In this week’s cover story, Memphis Flyer music editor Alex Greene takes readers on a tour of producer Matt Ross-Spang’s soon-to-open recording studio, Southern Grooves. Since Ross-Spang is a student of local recording history, references to older, more storied studios abound. But don’t take my word for it — flip to page 12 and see for yourself.
Sentimental as I can be, this week’s story sent me on a trip down memory lane. Until recently (say March 2020 or thereabouts), I could often be found in one of Memphis’ recording studios or music venues. I never ascended to the ranks of the Memphis musical elite, but playing music was a big part of my life nonetheless. It gave me a creative outlet, a way to blow off steam, and a reason to get together with friends; it even made me a little money from time to time. Music never paid all my bills, but it sometimes took care of the Memphis Light, Gas & Water payment — or, like a snake eating its own tail, paid for more studio time.
I don’t think there’s any chance that I’ll ever get a star on Beale Street, but I’ve written and recorded a couple dozen songs — two of which I think are genuinely something to be proud of. It was a small contribution, but in my own way, I added a little thread to the tapestry of Memphis music. And when one of my bands played out-of-town gigs, we did our best to be admirable amateur ambassadors from the Bluff City.
Now it looks like those days are behind me. I’m sure I’ll continue to play and write, and there might be the odd performance or recording session. But I don’t really see myself using vacation time to tour the South in the sweltering summer in a van of questionable reliability. I don’t want to sleep on out-of-town friends’ floors or share a bed with all of my bandmates — and the dog of the house, too. Twelve-hour recording sessions seem more grueling these days. I’ll leave all that to the pros.
Still, I can’t imagine a feeling quite like surfing the wave of a close-knit rhythm section, plucking out a guitar solo before the band hits a half-beat pause together, then crashes into the crescendo in sync. Or switching from 4/4 time to compound measure all together. It’s euphoric, and studies have shown that this is more than just romanticized talk — musicians’ brain waves sync up mid-performance. But to be that together on stage in the moment demands a fair amount of rehearsal time in advance — at least for a musician of my middling caliber — and these days I think I’d rather make up silly songs with my nephew. We’re currently working on one about flying away, though I’m not certain of the destination or mode of flight. I can’t be entirely sure, but context clues and his general interests lead me to believe it’s about pterodactyls. He doesn’t get my Dinosaur Jr. references, but that’s okay. It keeps me humble.
What’s my point, you might ask. Namely, I think, that too much concern is placed these days on the tangible worth of a thing. Will I ever be counted among Memphis’ musical legends? Heck no! W.C. Handy changed the entire world when he notated the blues. Whether you credit Ike Turner’s “Rocket 88” or Elvis Presley’s take on “That’s Alright, Mama,” rock-and-roll has some of its earliest roots in Memphis soil. And from “Green Onions” to Al Green’s entire catalogue to Unapologetic artists getting songs placed in high-profile ads and Netflix shows, Memphis music is still out in the world in a big way. Not to mention Goner Records! I don’t have to hang with the greats, but, even as a Z-lister, I got to be a part of something. If I had worried about being profitable or the best — or any good at all — I would have missed out on so much.
More important, to me at least, is that I got to create something with other people. One of my close friends designed the cover for one of my EPs, and my band wrote and performed the score for another friend’s short film. Music gave me an excuse to make art (or at least noise) with people I admire, and those memories are nothing short of priceless.
So, to the folks who listened, thank you. To the musicians making a real go of it, I’ll see you out there. I can’t wait.