Symphonic Reflections in Nashville

Broadway in Nashville, Tennessee, might be close to as far as you can get from classical refinement. The pleasing architecture is dripping with neon advertising, and the sidewalks are busy with tourists eating barbeque, drinking beer, buying compact discs and cowboy boots, and listening to a plethora of sounds coming from the future country singers of America. If less than refined music wasn't enough, there's even a "Florida trailer diner" inside an old Victorian storefront.

Look down Third Avenue and you get a glimpse of the Country Music Hall of Fame. The architecture there is not enough to make you want to explore further, but spotting a free parking place may be enough to draw you down the street. Just about at the point where you get to the rear of the Victorian storefronts facing Broadway, you'll get a glimpse of a neo-classical building that looks as if it's been there for a hundred years.

I hadn't been to Nashville for more than ten years, and I didn't remember the building I was looking at. I was taken by its beauty, complementary to the Tennessee State Capitol and Parthenon replica that Nashville has known for years. Perhaps in recent years the "Athens of the South" has taken a second row seat to "Music City, U.S.A." as Nashville's moniker, yet the Schermerhorn Symphony Center seems to hold both flags up with ease.

It's hard to explain the emotional impact this building had once I convinced myself that the building was recently constructed. My eyes raced around its edges, focusing in on the windows, the construction materials, and fixtures that could confirm that this neo-classical gem was a recent arrival on the music and architectural scene.

To think I had just a few months before admired the Kimmel Center in Philadelphia--a great modern symphony hall and monument to our time and place. The Kimmel was nothing compared to the Schermerhorn, however. While the placement of the Schermerhorn has something to be desired, the dignity and street presence had so much over the Kimmel I would think it obvious that this is the kind of building we should be constructing.

I suppose in some sense it's unfair to compare the Schermerhorn with the Kimmel. The former utilized a tried and true architectural style, the latter one that hasn't yet been tested by time. Critics may contend that one leans to heavily on the past and the other looks boldly to the future. Yet, that classical music leans to heavily on the past is a common critique, and there will be undoubtedly more Beethoven coming from both halls than anything composed in our own time. Yet we would be fooling ourselves if we thought we could compose a symphony or design a building completely detached from those composed or designed before. More, a symphony composed today does not have the additional challenge a piece of architecture does, of standing directly beside other works of different eras and styles, open to any and all comparisons and criticisms. More, works of music can be played time again by musicians of different levels of talent and taste, while a building will only be constructed once.

As I expected, the critics didn't agree with my assessment of the Schermerhorn. "Makes me think of a fancy bordello in a colorful frontier town," said one critic. Worse, "It brings to mind immortal Tennessee native Dolly Parton's affinity for trashiness, which she described as rooted in 'a little country girl's idea of what glamour was.'"

I can't begin to imagine what neuron misfiring brought to mind an affinity for trashiness when looking at the Schermerhorn. This assumes glamour is forever lost on cities like Nashville. It would seem a jelous recognition on the part of the eastern cultural centers that the money has moved, and that time has begun to sprout taste in a place not amused by the idea that discordant originality is necessary for a still emerging cultural center to make its mark in the world.

If we thought of architects like musicians in a symphony, there would be no need for a conductor or necessity for attempting to apply principles of acoustics. Each musician would be playing their instrument in their own manner without recognition or regard for what the others were doing. This could not only not work in a symphonic setting, it couldn't even work with country or bluegrass music.

If you left the symphony hall and stood in the center of Broadway to hear different music coming from a variety of bar performances and loudspeakers, you might get an idea for what this discordant originality would look like if applied to a living environment. Some is tolerable, but to excess it's unnerving.

The New York Times said:

There is quality to admire here, but it is still a hall about other people's halls. It has no point of view. Maybe Nashville wants it this way. So, rather than point its prow into the wind and sail toward the future, the Schermerhorn happily acquiesces to prevailing currents. With the same Acropolis complex that has gripped public architecture for centuries, it becomes one more placid Greek temple. It doesn't argue with the neighbors. Originality, it has been decided, is not only bad policy but bad manners.

Writer Bernard Holland complains about the use of mythological figures including Orpheus, which he says has nothing to do with Nashville .

If I had my way, I would go after Orpheus with a hammer and replace him with friezework that says a better hello to its neighbors. I'd like to look up and see Ernest Tubb or the Everly Brothers on those walls, some kind of iconography that acknowledges what has made this city so admired around the world.

Orpheus was considered one of the chief poets and musicians of antiquity, and the inventor or perfector of the lyre. In Greek legend, what Orpheus did was charm wild beasts, and it would seem there are plenty to be charmed over on Broadway. Should I dare ask what Ernest Tubb has to do with the Nashville Symphony?

The real test will be how long the Schermerhorn lasts. If the Tennessee State Capitol and Parthenon are an indication, the Schermerhorn will be part of Nashville for a long time to come.

I suspect time will prove that the Schermerhorn has achieved most everything we can hope for in a good building. Generations will enjoy the best, not only from our own time, but the best from years of composition and creation in architecture and music. Contrary to the common critics, successfully adapting historical designs to new buildings is not an easy task. Making a building that will complement its neighbors is an even greater challenge. Most architects in modern times have done this by building with reflective glass that draws in pieces of neighboring architecture. Their charm does not extend far beyond those reflective qualities. The Schermerhorn achieved greatness by reflecting centuries of design and bringing them to 21 st century uses. It is my hope the timeless qualities of good design and advanced modern technical adaptations will continue to be a part of Nashville and other cities aiming to build enduring landmarks rather than statements that don't have much chance to outlive our own days.

Eric Miller

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