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When a tour of the Jack Daniel’s Distillery is presented as a Nashville press trip option, it takes a nano-second to tick the appropriate box. Clearer information would have been useful, though — say, a warning that the trip involves a 6.30am wake-up and a 75-minute drive, and, most disturbingly, that no tasting of the product in question will be permitted. I was convinced that this hitch was somebody’s idea of a cruel joke, but I was wrong: Lynchburg, Tennessee, home of JD, is a dry county.

All of the above notwithstanding, our visit to the Jack Daniel’s Distillery proves to be a trip highlight.

En route to JD, we take a tree-lined freeway (legal limit 70 mph, definitely not observed by our vehicle) and listen to country on WSM Radio 95.5, home to the Grand Ole Opry broadcasts. We note with interest a sign for Lebanon, Tennessee — the namesake of a great song by Canada’s own Ron Sexsmith. Things get more scenic on the secondary roads, as we pass well-tended farms, plenty of horse stables, and the inevitable host of churches. Would have been nice to stop for the bluegrass gospel festival in Shelbyville, but we have a date with Jack.

Set attractively against a tree-covered hill, the distillery retains a real rustic charm. Some quarter-million visitors find their way here annually (“Our address is on the bottle,” notes operations manager Tammy). Here, we learn about both the distilling process for the famed Tennessee whiskey and the fascinating life of its creator. Jack Daniel (not Daniels) learned how to make whiskey at seven years of age; by the time he was 13, he was running the product down to Alabama. Lured by the perfect iron-free water of Cave Spring, he set up operations in Lynchburg in 1866, making JD the state’s oldest registered distillery.

Key to the JD taste is the charcoal mellowing process. The charcoal, created onsite, comes from hard sugar maples; every single drop of Jack is filtered through 10 feet of this charcoal, a process that takes six full days. JD is made with a combination of corn, rye and malted barley, we learn. Sadly, the plant is actually closed for maintenance during our visit — talk about bad timing becoming worse — but our informative guide Mark still takes us through the different production rooms. Production figures are high, with a million gallons of whiskey stored up the hill, but the facility retains a down-home ambiance. With some regret, we learn it’s no longer a family business, having been sold to Louisville’s Brown-Forman Corporation in 1956 for a bargain $20 million.

The closest we come to a taste here is when we are allowed to inhale vapors from one of the fermenting tanks. (Word is that a loosening of the laws to allow tastings may be coming soon. I bet they say that to all the tourists.) Most interesting fact learned: alcohol vapors released during whiskey-making create a black mold on nearby trees, a visual boon to lawmen out to bust moonshiners. We also learn you can buy a barrel of whiskey here (from $9K-12, depending on respective state taxes), entitling you to a plaque on the wall in the distillery. Names spied include Kevin Spacey, George Strait, and (no surprise) Mötley Crüe.

Coincidentally, our favourite band of the SoundLand fest, Jason Isbell and 400 Unit, had been spied passing around a bottle of JD onstage last night. Clearly aware of the rock ‘n roll connections with Jack Daniel’s, Mark tells me, “We never pay people to use our product.” Another fascinating fact learned is that our hero Jack stood just 5 ft 2 inches, and wore size 4 shoes. A statue of JD by our new favourite sculptor Alan LeQuire (see: Day One and Day Two) is fittingly situated in front of the spring here. This little man has left a big legacy.

A relaxing drive back to Music City follows, with seafood restaurant and raw bar Fish & Co. our lunch spot. My grilled mahi-mahi is tasty, but I regret not going for the fish tacos.

For the first time on our action-packed trip, we’re left somewhat to our own devices for the afternoon. Craving more live music, I head back to Germantown with our publicist Amanda. At the Neuhoff Factory Outdoor Party, they’re late in getting the music started. I score a couple of cool and cheap concert posters (Richard Thompson and Bottle Rockets), then slap myself as I prick up my ears and realize that the first act, Knoxville’s Royal Bangs, is one I’d walked out on after a couple of songs at The Horseshoe in Toronto earlier this year. Maybe it’s the friendly outdoors vibe here, but the band sounds a mite better now.

Time’s a ticking, so it’s back downtown for a self-guided tour of the one remaining must-see stop on a Nashville music tour: The Ryman Auditorium, unquestionably the city’s best-known concert venue. Termed “The Mother Church of Country Music” and designated an historic landmark, think of it as NV’s equivalent of Canada’s Massey Hall. The likes of Patsy Cline, James Brown and Bruce Springsteen have performed on this stage (Elvis Costello will play the venue tomorrow), and Neil Young’s 2006 concert film, Heart of Gold, was filmed here.

Round the corner, the Broadway strip is already rockin’. We make a quick stop at the legendary Ernest Tubb Record Shop (they still sell cassettes here!) for souvenirs and a couple of songs of fine live country music from Diane Berry and legendary guitarist Leon Rhodes.

Back at our hotel, we change for the Symphony. Our chief evening stop is at Nashville’s newish concert hall, the Schermerhorn Symphony Center. Built in a neo-classical style using the ‘box within a box’ concept, it boasts the highest-quality acoustics, as we discover firsthand (first-ear?). Grammy-winning classical CDs have already been recorded here. Built for $124 million (raised in part by selling private boxes for a cool mill apiece) and opened in 2006, it suffered an additional $40 million in damages in a news-making flood in May 2010. Talk about a wet blanket.

Prior to the performance, we indulge in a superb buffet in the Center’s Arpeggio restaurant. Over dinner, I have a fascinating conversation with Director of Communications Jonathan Marx who, it turns out, is an active member of long standing with internationally renowned local roots music collective Lambchop (soon to release a new album on Merge). Marx is vociferously grateful to Canadian labelmates Arcade Fire, as their success helps fund his group’s recording.

A similar mix of roots and classical is heard within the hall. The 85-piece Nashville Symphony is conducted by flamboyant Italian maestro Giancarlo Guerrero. The highlight of the evening is the appearance of banjo virtuoso Béla Fleck. we are very privilged (and lucky): A piece written for banjo and orchestra is given its world premiere tonight. To these ears, the unlikely fusion doesn’t quite convince; still, local hero Fleck earns deserved cheers for an encore that includes…the theme from The Beverly Hillbillies? Wow. Lest there was any doubt: No musical snobbery in Nashville!

Facing morning flights, most of my press colleagues wimp out of further musical action but, hell, how often do I get down to Music City USA? I trek back to 12th and Porter for some rock ‘n roll to round out SoundLand. I miss their name, but the first band I catch has a Mudhoney meets White Stripes feel. In the adjoining bar, a young Brit popster underwhelms. (Note to up-and-comers: Boasting to the discerning Nashville audience that you fared well in a music reality show filmed there? Not actually an ingratiating move.)

Back in the rock room, we catch highly-touted local act The Cadillac Black. Formerly of American Bang, the trio has a fiery and convincing Southern-inflected rock sound. At one point, the singer asks the crowd, “How many of you are from Nashville? A lot of people come in and out of this city. They’re floaters. We’re proud to be born and bred here!” They then rip into a set highlight, “Tennessee Mojo.”

Seems like a fitting note on which to end SoundLand, and my fourth and final night in Nashville. This ‘floater’ feels like he’s caught some Tennessee mojo here. Feels fine.

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Image courtesy of Kerry Doole.