I’m proud of the fact that Steph and I are extremely close. We are each other’s biggest cheerleaders, supporters and sounding boards. Jealousy and competitiveness, truly, have never been an issue and I’m grateful for this aspect of our bond.
Well, lemme tell you, those warm and fuzzy heartwarming sentiments came to a screeching halt a few weeks ago when I discovered Steph would be attending Dolly Parton’s 50th Anniversary performance at the Grand Ole Opry. Oh, and the likes of Lady Antebellum and Vince Gill were going to be performing as well.
Life. Is. Not. Fair.
Wait, it gets worse.
Little Sis, Big Sis, Mama… boots.
Twisting the dull knife even further into my country music-loving heart, Steph tells me that mere days later she would be attending the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame induction ceremony.
My sister is certainly a fan of music. However, there are just enough years separating us in age that she doesn’t remember our earliest country music memories, and our dear mother’s musical dispositions towards women like Juice Newton, Linda Ronstadt, Crystal Gayle and, of course, Dolly Parton. Was Stephanie old enough to remember evenings in our house that revolved around watching Barbara Mandrell and The Mandrell Sisters on television? Probably not, as she would have been three. Perhaps the country music angels simply wanted my sister to catch up with me (standard older sibling assumption, amiright?)
Eventually, my green-with-envy complexion faded back to my more natural shades of pale, and I was truly excited for Steph and fully prepared to live vicariously through her. After all, it was only a year ago that she bravely traded her very established New York City life for brand new adventures in Nashville. Fittingly, the universe rewarded her by dropping her smack dab into the richest history of what Nashville artistry has to offer.
Also, I was curious: Does she see any overlap with the artistic worlds of New York City and Nashville? How have her opinions on country music evolved since moving? And what is Garth Brooks really like in person? (Yes, this happened).
So, tell me everything….
Stephanie: I’ll say, off the bat, my opinions of country music have not evolved since moving to Nashville because I never really had any. I put country music in the category of “stuff you listened to in the car to annoy me.” (Ed. note: that would be Taylor Swift, and she’s not country anymore - M). I always saw the appeal but never made an effort to engage with it, until now, because it’s obviously very woven into the tapestry of life here. I literally hear music playing while walking down the street every morning, pouring out from bars, being blasted at the entrance of my apartment building. Living in NYC I wore earbuds 24/7, but in Nashville the street has it’s own playlist. I LOVE this about my new home base. It comes with a soundtrack. And no, it's not all just bro-country or pop (Ed. note - personal fan of bro- and pop country here; we can debate the merits later - M.) It’s Delta Rae, The Highwomen, Margo Price, Steel Drivers, Willie Nelson, Southern Avenue, Rhiannon Giddens. It’s Americana, Southern Goth Rock, Blues, Bluegrass, Gospel, Outlaw country… I just named ALL of those off the top of my head! Wow. So yes, I think I can safely say I am now a fan.
Oh and yes, Garth Brook called me darlin’. Technically, he was making his way past me in the crowded ballroom of the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame event and said, “Excuse me, darlin,” but I’ll take that as my moment. Side note: “Darlin,” “Sugar” and “Ma’am” are terms of endearment I hear from strangers regularly now, and I ain’t mad about it.
You’ve preformed on many stages in your life, and you’ve also sat in the most beautiful theaters in the world - in New York, Italy, Washington DC…how does the Opry compare?
The Opry, The Ryman and The Bluebird Cafe are as full of life, history and character as any stage I’ve ever experienced. The same twinkle I saw people have when they’d open the stage door to Lincoln Center each night is the same twinkle I see in folks heading into the Opry. The same goes for the patrons. The lines around the block to get into the Bluebird remind me of the lines in Times Square at the TKTS booth - people so passionate about a live experience that they will literally stand in line in freezing rain or sweltering heat to be a part of it. The characters are totally different, sure, but the joy is the same.
As a writer, did you feel a connection to the writers you encountered at the Hall of Fame Ceremony?
One thing I noticed right away, when I attended my first Opry show and when I attend creative events or parties, is that there is a real REVERENCE for elders in this community. And I say this as a writer and an actor. You’d be hard pressed to find any young musician ramble off their list of inspirations and not have it include at least three octogenarians; folks they had studied, and who they still listen to with ardor. When a seasoned player is about to speak or take the stage, people stop and listen. I mean really listen. It’s refreshing and humbling to see that kind of respect. I’ve never understood or agreed with the notion that actresses have “shelf lives” or that older meant “out-of- touch.” I’ve always believed that the older you get, the more story you have to tell and the more people you’ll be able to relate to. My dearest friends and greatest teachers in and out of “the biz” have all been older than me, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
…Also, we could just chalk this observation up to the fact that my spirit age is 87 (which it has been since I was 12). So I feel really at home when a 75 year-old with a banjo wants to sit down and have a chat.
I’m not sure if it’s an effect of southern hospitality or the transient nature of songwriting (you write another, and another, and another), but collaboration feels different here. There is a levity and a sense of discovery that really permeates the atmosphere. Twenty minutes in any direction and you hit lakes, fields, railroad tracks. It’s an expansive place, and I think this impacts people’s creative rhythms. Keeps them more porous, maybe?
There is a phrase here in Nashville: “Write a word, get a third.” When I first heard it, I thought hmm, that doesn’t sound very fair. But now I think, “All for one.” What a simple, respectful, easeful way of doing things. Perhaps there is something to that? In NYC it can sometimes feel like a hierarchy (which I’m sure is true in every business), but here it feels more like “come on up and sing one with me?” Or “you around to jump in on this?” Less of a system and more of an eco-system.
It’s interesting to hear you say this, because, as your sister, I’ve been saying that since you moved from New York to Nashville you seem lighter. But maybe the word is “expansive.”
Same idea. Nerd alert…go with me (Ed. note: she’s not kidding. Buckle up. - M). Time feels different here. We are always expanding or contracting to adjust to the space around us. I know I’m literally expanding more (on a cellular level) than I ever have before. I don’t brace myself walking down the street or contract to squeeze on the subway. The majority of people aren’t at a rushing pace. When we expand, we take up more space and therefore experience the “notion of time” differently. It’s not just slowing down, it’s growing open. Einstein’s theory of general relativity describes gravity “as a geometric property of space and time.” I know he means “black hole and stars” kind of space, but you’d better believe that macro relates to the micro of individual humans as well.
This just got super intellectual for a post about Dolly Parton and friendly sister competition but I’m here for it. Circling back, do you have a particularly special memory from Dolly’s 50th anniversary Opry performance? Once in a lifetime!
Yes, when a very handsome gent with the stage crew brought her a microphone on stage and she said to the audience “Isn’t he cute girls?” And the audience cheered. And then she said “Isn’t he cute, boys?” And the audience cheered even louder. I thought…Nashville gets it, Dolly gets it, this city is a place I can certainly call home.
By Marissa and Stephanie DiMaggio
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