The sign outside the festival grounds at Freely Fest in Nashville read like a provocation: Freedom of Speech. My Favorite. The one-day event, held in celebration of First Amendment rights and the power of music, had drawn crowds from across the country. But before anyone took a proper stage, the real action was happening outside in Freely Fest Village — on the pavement, in front of strangers, with a second microphone waiting for whoever was brave enough to take it.
The premise was stripped down to its bones. No auditions. No criteria. One question: ‘Will you sing a song with me?’ The host, Reggie, made clear from the start that he was not searching for polished performers. ‘I’m not looking for talent,’ he said. ‘I’m looking for bravery.’
What Woody Guthrie Knew About a Sign That Said No Trespassing
The first taker was a visitor who had come to Nashville on what he called a pilgrimage to guitar heaven. He knew exactly which song he wanted: ‘This Land Is Your Land’ — but specifically the verse most people skip. The verse about the sign. ‘On the other side it didn’t say nothing,’ he explained before they started, walking through the history of Woody Guthrie writing the song as a pointed response to ‘God Bless America’ during a period when people across the country were suffering and hungry. The song, he noted, was softened over the years — the original title had been more direct — but the meaning survived. When the two of them reached that verse in the middle of the street, the words landed differently than they do in a classroom. After the last chorus, he was still smiling. ‘I could only have dreamed of such an honor,’ he said.
Bri, a songwriter originally from Chicago who had relocated to Nashville about a year prior, came forward next. She performed an original called ‘Love Space,’ which she said grew out of a beat a producer sent her that felt like world healing. Her son, ten years old, was her reason for writing at all. ‘I want my child to never have to want for nothing,’ she said. She had not sung in front of a crowd in over a year. By the time she finished, she was already thinking about getting back out and doing it more.
Mark Maniti wandered up without hesitation. A piano player from New York City with seventy years of R&B, funk, and soul behind him, he requested ‘Certain Girl’ by Ernie K-Doe and delivered an authoritative case for why Nashville needed to pay more attention to New Orleans. He mentioned that his father had smashed his radio when he caught him listening to Motown. A dyed-in-the-wool Southern Italian, his father believed that kind of music was a downfall. Mark had a gig lined up for the following weekend when he returned home. When asked how often he had busked on the street, he paused. ‘This will be my first time,’ he said. After the song ended, he declared himself ready to go do the gig.
The Sister Who Got Pushed Forward Before She Was Ready
Mickey did not volunteer herself. Her sister introduced her — ‘She’s super nervous. She’s going to be so mad I’m doing this’ — and then pushed her toward the microphone anyway. Mickey’s response to the song list was candid: ‘I’m not a singer.’ When Reggie offered to take a microphone alongside her, she agreed. The two sisters ended up performing Hozier’s ‘Take Me to Church’ together in the middle of Freely Fest Village. Mickey said she was going to throw up before they started. After the last note, she said it had been so much easier than she expected. Her sister summed up the arc: ‘We went from being like, Mom, watch this — to Freely Fest, watch this.’
The afternoon closed with a few more impromptu performances in front of a large outdoor sound installation, including a second song with Joe, someone Reggie had met the day before in Nashville. The concert inside the main venue ran that evening, but the day’s most unguarded moments had already happened out on the pavement.
Mark’s Hands Still Moving After the Song Ended
Mark Maniti, seventy years into playing piano, finished ‘Certain Girl’ still keeping rhythm with his fingers against the side of his leg — the way musicians do when the music stops but the body hasn’t caught up yet. He had never busked before. He did it on a sidewalk in Nashville on a warm afternoon without a hat out for tips, just for the plain reason that the song was there and someone asked.
Back at the sign that started it — Freedom of Speech. My Favorite — the afternoon had done exactly what the pavement version of a festival tends to do. It filled in the space between performances with something that didn’t need a stage. The second microphone was always waiting. Most people just needed someone to hand it to them.
