This was not my first visit to Nashville, but it was my first time attending Americanafest. My friend and coworker and fellow musician (and awesome podcaster) Dan and I went this year to promote Pandora AMP. Dan had previously participated in Americanafest. But my history with the genre had me sort of lamenting that I should’ve started attending a long time ago. Back in the mid 1990s, my first job out of college was with The Gavin Report, a now defunct music trade magazine. I worked my way up to Associate Editor for Rob Bleetstein. If his name sounds familiar, it’s probably because he’s the voice of Pearl Jam Radio on SiriusXM. But back then, Rob was the very first person to chart Americana radio singles. This was 14 years before Billboard published their first Americana chart. Needless to say, he introduced me to a genre of music that changed my life – for the past three decades, I’ve been playing/recording/touring in twangy rock bands and writing about the genre. So yeah…I finally made it to Americanafest this year. Better late than never.
Our AMP booth at Americanafest was a hit, attracting industry pros and artists alike at the Embassy Suites hotel. We connected with familiar faces and new talent, signing up excited artists and receiving generous feedback about Pandora AMP. As creators ourselves, it’s always a rewarding feeling to connect with other musicians at these events and show them that our free suite of creator tools was made by artists for artists. Another highlight was participating in a speed-dating style Mentor Session, further nurturing our connection with the music community.
Of course, the best part of Americanafest was the week-long celebrations of live music. Every early evening, following our AMP booth duties, Dan and I hit the clubs and venues to check out some shows. We christened our voyage with Cooper Kenward at Dee's Country Cocktail Lounge. More rock than twang, I loved how his songs reminded me of Jeff Tweedy’s songs in Uncle Tupelo, before he formed Wilco. And as a lifelong skateboarder, I especially appreciated these lyrics in “Wheelies:” Remember when we wore C1RCA/ Wanted to be Chad Muska/ When you cleared the four stair/ And rolled your ankle so bad we had to call your dad/ And we hate your dad.
I soon learned that one of my favorite Americana artists was playing at one of my favorite Nashville honky tonks, so of course I hopped in a car and headed straight to Robert’s Western World to see Emily Nenni. To my ears, her music is timeless. The crux of her songs somehow sound like they could have been recorded in the mid 1970s or in present-day 2025. She walks the line. I’ve been a big fan ever since her 2017 debut LP and I can’t wait to hear her upcoming album. Last year’s Drive & Cry landed her on the Opry stage and witnessing Emily in her element was a great reminder that Nashville is a songwriter’s world – her songs are unforgettable gems rooted in classic honkytonk, 1970s outlaw country, and modern-day Americana.
We also caught some amazing performances inside The Blue Room at Third Man Records. Dean Johnson’s performance was easily my favorite that week. He has a beautiful, lilting and reedy tone that falls somewhere between Will Oldham and M. Ward in timbre, but his gripping songs almost carry the emotional weight of a Townes Van Zandt tune – especially “Acting School” where his voice trembles with vulnerability as he musters up the nerve to buy a drink for his ex before shaking the hand of her new man.
Ken Pomeroy was another standout at The Blue Room. Her haunting inflections fell over the crowd like San Francisco fog as she sang a gorgeous ballad about her old dog “Wrango.” The control and balance in her singing had me clinging to every word of her poetic and pensive lyrics, making me want to put her music on mix somewhere between Gillian Welch and Alison Krauss.
There were so many other awesome artists and performances that we had the privilege to experience, but at the risk of giving y’all a super-sized serving of FOMO, I’m just going to end this piece with a picture of some mouth-watering barbeque that hit the spot like an acoustic A minor chord in the chorus of a lovelorn Americana ditty. All this said, if you ever get the inkling to attend next year’s Americanafest, do yourself a favor and book those tickets! You can thank us later.
