As the school year closes, it always feels like a series of departures. For better or for worse, Tuscaloosa is shaped (or destroyed) by the people who stay here for four years of their life. And unfortunately, that gets extremely tiresome for the chronically lazy nature of Tuscaloosa, Ala. What I’m saying is, I can relate to Hackberry Records moving its output to Muscle Shoals.
In this interview with Reed Watson, we touch on why this is.
Trey Irby: Why the move to Florence?
Reed Watson: I think Florence is one of the most unique areas in the country, and we’re lucky to have it. I think that because it has this really potent combination of a lot of different things. It has tradition. The people that live there understand what the music business actually is. They have seen it before. They have seen it be successful before, so the idea that you want to do something ambitious is not necessarily written off there. It’s not just a pipe dream. I think that’s something you don’t get in a lot of places, especially small Southern towns. Now, I’m not going to sugarcoat this. This move is a deliberate move. I am leaving Tuscaloosa for very specific reasons.
TI: When you say that people would write you off…
RW: Well, I think that’s more of a figurative statement. I don’t think anyone has come up to me and laughed at me here, but I think the bar here is so low that you literally can do anything and people will pretty much ignore it because people have been tempered for so long to think that what we’ve got coming out of here sucks. And there’s a reason for that, and it’s not because it always sucks.
TI: Do you think the problem is venue based?
RW: No, I think it’s based on the expectations that we put on each other. We frankly don’t expect greatness out of each other. We expect crap, and we’re too lazy to do anything about it. I mean, we expect more from our TV shows and movies than we do from our own creative entities specifically and that’s a problem. And it’s distressing, but nobody else seems to give a damn and I refuse to be a part of a community that’s like that. I don’t do this so that I can have something to drink beer by. I do this because it’s something I want to do well, and that I believe there is significant talent here to make world class. And it’s tough to talk about. We tolerate crap, and because of that, our city thinks we are crap.
TI: Where’s the disconnect?
RW: If I had figured out the answer to that, I would still be here. Here’s an example. When you finish this article and you put it on the web site, I guarantee you that you’re going to have a pretty healthy wave of comments that say “Good riddance” or “All you do is bitch.” You’re going to have a lot of that show up, and that right there is the perfect example of the disconnect.
TI: I always like that point, because it seems so odd. It’s a very Republican, conservative point of view about the world, the whole ‘love it or leave it’ type thing. But the people that would comment on this would usually be people that would believe quite the opposite.
RW: And that’s the type of mentality of people who do not want to look at what the problems are.
During the end of this interview, Adam Morrow (of Callooh! Callay!, who we interviewed last week) made a point that I felt spoke through it all. He used the analogy that Tuscaloosa feels like a soccer mom going up to their child with orange slices, simply stating that they’re “doing good.” And this is actually an insult to people who want greater things, and frankly, it should be. If you want to change this town, you have to change your review system.
I’m not saying you need to turn pretentious and pretend cassette tapes and typewriters are apparently cool. I am saying that you make a larger commitment to people who are trying something and frankly, stop tolerating crap! Over the year, I fear that term has lost meaning: DIY culture. It’s not some pretentious concept meant to give 8.7 grades to Pitchfork. It should mean that we make things legitimately better ourselves. Unfortunately, we may not give a damn enough to do this. Prove me wrong.
