At least since the rise of the "Nashville sound" in the 1950s, Tennessee's capital city has attracted numerous books and articles offering insight into the celebrity machine known as Music City. But behind the artist in the limelight are a host of support personnel and contributors who shape the artist's music. Of these myriad occupations within the music industry, only two have received significant attention: executives at the major labels and elite songwriters who have forged a path to the top of the charts. In Making Music in Music City, sociologist John Markert compiles and assesses more than one hundred interviews with industry professionals whose roles have been less often examined: producers, publishers, songwriters, management, studio musicians, and more. The book naturally pivots around the country music industry but also discusses Nashville's role in other forms of modern music, such as rock, Christian, and rap. Markert's in-depth interviews with key music professionals provide a fresh perspective on the roles of critical players in Nashville's music industry. This book sheds light not only on the complexities of the industry and the occupational changes taking place but on the critical role of those who work behind the scenes to shape the music that ultimately reaches the public. Through firsthand accounts, Making Music in Music City analyzes just what it takes to create, produce, and disseminate the Nashville sound.

A star par excellence, Dolly Parton is one of country music's most likable personalities. Even a hard-rocking punk or orchestral aesthete can't help cracking a smile or singing along with songs like "Jolene" and "9 to 5." More than a mere singer or actress, Parton is a true cultural phenomenon, immediately recognizable and beloved for her talent, tinkling laugh, and steel magnolia spirit. She is also the only female star to have her own themed amusement park: Dollywood in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. Every year thousands of fans flock to Dollywood to celebrate the icon, and Helen Morales is one of those fans. In Pilgrimage to Dollywood, Morales sets out to discover Parton's Tennessee. Her travels begin at the top celebrity pilgrimage site of Elvis Presley's Graceland, then take her to Loretta Lynn's ranch in Hurricane Mills; the Country Music Hall of Fame and the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville; to Sevierville, Gatlinburg, and the Great Smoky Mountains National Park; and finally to Pigeon Forge, home of the "Dolly Homecoming Parade," featuring the star herself as grand marshall. Morales's adventure allows her to compare the imaginary Tennessee of Parton's lyrics with the real Tennessee where the singer grew up, looking at essential connections between country music, the land, and a way of life. It's also a personal pilgrimage for Morales. Accompanied by her partner, Tony, and their nine-year-old daughter, Athena (who respectively prefer Mozart and Miley Cyrus), Morales, a recent transplant from England, seeks to understand America and American values through the celebrity sites and attractions of Tennessee. This celebration of Dolly and Americana is for anyone with an old country soul who relies on music to help understand the world, and it is guaranteed to make a Dolly Parton fan of anyone who has not yet fallen for her music or charisma.

In August 1967, "Ode to Billie Joe," a B-side throwaway performed by a total unknown, knocked the Beatles' "All You Need is Love" out of the Billboard chart's top slot. Listeners obsessed over the mysteries ensnarled in the song's haunting refrain: Billie Joe McAllister jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge. Why did Billie Joe kill himself? Is he the narrator's secret lover? Fans also wanted to know: Who is this glamorous young woman who could boil air with just a parlor guitar and voice low as the Mississippi moon? That is a mystery as deep as the Tallahatchie's rushing water. Less than 10 years after bursting onto the world's stage with an album that scored an unprecedented trifecta on the Pop, Country and Black charts, the woman born Roberta Lee Streeter vanished from the spotlight. This much we know: Gentry was an artistic polymath and astute businesswoman. After "Ode," she wrote more music, DJed a radio program, hosted a TV show and started her own publishing company. Disenchanted with the record business, she produced spectacular Las Vegas shows, writing the music, choreographing the routines and designing the costumes. But despite working herself to exhaustion, Gentry was unable to replicate the commercial sales of her debut, and she disappeared. Bobbie Gentry has not been seen in public for over 30 years. With unprecedented access to a treasure trove of Gentry's memorabilia, Murtha excavates the mysteries of "Ode to Billie Joe," in terms of both the record's production and the effect of its success on Gentry. With input from the artist's collaborators and contemporaries, Murtha argues that though Gentry has every right to vanish, her role as a pioneering woman in the music industry should not.

In her provocative new book Rednecks, Queers, and Country Music, Nadine Hubbs looks at how class and gender identity play out in one of America's most culturally and politically charged forms of popular music. Skillfully weaving historical inquiry with an examination of classed cultural repertoires and close listening to country songs, Hubbs confronts the shifting and deeply entangled workings of taste, sexuality, and class politics. In Hubbs's view, the popular phrase "I'll listen to anything but country" allows middle-class Americans to declare inclusive "omnivore" musical tastes with one crucial exclusion: country, a music linked to low-status whites. Throughout Rednecks, Queers, and Country Music, Hubbs dissects this gesture, examining how U.S. provincial white working people have emerged since the 1970s as the face of American bigotry, particularly homophobia, with country music their audible emblem. Bringing together the redneck and the queer, Hubbs challenges the conventional wisdom and historical amnesia that frame white working folk as a perpetual bigot class. With a powerful combination of music criticism, cultural critique, and sociological analysis of contemporary class formation, Nadine Hubbs zeroes in on flawed assumptions about how country music models and mirrors white working-class identities. She particularly shows how dismissive, politically loaded middle-class discourses devalue country's manifestations of working-class culture, politics, and values, and render working-class acceptance of queerness invisible. Lucid, important, and thought-provoking, this book is essential reading for students and scholars of American music, gender and sexuality, class, and pop culture.