It's A Community Thing... | Music City Unsigned Blog

Recently Music City Unsigned made me their first featured artist on "Beyond Music City," a new section highlighting songwriters from other parts of the country and globe. After thanking him profusely, I asked Johnny T how else I could slowly take over every corner of his fine website.

He invited me to blog. So, as of today I'm MCU's first beyond-Nashville blogger.

In my first post: some thoughts on another fine musical town, my adopted hometown of Portland, OR, which, while a smaller market, has a lot on common with Nashville, and which has driven home to me the importance of community in making good music.

It's a Community Thing

Chances are you know someone who has packed up everything they own - maybe not much beyond their guitar - and pointed the car for Nashville. Maybe you did it yourself.

Or as Billy Joel put it about Los Angeles: "Got a call from an old friend, we used to be real close/ Said he couldn't go on the American Way/ Closed the shop, sold the house, bought a ticket to the West Coast/ Now he gives them a stand-up routine in L.A."

(What? I like Billy Joel. Is that a crime? Don't tempt me to reference Billy Joel lyrics every time I post.)

Nashville and Portland, Oregon have that in common: People roll the dice on it. They want to play music in a vibrant community, they want to write songs first, market them second. I know because I rolled the dice on Portland myself.

Picture it: Spring 2004. St. Louis, MO. The birds are singing. The bees are buzzing. The Ohio Secretary of State's office is busy plotting how to steal the November election by hacking touch-screen voting machines... oops, wait, this is not my political blog. Anyway - my wife and I find ourselves with choices. Her profession could have taken her anywhere in the States at that time. And I, having found that a two years' helping of grad school in ecology didn't agree with me, wanted to play music. I had always played, but never full-time, never laid it on the line. I was finishing my first album, It's Love It's Love It's Love, long-distance-style with producer Ross Leitner in L.A., but I wasn't ready to make the leap to Southern Cal.

Why? I have an acquaintance who's managed a number of national acts, and one of those acts likes to say, "It's important to have a life worth singing about." I agree. I'm a lifestyle guy. I value the outdoors and a slower pace of life. A musical community I can navigate, see the boundaries of, build a network of nurturing relationships in - but which is still big enough to open roads to larger success.

If I'd been convinced that LA or New York were simply the best options for making a go of it musically, I would have pushed for them. But I wasn't.

There was another option that was calling, one with a vibrant and growing music scene, a progressively-minded populace and gobs of the outdoors: Portland, OR.

Now understand - I didn't know for sure that Portland had any real music scene. I was really going on gut. It seemed like the kind of DIY burg where original, rich music was popping out in all sorts of genres. But I wondered: did it have enough venues? Were there enough acts playing to support a vibrant scene? Was it a just a podunk town disguised as the next Austin? Would my musical vibe fly there?

(I know what you're thinking: why not Nashville? Not far from St. Louis, now, is it? And a much more established music industry town. I'll give you two simple, if maybe silly, reasons: I just didn't know enough about it. And in my less mature mind, I thought I would be swamped out by all the great talent there. Today I feel Nashville also would have made a great fit for what I do, and I look forward to chances to visit, tour and build new relationships there.)

I lucked out. Or my musical muse was watching over me. Portland proves to be a musical playground. Big enough to manage, small enough to know most performers and make great, lasting relationships. A good number of venues (although we could use more rooms between 100-200 seats). Knowledgeable promoters, a fantastic for-profit radio station in 101.9 KINK-FM that really supports local talent, and a population that loves to come out for music. Shows are well-attended in this town every night of the week.

Portland has spawned nationally successful acts recently - the Shins, the Decemberists, M. Ward, Storm Large (remember the tall gorgeous blonde from "Rock Star" with Tommy Lee last year?) and now the lead singer of Spoon, Britt Daniel, calls Portland home - but it hasn't exploded in a Seattle-y gush of grungemania. It's still a big small town, where the modestly famous can rub elbows with the barely known.

Most surprising and most welcome, though, is the spirit of collaboration among musicians. The genuine community.

My first week here, I went to the bank. Behind the counter was a short, ruddy-cheeked, friendly guy whose nametag said, "Chris, East Greenwich, RI." This was a strange and wondrous thing for three reasons: 1) How many banks have employees list hometown on their nametags?; 2) How many people from Rhode Island really live in Oregon (answer: count 'em on your hand); and 3) I went to school and lived in Providence, RI. I know East Greenwich. I know where to go for brunch there. Chris and I were fast friends.

Turns out Chris is Chris Robley, a musical mad scientist, skillful songwriter and growing force for prog-pop good (evil?) in Portland and now beyond. (You head it here first - someday we will all be calling him Generalissimo.) Chris introduced me to a rogue's gallery of fine musicians, including Rob Stroup, who would become the producer of my new album Truce, and Rachel Taylor Brown, who with Chris and me created the subversive Bastard Son of Songwriter Showcase. (Instead of songwriters in the round, we played each other's songs as a trio, in rotation. Like a band or something. Daring baby!)

I trace most of my musical roots in this town to his acts of kindness - which were followed by more acts of kindness, knowledge-sharing and community from more musicians than I can name.

This is a generalization, of course; not everybody is Julie Andrews around here. But to me, music is inherently a community act; we can't make our work, not really, without that audience. And we can't make it without our fellow musicians. When we help each other rather than compete for light and space, the rising tide lifts all ships. And I'm finding there's room for everyone at every level.Portland has reinforced my belief that community - among musicians as well as among listeners - is bread and butter to what we do. It nourishes our souls, and thus, our music.

I don't know much about what Nashville is truly like, and I look forward to finding out. But my first blog blast to Nashville from this mountainous, riverside, bike-crazy, recycling-crazy, Obama-crazy, green, friendly and musical outpost of the Left Coast is simply an ode to its secret: It's a cradle of great music.

Come see us sometime. And bring your bands - we'll share a show with ya.

Justin Jude preaches his own brand of folk-rock gospel from stages in Portland and the Northwest. He was named "Oregon's Best Singer-Songwriter 2007" at the Bite of Oregon festival and a Finalist for Portland Songwriter of the Year 2007. He freely admits to liking Billy Joel. Find him at www.justinjude.com. Write him at justin@justinjude.com.

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