October 28

And now I'm walking in Memphis.

Memphis is great. What a great place. I love it in Memphis. If Nashville is powered by country music and rhinestones then Memphis is the blues and dirt. Admittedly it's harder to get around than Nashville, things are more spread out, and the only people walking in the streets are bums and crazies, but the kids are cooler overall and there's a lot going on.

We dropped in on Sun Studios - the tiny place where rock music was invented in the mid-50s. Considering the building's place in music history you'd expect more of a fanfare but it's a pokey little building standing by itself next to a main road. It's still a functioning recording studio.

Funny anecdote. I was sat in the Sun Studios Diner - a fun place built onto the side of the music studio - when a guy pulls up in a swish, pink Cadillac. This guy looks the business; he's in his late fifties, wearing a tailored grey suit with an expensive looking haircut and Elvis Costello glasses. He's sitting there in a booth drinking a coke float, smoking a cigarette, reading the newspaper and looking for all the world like the spirit of rock n' roll made in the image of man. Who is this guy, thinks I, a Sun Records executive? A legendary guitar player?

Well it turns out he's nobody really. His name is Tad and he drives people around Memphis in his Cadillac giving guided tours. The funny thing is that while I was busy gawping at Tad and positing him as some kind of rock n'roll pioneer I completely missed WS Holland (Johnny Cash's drummer) quietly come in, drink a coffee and leave.

Made friends with one of the Sun Studios guides, Lydia, and she's become our Memphis mentor, driving us about a bit and showing us where's good to go. I'd also like to give an e-shout out to Ms Lisa - an ol' black lady who has worked at Sun for decades. She likes to talk about all the old blues and rock musicians who's come in and flirt with her back in the day. She must have just missed out on having sex with Elvis though - he would have been getting obese in Vegas by the time she arrived at Sun. Ms Lisa had just bought a small house and was worried that she wouldn't have enough money for Christmas presents for her kids, grandkids and, yes, great grandkids.

We went out with Lydia to a battle of the bands contest at the Red Rooster bar that evening. One band had actually dropped out so it was more of a battle of the band. A civil war. I think by now I've already seen more live music (most of which I haven't even mentioned) in Nashville and Memphis than I have in the last couple of years living in London. This band were good. The singer had a nice Gram Parson's thing going on. My friend and I helped load up their van afterwards (a creepy black vehicle appropriately named Uncle Paedophile), and the evening was only slightly spoiled by their young, trendy-looking drummer telling me the sad state of the music industry was the fault of "the Jews". He didn't really say it in a mean way though. Apart from that he was a nice guy.