Ayric Dierenfeld
Chesney’s Qwest
concerts set a Seattle attendance record.
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Who are these people? Like that guy singing karaoke. With his mustache, embroidered NASCAR shirt, Wrangler jeans, and cell phone fastened to his hip, he's the type of good old boy TV news reporters love to stop in the 7-Eleven parking lot when tragedies strike small towns ("Lived here my whole life; never expected somethin' like this t'happen").
In walks a broad-shouldered Alan Jackson look-alike. He, too, has the mustache, fitted denim, and cell phone at the hip. He's also got hair to the middle of his back topped off by a large cowboy hat—a little more of a bad-boy allure. Other guys are sporting Tim McGraw's geometric facial hair; still others cop Kenny Chesney's baby-faced quarterback shtick. And the women—well, if they aren't in the fashion of Faith Hill's American Eagle-meets-Nashville-slick, then they resemble the type of gals who give pedicures and perms.
These people don't care about looking hip. They are country music fans, every one. And in Seattle, where it's easy to believe each person is cut from the same New Yorker–subscribing, NPR-listening, liberal-leaning cloth, it's bewildering to learn that mainstream country music ranks at or near the top of the city's most popular genres. So popular that Chesney broke local records for concert ticket sales—more than 44,000 people went to see him two years in a row at Qwest Field, which made his shows bigger attractions than those of Madonna, U2, Paul McCartney, and the Rolling Stones.
In fact, for five of the past seven years, the top local FM radio station has been mainstream country station KMPS (it's been one of the top three local stations for 32 years). Seattle is also one of the nation's top markets for country music in terms of album sales. Yet, without fail, most people still raise an eyebrow at the assertion that Seattle is a country town.
"Believe me, it's frustrating for us," says Becky Brenner, programming director for KMPS. "You try to tell people that country is the biggest format, and they go, 'What? It's the home of grunge and rock!'"
The numbers speak for themselves, but the local live country scene does not. The Little Red Hen is the only bar located within the city limits that regularly offers live mainstream country music, and there are only a handful of local artists working in the genre. Most of them, if they want any success at all, have their sights set on Nashville. Compare this with the local indie-rock scene, where bands like Grand Archives get signed to Sub Pop after one show.
"It's a tough city," says Nathan Arneson. "It's definitely different, mostly because there [are] not many places to play."
Seated in the very uncountry West Seattle Easy Street Records, Arneson has a well-calculated country swagger, a precise way of tilting a beer bottle to his lips, and a very polite, two-pump country handshake. He has a way of tucking only the front of his T-shirt in (so his belt buckle shows), and wears a cowboy hat made out of hide, with two beaded feathers hanging from the back. Today, however, he's in a Seahawks jersey and knit cap.
Arneson is a member of Nathan Chance & North Coast, a band he's in with another local country singer, Chance McKinney (the two split singing and songwriting duties). His style of country is in line with several of the mainstream stars of today, his vocals heavy with classic-rock flavor. For six years, Arneson ran the Little Red Hen's Wednesday karaoke night, where he was dubbed "Country Nathan." But he recently stepped down to focus on the band and do some work in Nashville, namely nailing down a producer to work on an EP.
Arneson has played country music in Seattle for years—formerly with Latigo Lace—and is aware of the fact that bands like his are few and far between. "When we say we're the only game in town," he says, "it's because we kinda are. There [are] just not many quality country bands around."
Being the cream of some very slim pickings has provided Nathan Chance & North Coast with great opportunities. Whereas groups like Band of Horses ignite bidding wars between local rock clubs, Arneson's band has been first on the list to open for George Strait, Rascal Flatts, Brooks & Dunn, and Chesney's record-breaking Qwest Field shows.
Take one glance at Arneson's tour lineup for the next few months, however, and you won't see Seattle on that list anywhere, even though he's lived and played here since 1995. Kitsap and Skagit County casinos, sure—but unless those big-name Nashville acts come through town, his local gigs here are few and far between.
"Even though there's obviously a large market for it," he says, "unless you're playing casinos, your only options are opening shows. But the casinos aren't really good places either because the people aren't there to hear the music. We get people all the time asking us, 'Why don't you play more shows?' Well, we would if we could get them."
It would seem more versatile, welcoming clubs like the Showbox and the Triple Door could do well by booking mainstream country acts, but that's not the case. "Country is tough," says Triple Door booker Scott Giampino. "We love doing country shows...but it's harder to reach many of the country fans to let them know of our possible shows."
