The Drawl That Leaves Our Mouth
Reflecting on HeAthens Homecoming and being from the South.
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As Patterson Hood says on Southern Rock Opera, I grew up rebelling against the music of my high school parking lot — in my case, mostly mainstream country. The radio dial in my hometown of Pensacola offered country, classic rock, Jesus stuff, and not much else. Like many teenagers before and since, I chose classic rock.
The city of Athens, Georgia — where last week I spent five nights for the annual HeAthens Homecoming celebration — played a significant role in shaping my taste and my coolness. As a young teen, I attended an all-girls summer camp in nearby Clarkesville, called Athens YWCO Camp, which was somehow affiliated with the Young Women's Christian Organization in Athens.
While nominally a Christian institution, our camp was led by a Jewish lesbian, and the only church-y thing I remember doing is saying grace before meals. Very Athens. Rather than turn us into trad wives, the camp empowered us to be ourselves. I had a counselor who taught me about Doc Martens and the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, and I had Athens friends whose youth soccer team was sponsored by R.E.M.
It’s no mystery why Drive-By Truckers return to Athens every year as a “homecoming."
Once I became a camp counselor, I spent my nights off in Athens, trying to pretend I belonged while drinking coffee at Jittery Joe’s. Athens was the first place I felt like a grownup. I expanded my horizons to include Georgia music like Indigo Girls, R.E.M, The B-52s, and — much later — Elephant 6 bands like The Apples in Stereo and The Olivia Tremor Control.
Returning to Athens 30 years later felt warm and comfortable, and not just because I was surrounded by other Drive-By Truckers fans — though the community provided a deep sense of belonging. My mom and I were struck by how everyone we met in Athens was genuinely nice (not fake Southern nice) and authentically kind. Even the bartenders at 40 Watt Club were patient and kind. I suspect that a special alchemy occurs when Southern politeness intersects with liberal politics in a legendary music town.
It’s no mystery why Drive-By Truckers return to Athens every year as a “homecoming,” even though most of them don’t call Athens home anymore. I’m sure the hundreds of DBT fans who travel to Athens year after year know exactly what I’m talking about.
Like every time I visit the South, in Athens I automatically code-switched and let my Southern accent flow more freely, which also feels warm and comfortable. Although I don’t explicitly dampen my accent in New York, I tend to adopt the vocal stylings of the people around me. Many years ago, I met a man in a bar who claimed he could tell where anyone was from based on their accent. After speaking to me, he guessed Southern Alabama or Mississippi (although Pensacola is technically Florida, it is often called “lower Alabama,” and my mom grew up in Southern Mississippi), the midwest (I went to college in Chicago), with a little Wyoming — which really blew my mind, because at the time, I was married to a man from Wyoming.
Nancy Einhart
I didn’t realize I had a Southern accent until I went to college. People would ask where I was from, I’d say “Pensacola,” they would mention the movie Contact (IYKYK; I entered college in 1997), and they’d say some version of “I didn’t know people from Florida had Southern accents.” I quickly learned that my pronunciation was “weird” — words like “UMbrella” and “INsurance” — and that not everyone says “put it up” when they mean “put it away.”
I suspect that a special alchemy occurs when Southern politeness intersects with liberal politics in a legendary music town.
America has dozens of regional dialects, but people still regard Southern accents with caution. When folks in Athens asked where we were from, the question came from a place of curiosity, not judgment. When my mom visited me in Chicago or San Francisco, the question had a harsher edge.
What we think of as a Southern drawl is what linguists call the “Southern Vowel Shift,” which is how the word “time” becomes “tahme,” among other shifts. In a recent article in The Atlantic, Tennessee native Annie Joy Williams does her best to explain it in print, but I recommend listening to this interview to hear her demonstrate it:
I have stopped trying to lose my Southern accent, and I’ve also come to realize how comforting a Southern voice sounds to me. When I hear Mike Cooley speak, it reminds me of my mom’s brother Johnny, who has one of my favorite voices, and I love it when Patterson Hood incorporates little Southern turns of phrase in his lyrics.
I like to imagine that when Southerners like me and Patterson move to cities like New York or Portland — “where everyone takes notice of the drawl that leaves our mouth” — our accents remind people that not everyone from the South is a dumb hick or a racist asshole. And towns like Athens remind us that plenty of kind, warm, and liberal Southerners are fighting the good fight in often hostile territory.
Thank you to all of my fellow fans and travelers who descended upon Athens last week. As promised, the community felt familiar and welcoming, no hazing of newbies. Whether people were attending their second Homecoming or their 18th, they greeted us with openness, not exclusivity. I was especially impressed by the fan-driven daytime programming leading up to shows, especially the Sloan Brothers event and the Nuci's Space fundraiser.
A special shoutout to the Mundane Mayhem interview subjects I got to meet in person (Courtney, Glenn, and Ashley), not to mention the future Fan Mail interviewees. Thank you to the woman who asked if I was OK after a drunk man stumbled onto me. Holler to our new friends from the back left corner of the 40 Watt and all of the subscribers who came up to introduce yourselves. I’m so happy y’all are here. See you at the rock show!