From Mayberry to Monaco

A few weekends ago I had the chance to go see some of my nearest and dearest friends back home. We decided to meet up in Mount Airy, North Carolina.

For those of you well-versed in the world of Southern culture, you will immediately say to yourselves, "Ah, the hometown of the one-and-only Andy Griffith of the classic television sitcom 'The Andy Griffith Show!' The town on which Mayberry was based!'" For those of you now clueless (most likely, my neighbors up here in the land of Yankees), don't worry. It's just time to baptize yourselves in the waters of wholesome T.V. and revel in the everlasting joy of knowing how Ron Howard got his start.

(The answer: He played Opie, Andy's fishin'-pole-luggin', tow-headed son.)



It was good to be back in the homeland. It felt like an ambassadorial mission due to the fact that my Brooklyn boyfriend had come along. The first item of the day was to teach him that what he drives is not a truck; the second, a lesson (which we ate) on grits, biscuits and country ham.

The rest of the day was filled with music. We started off by paying a visit to the live airing of WPAQ 740 A.M.'s Saturday-morning radio show. In this world of Clear Channel and radio sounds sent via satellite, the "Merry-Go-Round" is a rare find. Over the half-century it's been around, a whole host of regional and national music legends (including Tommy Jarrell, the Carter Family, Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs, and Bill and Charlie Monroe) have gathered before its microphones. The morning we went, a local family was playing Southern Gospel with heart, gusto and good, solid belief in the Lord.

Just outside the show was more music. A street band of sorts was playing true mountain music -- good, old, pure bluegrass. The talent was real and raw and not necessarily something you would expect from four men who looked like life had beat them heartily on the journey. With burning cigarettes wedged into the space between the strings and the tuning pegs, their high harmonies soared with that lonesome hillbilly drawl. (Question: Does anybody know where I can get a John Deere cap in Brooklyn? Because all these guys sported them in style.)

The memories were flowing, nostalgia was high, and it was definitely time to eat again. We strolled past Floyd's Barber Shop and Opie's Candy Store and made our way to Snappy's Lunch Cafe -- home of the world's greatest fried pork-chop sandwich. It comes served on a delicate bed of waxed paper and is topped with chili and coleslaw (who knows what else is hiding under there).

We passed on a Civil War re-enactment going on just outside of town and opted instead for a corn maze (you got that right, a labryinth cut through a cornfield) followed by a contest of apple-slinging (a complex sport involving a very large slingshot built into a fence and a barrel placed with precise measurement way far away). Apple-slinging is where my darling proved himself worthy of his Southern companions. He landed the only apple in the barrel, thus winning baby Cora the chance to choose herself a pumpkin. (The one she chose was half her size.)

This weekend was full of so much revelry and fun that I could hardly stand myself. I was on cloud nine. We topped it off with a visit to my Grandma's house and one last meal of fried Southern goodness before making our way back North.

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Just a few days later it was time to fly out for a week-long work trip to a trade show in Monaco. Yes, Monaco. As in Monte-Carlo, Princess-Grace, James-Bond Monaco. I don’t need to tell you it's a spectacular setting. Cliffs rising out of the sparkling Mediterranean, unparalleled wealth, and a whole country jam-packed onto a strip of land literally just a few city blocks long. It's mind-boggling just to try to count the number of Ferraris and Porsches rolling casually down the street.

With talk like this, you probably see why I spend a great deal of time trying to make folks understand that my days of work travel are pretty mundane. That's right: It's all day, everyday, spent inside a conference center manning a booth to tout the benefit of fiber optics in video transmission solutions for broadcasters. Not exactly James Bond material.

But the good thing about being a human being is that you always must eat. So my colleagues and I did, on food and wine that was both fabulous and expensive. (The only thing Monaco offers for free is a late-night dip in the Mediterranean.)

When it comes right down to it, I’d be just as happy with a sandwich from Snappy’s.

