By Owen Canavan

Other than love, in my opinion, music remains the only universal language. And far more than New York or Los Angeles, Nashville remains the only real music town in the world. Blocks outside our warm, yet at times constraining campus boundary exists the backbone of the music industry's machine: Music Row. Though the physicality of the implied street extends beyond one single avenue, it is indeed no more than a five-minute walk from end to end. Music publishing groups, performing rights' organizations and record labels, however, are from the only institutions that allow Nashville's pseudonym - Music City - to actually live. In fact, many would argue that it is the vintage instrument shops, used repair depots and sales outlets that truly comprise the essence of Nashville's music scene, and I would agree. Last Saturday I was privileged enough to act on some of the friendships that I have made over the past two years, and learn some fascinating stories about how the last remaining small guitar stores serve as a backdrop against the city's history, the music business as a whole and the societal changes apparent throughout the country.

I began at Rock Block Guitars, a shop housed in a 100-year-old building on Elliston Place, directly adjacent to the Soda Shop. The place brings back personal memories, as I used to take lessons there from a southern rock guitar badass. The owner of Rock Block, Jerry O'Donnell - a Hammond B3 organ player himself - can be credited as having established a grassroots following for his shop. Drexel, the store's weekend manager, noted, "A major reason why such a small place has been successful is because of the fact that working musicians are the only ones who work the shop." Thus, a loyal constituency frequents Rock Block purely because of previously established friendships. He laughs, "Hey, that's still business."
Employing no marketing techniques or even advertisements, the fact that Rock Block is still a fully functioning shop speaks positively to the landlords as well, as the ride of corporate companies such as Guitar Center and Musician's Friend generally have the leverage to force these small, in-house operations out of business. In addition, the fact that so many big-name musicians used to either work or hang out at Rock Block also play a role in the store's ability to maintain its reputation as a friendly shop with professionally trained employees. Drexel mentions toward the end of our encounter that members of the Allman Brothers, Gov't Mule and Charlie Daniels Band could be seen here almost on a daily basis, and they even used to rehearse here. Little did I know when I was taking lessons, I may have been plugging through the same amp riggings used during the Allmans' practice sessions ... if only I had grown up two generations ago. Drexel's prophetic final words of the interview that surely extend as a motto to Nashville's entire music scene were that the store has "... always been word of mouth, and always will be."

As I made my way downtown toward Lower Broadway, I wondered if I would have the same success at Gruhn Guitars, a shop widely considered not only the nicest of Nashville guitar shops, but also the most expensive and commercially penetrated. With a dose of good luck and perhaps even divine intervention, my time at Gruhn was markedly more successful than I had ever imagined. It's interesting to note that when I arrived in Nashville in August of my freshman year I actually went to Gruhn Guitars before setting foot on campus. Bizarre maybe.
Regardless, I approached my buddy Keith when I arrived and told him about the story I was working on. Without hesitation, he offered to take me upstairs to meet with owner George Gruhn himself. What was upstairs? I was only aware of the first-floor showroom until a short elevator ride admitted me to an area where the hundreds of thousands of dollars of products are kept. As I waited for Gruhn to finish appraisals, I asked if I could pick around for a bit on some of the guitars on display. Having received permission, I found myself playing a $150,000 acoustic Martin from the 1920s - not too bad for arriving without an appointment. I entered Gruhn's office elated with the opportunity that had presented itself to me entirely by chance.
Upon entering, I couldn't tell if the office belonged to an environmentalist with an affinity for large snakes (living in his office were an Australian carpet python, a Cuban boa, an Everglades rat snake and a Mexican Gray Banded King snake, among others) or to the most important man in the vintage instrument business. It turned out to belong to both.
Gruhn explained that Gruhn Guitars' business model is different from any other store in town (and perhaps the nation), as the showroom is not the biggest area of the shop. Instead, the store consists of four floors, and the public only sees the first.

"You continually hear that new businesses generally fail in their first years because of insufficient capitalization and inexperience," Gruhn said. "One of the things I have always had in my business was the basic formula that one quarter would be showroom and the rest of it for support."Yet, perhaps the most fascinating point of conversation was Gruhn's journey into the business. "After my grad work I got a call from Hank Williams Jr., who said that Sonny Osbourne from the Opry had told him that I had a bunch of old guitars. He said that he would be there in four hours to buy some - and he did," Gruhn said. "He bought all the guitars he could hold, which was three, and then returned with a Cadillac Eldorado and bought enough to fill that. Then he said that Nashville didn't have anything like me, and said he would fund opening a shop for me. So I moved to Nashville and had an apartment waiting for me."Gruhn explained that he began his collection of guitars in the classifieds, scanning for instruments to purchase. Despite the fact that "for every one instrument I would come across that I wanted to purchase, there were 50 to 100 that I didn't want," Gruhn bought almost all of them, re-selling them as a part of his collection for an elevated price. This practice proved to be extremely lucrative, as, "within less than a week I would have sold everything to get my money back," explained Gruhn.

Gruhn may have been one of the more interesting, bizarre and uniquely brilliant people I have ever sat down with for an extended period of time. I felt quite privileged to receive such a unique account on the vintage instrument business, and the story of how George came to be considered the best.

My final stop led me four miles down 12th Avenue South to an old shop called Corner Music. Though not nearly as impressive as the aforementioned stores, it did offer a glimpse into what it's like to be an operating music store somewhat removed from downtown. Floor manager Jason Howes said the shop "... struggles because of the lack of tourist business that comes naturally with operating downtown." Instead, the majority of Corner Music's sales stem from professional musicians wanting a more personal connection with their salesmen. Nevertheless, it was impressive Corner Music remains a self-sufficient entity in a relatively isolated Nashville location.

After a day well spent of learning about vintage guitars and the men that sell them, I realized that these owners keep their stores running purely out of their desires to keep an attachment to the past. Though it may seem that this triad of shops are the last glimpse of the way Nashville music used to function, I have a feeling that they won't be going anywhere, at least in the near future. Musicians and fans alike share the common joy of walking into a guitar store and marveling at the beautiful instruments, despite whether or not one can actually play them. Should an absence of such shops ever be realized in Music City, Nashville culture would suffer tremendously. Until then, in order to combat such a terrible, yet unlikely potential, take a trip downtown, pick up an instrument and find out what the noise is all about.