A paradox wrapped in magic: My backstage tour at the Grand Ole Opry

It was a small group of us that signed up for a backstage tour at the Grand Ole Opry, all from somewhere else, Idaho, Colorado, Maine yet unified in our curiosity.  However, during my tour, I’m faced with a podcast conundrum: Do these backstage experiences take away the magic, or enhance it and I’m left second guessing my own podcast about concert culture. But when I embrace the spirit of a tourist, it allows me to move past my overthinking and discover that the most magical takeaway is my own personal history with the venue.
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At 4 pm sharp electronic doors opened, (think haunted house at the Magic Kingdom), and we were ushered into a very lavish living room. Much like the haunted house ride at Disney World, we're surrounded by picture frames on a digital carousel, swapping out photos of music legends every 10 seconds or so. I took a seat and within minutes, a 3D version of Garth Brooks and his wife, Trisha Yearwood appeared. This was not a video, not a hologram, but the in between version of hologram and standard video projection. They dove into history of the Opry with carefully edited clips assembled to pull at the heartstrings. The music, the choreographed lights and the script were so emotional, I was both moved by the history of live music and also the production value. 
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But in the same moment it felt like I was being force fed the importance of the venue. I had already bitten the lure and was on the line.  I could see the value of a sparkly marketing piece to attract me, but they already had me onboard. Over done or was I already overthinking? After the emotional lubricant was applied, came the tour. Another set of animatronic doors swung open and we were now in the lobby of the theater watching... more videos. If the first video didn’t impress the importance of what we were about to do, this video made sure to do that for us. Then we were ushered by a very perky guide with perfected punchlines and an even perkier rhinestone belt. 

And you know, that is one reason why I enjoy these kinds of tours. They are bottled up and packaged just right. Homogenized and safe. Embracing experiences designed for tourists allows me to not think too hard, rather just go with the flow. However, I indulged in considering my own podcast paradox. Concert Cast was created to evoke deeper feelings of concert culture by talking to people at the heart of the industry, or, like the backstage tour does, to lift the veil on magic. The inquisitive nature of Concert Cast and heartfelt curiosity, like this backstage tour, is what keeps me producing. But now I have something new to consider: where should the curtain fall?

We walked through another set of doors and were officially backstage. The lighting was more sterile, and the ceilings so high you could barely see the top. Some stagehands were pacing, waiting for musicians and I wonder if they feel like animals in a cage when tourists come through.

We turn a corner and are ushered into a TV studio where Hee Haw, a country-themed television variety show was filmed and where new TV specials are now too. There was a huge drop screen and a balcony for a TV audience along with lighting rigs and tresses. And then, you guessed it, another video explaining the importance of the room. From there we were ushered into the dressing room area which felt like the lobby at an office complex, complete with a guard behind a desk checking IDs. What caught my eye was a little post office where members of the Opry receive fan mail. There were the plaques of all the country stars and so many great pictures. We walked down a long hallway as the guide explained to us how each dressing room is designed differently, and mentioned musicians who prefer which room and why. (By the way, Dolly Parton loves the purple themed room with crystals.)

Each room had its own vibe and decor with a multitude of colors and patterns. And they were super clean and appeared barely used. Honestly, they felt more like a hotel room and I was a little disappointed they didn’t have more marks of the musicians who used them as sanctuary before a show. There was no sign of grit, no sign of a story. 

From years of interviewing bands backstage at venues, there really is a sense of magic in the walls, but the backstage area here felt superimposed. I was fascinated by the mystery of what they were covering up. What party stains did a cleaner spend hours removing? What is the real narrative of the venue? If country music is known for antics, these backstage areas felt a bit too polished. When I asked the perky guide with a rhinestone belt about any shenanigans, she had a bottled answer that I am sure is partly true; the artists are on their best behavior because they want to be invited back. Now the backstage area held a narrative of privilege and success – and reverence like a place of worship. 

