Memphis music holiday

Time Out travels to the birthplace of blues and soul, and explores their link with Memphis's civil rights heritage

A vintage tram passes Memphis's Orpheum Theatre Let's face it, if you're booking a holiday to the States, you're going to go with what you know. New York for shopping, Miami for beaches or LA to fellate fat old men for a part in "Days of Our Lives". But, according to maps, there's a whole other bit of the country no one goes to, so why not try somewhere different? Like Memphis.

Of course, if you're a music nerd, you'll already have considered this. After all, this is the place where WC Handy broke the blues, where a car crash created rock 'n' roll and where Elvis lived, ate heartily and died. If you fancy a musical pilgrimage, you won't be disappointed: Sun Studios is still in business, the upstairs housing the amp which broke after falling off Ike Turner's car, and is commonly held responsible for creating the distorted rock sound.

There's the Rock and Soul Museum, which takes you through 60 years of interactive music history. And let's not forget Graceland, which is even more ridiculous than you probably already think it is, though unfortunately, also more crowded (oh, and a little tip: while the throne on which The King passed away isn't signposted, you can just about see it in the en suite of the ground-floor bedroom at the end of the very first hallway).

With such an embarrassment of rock 'n' riches, it's not hard to see why Memphis advertises itself as the home of the blues, the birthplace of rock 'n' roll, but this sells the place short.

Memphis was also the cradle of the American civil rights movement and, ultimately, its grave. To its credit, the city doesn't shy away from advertising either. But that's probably because the two elements are so inextricably linked.

Sun Studios

Few places exemplify the fraternal relationship between the city's civil rights history and musical culture as well as the Stax Museum.

Housed in an exact replica of the Stax studios, where Isaac Hayes and Otis Redding recorded, the museum addresses the roots of Memphis's legendarily funky soul sound, and how the music was shaped by its environment. Stax's integrated workforce of musicians, writers and producers was seen as a radical progression even in the early 1960s.

Although the label has long since been liquidated, its legacy lives on. Proceeds from the museum go towards the upkeep of the Stax Academy across the street, an intensive college prep school for at-risk children.

As former Stax CEO Al Bell explains: "Soul music wasn't a black thing or a white thing, it was what happened when everyone got together. It was the fact we had bigger things to accomplish that kept us coming into this building working together every day and night."

This month marks the fortieth anniversary of the Stax UK tour. This was the first time the Stax label roster had travelled outside the US.

Sadly, it was also the label?s last hurrah. Within weeks of their return to Tennessee, Martin Luther King Jr was assassinated at the Lorraine Motel. King's assassination was the death of integration at Stax, and the death of Memphis in a way.

"That was the end for Stax," says Bell. That was when racism started coming into it, peoples attitudes got hardened, they didn't want to talk any more, people stopped trusting each other.?

Memphis's spirit never recovered, and its local economy and culture took a downturn. It wasn't until around 15 years ago that things started to pick up. Even today the place has the feel of a sunnier Sheffield, with pockets of new-build prosperity among the swathes of low-rise sprawl.

The Lorraine Motel has been converted into Memphis's world-class Civil Rights Museum, a comprehensive history of the run-up to and aftermath of desegregation. There's such a wealth of archive material, film footage, interviews and historical detail you'll need to allow at least a day to get round it.

Be warned: it will make you angry and frustrated with humanity, but there are few museums in the world you can honestly say will change your life, and this one of them.

Poignantly, the tour ends at the balcony where King was murdered.

Beale Street at night

Also recommended is a visit to Slavehaven. This converted townhouse was once a station on the underground escape route connecting a loose affiliation of safehouses, hiding spots and abolitionists who helped slaves flee to freedom. It is, as you might expect, enthralling and appalling in equal measure.

Seeing the adverts for slaves and the artefacts of their imprisonment is even more chilling than you'd imagine, but there's something inspiring and (almost) uplifting about the dedication of those involved, not to mention the stacks of fascinating historical minutiae? never will blanket patterns seem so interesting.

In the evening, once the learning's done, most tourists tend to stick to the blues bars of Beale Street. Once the only area of the city where African-Americans were permitted to operate businesses, Beale Street is now the home of a largely sanitised live blues scene. You hear blues of varying quality in pretty much every bar along the strip, along with encountering drunk people of every persuasion.

Predictably, there's, shall we say, less accomplished bluesmen working the strip, but local heroines Miss Nikki and Miss Zena are worth keeping an ear out for.

Beale Street isn't the only place in Memphis where you'll hear the blues. The city is studded with juke joints, sparse-looking bunkers where experienced house bands play for their regulars. The best of these is probably Wild Bill's (1580 Vollantine Avenue, TN 38107-2942), where the awesome Memphis Soul Survivors play three nights a week.

It's also available for hire for special occasions: worth remembering if you're thinking of doing something different for your birthday.

Courtesy Internet