Wynette, Martha Reeves, the Temptations, Bobby Goldsboro, Jim Nabors, Clarence Carter, Emmylou Harris, Styx guitarist Tommy Shaw, and Candi Staton.
Following the stop at the Alabama Music Hall of Fame, I jumped in my car and headed east to my second new state of the trip — Mississippi. A little over an hour later, I emerged in Tupelo, where I located my destination and then headed downtown to find a place to eat. I hadn’t done any research, thinking I would probably eat lunch in Muscle Shoals, but I had failed to remember the place Matt had told me had the best burgers in the area, and I just wanted to make sure I arrived before my next attraction closed.
I found a place on Main Street called Mugshots, which was set up as kind of a sports bar-type place, and I fueled up on a Caitlin’s Cajun — a grilled chicken sandwich with bacon and cheese that wasn’t as spicy as I’d hoped (but delicious!) and beer-batter fries. Then I drove to my next stop: the Elvis Presley Birthplace and Museum.
The modest row house where the King of Rock and Roll was born was preserved as well as possible, although some wallpaper from after the Presleys had moved adorned the walls and the museum added electric lights. The house did not have power in Elvis’ day, nor did it have indoor plumbing. The family used an outhouse. Elvis lived his first few years in this world in that house before he and his mother were evicted, as his father was in prison for check forgery at the time.
The staff was friendly and knowledgeable inside the house. The museum was fascinating, and there was plenty to explore around the grounds. I did not get to see Elvis’ childhood church, which was booked that day, but it was interesting to learn about the humble beginnings of a man who would become this country’s biggest pop star and cultural icon.
After touring the Elvis Presley site, I checked into the SureStay Hotel by Best Western and waited for Bruce, my old college roommate, to arrive from Memphis. He and I had a great dinner down the street from the hotel at a bar and grill called the Blue Canoe, where I tried the soft-shell crab sandwich and multiple craft brews from Mississippi, while Bruce enjoyed the birria grilled cheese. Bruce and I were looking forward to some live music, and the Luke Smith Band was there to provide it. The musicianship was on point, but neither of us were big fans of the vocals, and we weren’t terribly surprised to see the place empty out over the next half hour or so. The music was also more country and country rock than the blues we were hoping for, but we gave it a shot.
Last call was somewhere around 12:30, and the good people of Tupelo had already rolled up the sidewalks before we headed back to the hotel. Even the gas stations/convenience stores were closed, which is not something I’m used to seeing in Orlando, where most operate 24/7.
The SureStay was another budget hotel, but it was much more comfortable than my previous lodgings in Muscle Shoals, although the breakfast didn’t offer quite as many options. I settled for some buttered toast, pastries, and a strawberry yogurt, bid goodbye to Bruce, and headed out on Day 3 of my trip.
But that’s a tale for the next issue.