Blues/Country Troubadour Afton Wolfe Shares Daily AmericanaFest Journal

Ironically, one of the best things about AmericanaFest, the week-long debate about what “Americana” means peppered with fantastic artists that don’t fit any of the proffered definitions, is the foreigners. The European, British, and Australian contingents are staples at AmericanaFest, and they bring an enthusiasm and appreciation that really helps reinvigorate my jaded Nashville soul, giving a reminder of why I pursue connecting through Music. They also drink and party at an inspiring clip, even for our “drinking town with a Music problem.” So, after it being canceled in 2020 and being a more regional affair last year, with travel restricted, it really did feel more like AmericanaFest with all the non-Americans finally back. 

My activity calendar began on Tuesday. After a meet-up with my friends, I went to see Brian Wright and others hosting and performing Shine a Light: a Tribute to the Rolling Stones and Exile on Main Street. It was a high-energy show with a ton of great musicians, the most memorable performance for me being that of Chris Pierce who sang “Shine a Light” and burned the roof down with his harmonica playing. 

Already a little fuzzy after just one night, Wednesday would offer no respite. After a good deal of hydrating, I met up with some people at the BMI rooftop. It was an overcorrection of people getting to hug and talk and catch up, but my fellow Mississippian Christone “Kingfish” Ingram cut through all of it with his soulful, pure blues. After that, I wandered off for a bit while the awards were going on, then I was whisked away in an Uber to The Optimist, where Concord was having their schmancy industry party. I didn’t have schmancy credentials to enter, but fortunately, I had a lot of friends standing near the entrance, and my Daisy May Hat Co. Magic Hat impressed upon the gatekeepers my importance and gravitas. So I entered. I saw Bella White, and she was fantastic. Also fantastic was the oyster bar and peel-and-eat shrimp just sitting out there for anyone to take. (?!) And, while I was watching the mesmerizing Caroline Spence, some dude walked by with a tray of (I kid you not) Frosty and French Fries in little ramekins. I indulged. 

After the Optimist, and my unexpected dessert at 5th & Taylor, I found my way to Dee’s Country Cocktail Lounge in Madison, Tennessee. My friend Jon Latham was having a party at Dee’s, and he invited me to jump on stage and sing with him and the Lifers. You don’t say no to Latham; the guy’s a force of nature and one of the sweetest people and best performers you’ll know. I covered Tom Waits’ “Sins of My Father” with the guys, and then Van Darien jumped up there with us and played PJ Harvey to my Mark Lanegan for a rendition of the latter’s anthemic “Hit the City.” Then, with all intentions of getting home and resting up for Thursday, the night raged on, and I arrived home at around 2:30 am. Dee’s is a great place, but it’s hard to leave sometimes.

Having promised to arrive Thursday morning to a day party my friend and publicity specialist, 18//88 Media, was throwing along with Kevin Daniel, Yazoo Brewing, Arnold’s Country Kitchen, Twangville, Music Mecca, and The California Country Show; I arrived only a few minutes later than I had sworn to. The day party, titled “Interstate 88,” took place at the legendary meat-and-3, Arnold’s Country Kitchen. The lineup was spectacular, highlighted by Sam Robbins hypnotizing the usual Arnold’s lunch crowd, some of whom were obviously not prepared for the live music experience but nonetheless entranced by Robbins’ sweet voice and engaging charm. 

Brian Wright put on a storytelling clinic, Amy Speace was brilliant, Coral Moons and Tory Silver both brought some excellent rock (even if questionable “Americana”), and Alisa Amador got what I can only assume was the first standing ovation at Arnold’s Country Kitchen, unless the occasional “Prime Rib Day” there counts. But, to me, the most memorable performance of the day (other than mine) was that of Marina Rocks. She walks up on stage, looking like someone’s aunt, and proceeds to set the entire place on fire with an intense guitar style I can only describe as somewhere on the best side of a combination of Lindsay Buckingham and Taj Mahal. I could write a novela just about her set, but do yourself a favor and find her and listen to her and experience her live performance. 

Friday, I slept in, and then I had some errands to run, including getting a new set of shocks for my car, grocery shopping, making a new batch of cold brew, and mailing some parcels related to one of my other identities, decidedly unopinionated about the definition of Americana. Determined to stay relatively sober and get home and to bed at a decent time, I probably shouldn’t have waited until 4 pm to get started. But that’s what I did, heading to the Underdog for Femme Noir, a reignited concert series featuring the darkest, coolest female artists in my Nashville. Anana Kaye, Laura Rabell, Kristen Englenz, and India Ramey all put on beautiful sets. I missed those that followed (after reluctantly agreeing that I couldn’t be in more than one place at once.