She then showed us the main lounge area where The Archie Campbell Mural was the centerpiece. The painting was drawn in 1966 for the cover of a souvenir book and then installed as a mural in 1981. The image depicts a night at the Opry where a bunch of cartoon characters, similar to a Where’s Waldo setup, are dancing all over the stage and having their own little life. This mural was the only relic that truly showed character of the backstage area because there was no sheen, and the guide explained how it was water stained from the 2010 flood. That detail, more than anything else she shared, grabbed my attention. The waterline was about 4 feet off the ground indicating that the stage upon which we were about to walk was once underwater. Bouncing back from that disaster is a true testament to the power of this place and its people. And that it is memorialized in a mural depicting joyful cartoon characters is unexpected. This was the realness that I was looking for and aim to tell in Concert Cast episodes. The challenges that a venue or artist endures is where the story starts and that shared, human condition is what I love about podcasting. The magic is in the story - the real story.

As we walk towards the stage and turn a small corner, we are met with a massive auditorium filled with rows of cushioned church pews. And while we are not performers, I think we all understood the wow factor musicians feel as they step onto the stage and take in the majestic scene. Now I get what Garth and Trisha shared in their moving welcome video.  

Blocked off sections of instrumentation on stage hinted of a museum, less the do not touch signs, and then we were, at long last, steps away from the infamous “circle” that was explained to us ad nauseam in the videos. This 4X4 circle is where so many artists stood at the Ryman, the former home of the Opry, and then they moved this patch of wood to the current location in the 70’s. There is a stark difference between the circle and the stage. This and the cartoon mural were the only elements in the house that showed its age. The wood grain in the circle was light and weathered, like a high school gym beaten down by years of basketball playing, the history of the piece of wood dazzled in the lights. It’s funny how we make regular objects into metaphors, projecting our own wishes, hopes and dreams onto something that has no heartbeat. But it is this that makes the live music experience so fascinating to me, imagining all the people that once stood in our shoes and will stand there once again. Venues are mythological, and we personify the building to better connect. But again, this is a contradiction of live music venues, because to many people, venues are considered just a building, there is no mystery or magic about it. 

While on stage, I did feel like an imposter, there is a sense of getting too close to the magic, and, like the static electricity of being shocked back into reality. Do these tours take away the magic, or enhance it? As a podcaster who is inspired by moments like these -  I do penetrate the 4th wall by taking listeners behind the scenes and sharing the realness of being backstage before a performer goes on. Because to me, the magic is in the mundane but it is also in the mystery of what goes on backstage.

But on a tour like this where we feel like we are at a zoo or museum, it can feel like sacrilege or something, cheapening the experience. However, for many, it will be what they tell their friends about when sharing travel stories about Nashville. I am not a musician, so I did not feel worthy to stand in the circle. But I stepped inside to absorb the creativity; the collective feeling of humans longing for a moment to be seen and heard, and to share their passion. After a stop at the gift shop and dinner in Opryland, I'm back in my pew for the show.

More videos played on the monstrous big screens, driving home the history of this place but this time, it was out of context and unnecessary. The videos hijacked our imagination, replacing it with their own narrative. Concerts are subjective and showing too many videos that curate a feeling aren’t fair to people who want to experience things on their own terms. A bit deflated and with no real choice, I sunk into the videos and waited for the music.

The Opry is a long-standing radio performance, so the host comes out to introduce each band and then in between their acts, which are only 3 songs or so each, stagehands come out to reconfigure the set up for the next band. That was super cool to watch. And I love how the entire night was like scanning the radio, where different genres of country were heard, and before you know it, you were onto the next band. It was definitely a great experience in this day and age of short attention spans.

But the real magical part of the night for me was knowing that my parents once sat in the audience, back in the 90’s when both Clint Black and Garth Brooks performed on the same night. Sitting on the pews, transported me through time. I love that venues are a connective thread across generations and l got lost thinking of my mom and dad, being here together at my age enjoying music. Like an apparition going back in time, my mind's eye watched as they walked through the door, found their row and then watched the musicians step onto the stage for their moment in the circle. This unexplainable feeling is enchanting. The feeling of unity and togetherness is hypnotic, it moves, it breathes, it is invisible. When I left the venue, my system felt shocked, not by the bitter Tennessee winter air, but by a mini revelation of how cynical I can be. People enjoy the backstage tour and, truly, so did I. There is a reason that 20 of them run daily. 

The joy of being a tourist, letting go and being swept up in the lore is to be open and curious, and that is also what I aim to offer through Concert Cast. To talk with people who live and breathe live music. Sharing stories and reflections doesn’t demystify, rather it makes a connection and brings the listener inside the magic. I think that works when the story revealed is real and not pasteurized for preservation.

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