Don't get me wrong now, I enjoyed the concert on November 16th, I'm just not so much a Country Aficionado that I can ignore the foibles. Our campground and the new Opry are 10 miles from Downtown Nashville and the Ryman where parking is extremely tight. Our bus was shoehorned into an alley with a score of other buses. Remembered Pat the driver from the last time I was here. I'm glad she was driving that monster. It didn't help that at every pickup spot someone was late. I walked over around 5:10 for a 5:30 pickup but the last couple arrived 5:35 even though the bus was early.
I had an aisle seat at the Ryman in the centre of the theatre but well under the balcony. No trouble seeing but as the gentleman behind me on the return trip complained the vocals were muffled and the sound in a venue designed for acoustic presentation was loud and somewhat distorted. The myth about being tall leading to success is emphatically borne out in Country Music. The preponderance of painfully tall men was quite apparent beginning with Eddie the stage announcer. A suit jacket on a six foot six beanpole just doesn't look right and those legs look like stilts. Bass was not a sponsor last night, replaced by the Country Music Hall of Fame. I swear they've cut down on the number and length of commercial breaks since I was there last.
There's no such thing as a unified approach to Country Music. The diversity is striking. I'm not a fan of the drawn-out wailing approach to gospel. But there's blue grass in which the banjo is prominent along with mandolin, western with its accordions and violins, country with it's wailing Hawaiian Guitars, and everything in between. Amongst all those towering giants Little Jimmy Dickens in his baby blue rhinestone encrusted suit looked like a tiny pixie and at 91 rasped his lines more than sang them. The job of the Host for each of the half hour segments is to cover for the stage crew as they set up for each act and they sing and crack old corny jokes that the audience seems to eat up and laugh at in response. There were a couple instrumental groups and then there was Charlie Daniels who could only be described as high decibel jazz fusion and closed out the show while he wrecked three bows on his rosin encrusted violin and declaimed rap-like 'lyrics' to a background of driving piano and guitar in syncopated rhythms. With twelve groups in two hours each has time to do little more than present one or two of their hits.
The costumes run the gamut from ten-gallon hats and string ties, boiler-man overalls, blue jeans tailored to fit like a second skin, and fancy suits with conservative ties. Rhinestones, sequins and embroidery are de rigueur. Only one female singer that night--Connie Smith dressed in black.
In case you didn't know it the Opry began as a radio network developed by Humana to shill their health care insurance. The local radio station's call sign stands for We Serve Millions, WSM 650. And the rest is history.
I had an aisle seat at the Ryman in the centre of the theatre but well under the balcony. No trouble seeing but as the gentleman behind me on the return trip complained the vocals were muffled and the sound in a venue designed for acoustic presentation was loud and somewhat distorted. The myth about being tall leading to success is emphatically borne out in Country Music. The preponderance of painfully tall men was quite apparent beginning with Eddie the stage announcer. A suit jacket on a six foot six beanpole just doesn't look right and those legs look like stilts. Bass was not a sponsor last night, replaced by the Country Music Hall of Fame. I swear they've cut down on the number and length of commercial breaks since I was there last.
There's no such thing as a unified approach to Country Music. The diversity is striking. I'm not a fan of the drawn-out wailing approach to gospel. But there's blue grass in which the banjo is prominent along with mandolin, western with its accordions and violins, country with it's wailing Hawaiian Guitars, and everything in between. Amongst all those towering giants Little Jimmy Dickens in his baby blue rhinestone encrusted suit looked like a tiny pixie and at 91 rasped his lines more than sang them. The job of the Host for each of the half hour segments is to cover for the stage crew as they set up for each act and they sing and crack old corny jokes that the audience seems to eat up and laugh at in response. There were a couple instrumental groups and then there was Charlie Daniels who could only be described as high decibel jazz fusion and closed out the show while he wrecked three bows on his rosin encrusted violin and declaimed rap-like 'lyrics' to a background of driving piano and guitar in syncopated rhythms. With twelve groups in two hours each has time to do little more than present one or two of their hits.
The costumes run the gamut from ten-gallon hats and string ties, boiler-man overalls, blue jeans tailored to fit like a second skin, and fancy suits with conservative ties. Rhinestones, sequins and embroidery are de rigueur. Only one female singer that night--Connie Smith dressed in black.
In case you didn't know it the Opry began as a radio network developed by Humana to shill their health care insurance. The local radio station's call sign stands for We Serve Millions, WSM 650. And the rest is history.
