nashville queer folk fest
[Photo by Andrea Schollnick]

LGBTQ+ artists in Nashville are carrying on the city's folk tradition now more than ever

Welcome to Scene Report where we highlight significant, underground scenes and subcultures across the globe.

“When I was growing up, I had this idea of what a country music fan looked like. There was my idea of the people who listen to country, and then there were the gay and queer people over there in the other corner,” says Jobi Riccio, a Colorado-born Americana-country singer now based in Nashville. “I knew that I fit into both of those categories and felt like I needed to pick one or the other — that it could never be both.” 

“I could have never, ever imagined that now, at 24, I would be standing in front of crowds of all queer people wearing Western wear, playing queer country nights that feel like the most affirming community homecoming — like I am amongst family.”

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Even as conservative Tennessean lawmakers continue to organize around anti-LGBTQ+ bills, there’s no silencing this growing scene of queer artists. From the gay honky tonk group that have joined the old guard at theEast Nashville American Legion for two step on Tuesdays to the folk-punk acts that bring down Basement East, and the thriving singer-songwriter community sharing their stories, LGBTQ+ musicians in Nashville are beaming the city’s longstanding tradition of country, folk, and Americana storytelling through their own unique lens. 

queer folk fest nashville

[Photo by Andrea Schollnick]

“I’ve been in Nashville for over 10 years, and the queer scene there has changed so much over my time there,” shares Haley Grant, once lead singer of indie-folk duo the Harmaleighs, now front-person of her solo project, Louise. “I came out right when I moved here, and my friends and I would go into a couple of gay places that almost felt desolate. Lipstick Lounge would be like three people, and they were probably 50 year old lesbians,” Haley laughs. 

Spaces existed for gay people to gather, but a decade ago, Nashville was nowhere near as progressive of a place for queer people to thrive, let alone for LGBTQ+ musicians to prosper professionally. 

Becca Mancari, Americana-turned-indie-rock favorite on Captured Tracks Records, looks back on the challenges they faced while establishing themselves within the industry. They say, “When I moved here 10 years ago, it was absolutely a risk to be who I was. I faced a lot of opposition, and especially struggled to find a home in a label. People in Americana didn’t know what to do with me. It wasn’t cool to be gay in that world yet.”

Change was gradual. Mancari recalls starting up a series of nights where femme artists would gather in their living room, sharing songs and swapping stories. There were bonfires, small showcases at Lipstick Lounge, and longing glances across bars and studio sessions. Slowly but surely, queer people in the Southern stronghold were finding one another, realizing there was more space in the city than ever before.

queer folk fest nashville

[Photo by Andrea Schollnick]

“I specifically remember the first in-person show that I ever put on, which was a house concert in my friend’s backyard,” Sara Gougeon, founder of Nashville’s Queerfest, says, smiling as she recollects the memory of the organization’s 2020 inception. “I booked four amazing artists. It was this intimate, outdoor show. I got twinkly lights and I brought my house plants across town to make it really cute.” 

“There was this energy that felt like magic, like exactly where I’m supposed to be and I knew at that moment that I needed to keep building this, whatever it was.”

Since that backyard show, Queerfest has exploded: Along with monthly showcases at Vinyl Tap, the organization held its inaugural city-wide festival last summer with a lineup of 14 artists that took over The 5 Spot, The Groove, and The Basement East, and 2023’s festival is slated for August 12, 2023.

Queerfest has seen artists not only meet each other, but create music and even go on tour together. As is the case of indie-folk artists Purser and Cassidy Maude, who solidified their friendship at a Queer Fest showcase and later embarked on an eight-stop 2022 summer tour from Nashville to Charlottesville, VA. To have such an established hub for the scene has expanded the songwriting community in Nashville in ways that didn’t exist before. 

“I’ve made friends … I think I even met one of my ex-partners at a Queerfest event,” shares folk-singer Liv Greene with a laugh. “I love the fact that you can meet people and write with them after the event — and then also fall in love a little bit. So many things are blossoming from these spaces.”

queer folk fest nashville

[Photo by Andrea Schollnick]

As a less integrated city, the queer scene in Nashville exists solely out of its own volition. Not only are events and spaces like Queerfest, the RNBW Queer Music Collective, the monthly underground parties series Dress Code, and QDP (Queer Dance Party) fun — they’re vital. 

“For miles this is the biggest city, so there is sort of like a driving queer undercurrent,” says Joy Oladokun, a queer singer-songwriter whose music spans the genres of folk, R&B, rock, and pop, of Nashville’s role as a Southern safe haven. 

It’s beautiful to see crowds at these events in Nashville that mix both queer culture and that of the city itself. Arms tattooed with Dolly Parton bump to Doja Cat and Charlie XCX at QDP, while bolo ties and cowboy hats become a surprising accessory to any outfit among Dress Code attendees. There’s strength not only in reclaiming western wear, but in gathering, partying, and celebrating together.

Even so, Nashville is a safe haven that is under constant threat. Tennessee’s recent passing of legislation that bans drag — “adult cabaret performances” in public or in the presence of children, more specifically — in addition to legislation that blocks transgender minors from receiving gender-affirming care prove that there’s all the more need for queer visibility across the city, the state, and the Americana genre. 

Nashville might get a bad rep for all the “bro country,” but the true heart of the city is great songs and even better songwriting. Cast aside the imagery of throwing back beers, riding on tractors, and inane portrayals of women — and replace the lyricism with sapphic love affairs, tales of grief and heartbreak, confrontations of dysmorphia, and other stories of growing into one’s identity and otherness.

“I feel like music for me as a Black queer person on this planet is a really powerful form of nonviolent protest, as long as it’s vulnerable,” says Oladokun. “Life gets frustrating, even scary, sometimes, and I think the only thing that I have ever felt like it ever makes sense is just to say, “I am here. I am me.”” 

Americana artist Olivia Barton agrees: “I am writing about my life and my life happens to look queer, but I’m not necessarily trying to make a statement in most of my music. I find that the way that I can best make a statement is just to be honest without thinking about what I’m saying.” 

queer folk fest nashville

[Photo by Andrea Schollnick]

From the quiet balladry of Liv Greene’s acoustic folk to the shimmering pop from Olivia Barton, the portrait-of-life writing in Joy Oladokun’s folk-and-R&B-influenced songs, the Americana leanings of Becca Mancari’s indie-rock, and Jobi Riccios’s bluegrass upbringing — plus artists like Zach Day, Jake Wesley Rogers, Autumn Nicholas, Fancy Hagood, and so many more — Nashville is becoming home to a truly progressive music scene, allowing LGBTQ+ musicians the opportunity to forge alliances and make life-affirming connections. 

“In some spaces, I feel like I’m not queer enough — so straight passing that sometimes it feels like I don’t fit in. I have found that the community in Nashville feels particularly inviting to queer people of all stages of queerness and self expression,” says Barton. “I have my queer friends to thank for helping me lighten up and love myself — obviously through their music, but mostly just through their company.”

Becca Mancari puts it best: “I am so thankful for this city and for the fact that the community is strong — and will grow even stronger still.”