The real deal

Sometimes I feel like I have split personality disorder, trying to divide my time between the world of my daytime job (young professionals) and my nighttime gigs (the New York music scene). This gap is always made ridiculously apparent on the last Monday of the month, the night the Songwriters Circle meets at the Red Lion.

The Songwriters Circle is put on by my mentor, Ann Ruckert, along with the Songwriters Guild, 13 Stories Records and the Johnny Mercer Foundation. And it is one of the premier musicians' events in the city. I've been going for quite some time -- for about a year, not playing at all -- and then I got asked to do one song as a "guest performer" every now and then. Recently, I've had the chance to sit on stage and be part of a round. Progress is being made.

This is a huge honor for me, and an incredible opportunity to hear and be heard by some of the industry's greats. Just this past week I was on stage and Phoebe Snow was in the audience. If you don't know her, look her up. You won't regret it.

Phoebe Snow is one of those people who makes you realize what it really takes. She gets on stage to sing a tune and when she opens her mouth, heads literally turn. Without realizing it you sit up in your chair and the hairs on your arms stand on end. It's a soul stirring experience. When she stops you instinctively stand and applaud, not out of politeness or obligation, but to show her how moved you are. She's beautiful, powerful and funky -- all in one breath. She has something incredibly special that sets her apart from the rest. I felt lucky to have had the opportunity just to listen.

Which brings me back to myself, the underling, on stage in my suit -- yes, blazer and pants -- because I come to the Circle straight from work. Which means I have to fight to be funky. It's hard to feel the music like Phoebe Snow does when you just commuted in from Manhattan corporate.

By day, it's all about detachment and reasoning. By night, I've got to make the switch to open up to feeling. To put all I've got into the next note.

Recently I've made a push to really work on this, to let go of professional demeanor come 6 o'clock, and occasionally I have a glimmer of success. One of the times this happens best is whenever I'm playing a song written by my good friend Todd Bird. It's called "A Part of You Loves Me," a beautiful tune, and it's one that lets me lose myself ... you can hear it by clicking here.

This is a live recording from the Songwriters Circle, but I'm hoping to do a professional one soon. And hopefully it will help remind me to quit being so concerned about whether or not my pants are starched.

My status

The world of social networking: It's bizzare. Now, I'll be the first to admit that I've reconnected with old schoolmates through Facebook that I would have otherwise never found. But the thing is that we still don't actually see each other. We navigate a virtual world as if it's real.

It's not.

Yesterday, I got sent a dish from a "potluck dinner" with all the appropriate "fixins'" to go alongside. It was hilarious, but -- dang it -- I didn't actually get to eat anything. And pigs-in-a-blanket just aren't the same unless you can smell and touch their greasy goodness.





A real potluck, of course, requires the preparation of real food by real people who come to your real house to have face-to-face real live conversation. Is it possible we will forget how to sit down and just talk to one another, even if it is across undercooked casseroles covered in cheese?

In the emerging neo-music industry, networking sites are now what we live and die by. The race is to build an audience, to get the word out and get people hooked on your music, I've been told. So here I am, updating MySpace, Facebook, Sonicbids, LinkedIn and http://www.brittneal.com/, not to mention this blog. And Lord knows how many more dozens of networks I could be part of.

These sites -- strangely enough -- are now where my entire existence is laid out for all to review. My background, my next gigs, my newest music, my current musings.

And, as I've come to realize, my love life.

Yep, this is a blog entry about romance. To announce that --should you check Facebook -- you will find my "relationship status" no longer marked "single." I am taking the plunge. Taking myself off the (love) market. And posting it online for all to see.

Believe me, this cyber statement feels significant and has been followed by a significant amount of commenting both online and offline. But Nick is a wonderful and amazing guy, and I am one lucky gal, so as significant or insignificant as it may be, I'm happy to announce. (Soon the announcements in the NY Times will surely include changes in status on Facebook don't you think?)

P.S. You Facebook users out there, don't lie. I know the "profile" box is the first thing you look at.