I went to the new venue Riverside Revival for the YepRoc 25th anniversary party – the thinking being that this was close to my house, and the great Tommy McLain would be playing to close out the show. McLain is the favorite songwriter of some of my favorite songwriters. He’s a legend in South Mississippi and Louisiana, but I’d never seen him. I remedied that after having some pork katsu, dumplings, and beer across the street at Babo with my dear friend Patrick Clifford, who I met at AmericanaFest 5 years ago. 

McLain was brilliant, but I met troublemakers at the show, who I will not call out by name this time. Suffice it to say that, again against my will, I ended up at the Basement East for a tribute to 1972, where I again saw Amy Speace and Jon Latham (complete with David Bowie facepaint) and other cool folks, with whom I apparently ended up at Duke’s, tipping DJ Dad Rock Heath Haynes the entire contents of my wallet to play Bandwagonesque by Teenage Fanclub. And apparently, he obliged. This is what I was told on Saturday. 

Speaking of Saturday, I awoke at some point somewhere and made my way to The Basement East again. Not only was Café Rooster Records hosting their day party – announcing their much-needed return to the musical ecosphere in Nashville, but I had also left a credit card behind. Birds and stones and such. I saw Dee Oh Gee open it up with more rock than my little brain could process, but patently amazing – not only their music which rocks sincerely but with their energy at that hour and that point of the festivities. Garrison Starr settled me down afterward with her emotional and vulnerable brand of Southern soul music. I couldn’t stay for The Minks (who everyone rightfully raved about) or Joe Purdy (whose music I have come to obsession about recently). 

Saturday night, I posted up at The Bowery Vault on Gallatin Road. It was the celebration of my friend Brett Ryan Stewart and his wife Rosemary’s record label Wirebird Records. Rosemary is expecting, so they weren’t able to be there in person, but Jason Erie, Anana Kaye and the rest of their friends made the party a success. If you haven’t seen music at The Bowery Vault yet, do yourself a favor. It’s incredible. Describing it seems futile. But, my set was to be around 7:30, so I watched a slew of folks including Anana Kaye again (gratefully – she’s playing a lot of songs that her and her husband Irakli Gabriel wrote with the late legend David Olney, so…. It’s important stuff), John Dennis, Jason Erie, Stuffy Shmitt, Julie Christensen, and Van Darien (not being PJ Harvey, but rather being the wonderful Van Darien she is). 

After leaving there, I went and saw my buddies Cordovas close out the official stuff at 11pm at The Basement (that’s the OG Basement on 8th, as opposed to the Beast or Basement East on Woodland). The show was fantastic, and the guys were on fire like I’ve never seen, even if the ending had a Sopranos vibe to it that was no fault of the band’s. I won’t discuss it further, but it was weird, especially for a place like the OG. I wish I could say I went home after that, but I didn’t. I went back to Dee’s, where my dude Seth Fox (a utility musician who often plays saxophone, clarinet, flute, guitar, and other noisemakers with me, and with whom I wrote “So Purple”) was playing with one of his hundreds of projects. This one, the Friday Night Funk Band, is a straight-up large party band, covering everything from Rage Against the Machine and Britney Spears. It was a great palate cleanser that NEVER asked to be identified as Americana, even though everything they did was as Americana as anything most did. If that makes sense. I hope it doesn’t. 

Sunday. I’d never made it Sunday at AmericanaFest. But I was obligated (and honored) to play the Magnolia Roads/Desert Valley House Concerts chill hoedown at Yazoo Brewery in Madison. I did it, and it was so much fun. I played a round with Mehuman and Erin O’Dowd. I haven’t played a writer’s round in years, and the venue was kid and dog friendly. So, my nieces got to come to see me. That was a treat. 

So, that’s my wrap-up of AmericanaFest. I didn’t really go into my performances much, but in the 4 appearances I made, I took them all very sincerely and had a great time, and hope that I was able to connect with some people for the first or hundredth time. Come and see me next year. I’ll be here and around. 

Follow Afton Wolfe here and check out the potent “Cemetary Blues” below.  Wolfe has a Nashville show on Oct 15 at Dee’s Country Cocktail Lounge (w/ Adrian+Meredith) https://deeslounge.com/event/nietzsches-birthday-party-with-afton-wolfe-adrian-meredith-and-shadwick-wilde. This show will be celebrating Friedrich Nietzsche’s birthday and most probably are going to give $50 to the person with the best moustache!

Wolfe will be releasing his new single “Truck Drivin Man” out this Friday.

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