Mac McAnally talks about 8 CMA wins, new solo record, longtime friendship with Jimmy Buffett
It's tough to imagine Mac McAnally bragging about his accomplishments, taking photos with a selfie stick or obsessively detailing his life on social media.
You won't find him hogging the spotlight, posing for the paparazzi or dusting off the awards in a narcissistic trophy room.
For this Alabama native -- a true musician's musician -- modesty makes the man. That's one reason McAnally, 58, has earned the admiration and respect of his peers. Of course, there's also his formidable skill set as a songwriter, guitarist, singer, producer and session player.
McAnally is a solo artist with a dozen albums to his credit, mostly of the folk variety. He's also a longtime member of Jimmy Buffett's Coral Reefer Band, playing Margaritaville pop and country with the barefoot maestro in cities all over the world.
"I'm really blessed to get to do what I do for a living," McAnally says.
Since he won't boast, we'll have to do it for him, noting his jaw-dropping winning streak with the Country Music Association. For the past eight years, McAnally has scooped up the CMA Award for Musician of the Year, besting nominees such as Sam Bush, Jerry Douglas, Paul Franklin and Dann Huff.
He also has an impressive knack for writing country hits, crafting songs recorded by artists ranging from Kenny Chesney to Shenandoah.
On April 1, McAnally comes to Birmingham for a concert at the WorkPlay theater, his first solo date here since 2007. He'll showcase tunes from a new album, "AKA Nobody," and delve into a catalog that stretches back to 1977.
On April 19, he'll perform with Buffett and the Coral Reefers at Oak Mountain Amphitheatre in Pelham, as part of the "Workin' n' Playin'" tour.
During a recent phone interview, McAnally displayed a self-deprecating sense of humor, answering questions about his CMA dominance, his freshly minted record, his fashion sense, his pal Jimmy and more.
Q: After eight straight CMA wins, some folks might say you own the category of Musician of the Year. Do you feel that way?
A: No, I continually demand a recount for every one I get. And I feel compelled to call myself out, every time I make a mistake during a studio recording session. I'll stop and say, "Let's do one more for the Musician of the Year."
Q: Tell us what it feels like to hear your name called at the CMA pre-ceremony, where the Musician of the Year award is given. It must be getting easier, heading up to the podium in your tuxedo.
A: I'm always awkward in public, and I'm always awkward in a jacket. I'm always sitting with my friends, and they're the other nominees. I have a lot of respect for those guys. I also have respect for the folks who voted. They're musicians, so this is not just a popularity contest. ... I keep waiting for someone to tap me on the shoulder and say I have to give the other ones back. But all I can do is try my best. If I win, it just makes me want to try harder.
Q: In the past, you've talked about keeping your songwriting awards, platinum records and other accolades tucked out of sight. Is that still the case? You haven't created a Mac McAnally trophy room in your house?
A: I appreciate all these things, but I don't want them to have anything to do with what I do next. I want a blank slate when I play my next session or sit down to write a song. For me, looking at the achievements can give me an unrealistic boost. I'm proud of all of them, but I just want to try to get better. Every day, I want to be a little bit better. I want to be a better friend or neighbor or ex-husband. I don't want a massive ego that needs to be popped.
Q: You've also said your life is split among three places: Nashville, the road and your house and studio in the Shoals. Is the three-way split still intact? Have the time percentages changed in each place?
A: The percentages do change, but it's been kind of an organic change. The road has grown, from about a third of my time to close to half. I have three daughters who all live in Nashville, and my time has been skewed there. That way, I get to spend time with my kids. Muscle Shoals is a little more about work for me, and I believe the work benefits. If I have control of a project, I try to go to Muscle Shoals. And it's not just me — the music likes to be there, too.
Q: You've been a professional musician since your teen years. How does it feel to look back now, at age 58?
A: I've been doing this for a long time, and if you were to look at it logically, at a music career, mine should be over. I say that in a similar sense to athletics — it's kind of a young man's game. I'm blessed that music is my passion and not football. I get to chase my favorite thing, all over the globe. I'm still just as lit up by music as I ever was.
Q: The title of your new solo record, "AKA Nobody," might surprise some listeners, but longtime Mac fans know that humility is important to you. Did you choose the title as a mission statement?
A: Well, maybe a little. I'm a William Faulkner fan, and one of the things he said during his life was that he wished the artist's work, not the artist, would be judged. As I was growing up, I remember reading that from him, and it was impressive. I would say that the Dalai Lama, William Faulkner and I co-wrote the title. But it comes as much from my parents as anything. If your natural mindset is less centered on the self, just the math of that frees up the time to be of service to others. There's nothing better you can do for yourself. My parents taught me that.
Q: On the record, you cover Jesse Winchester's "Mississippi You're On My Mind." That also seems like a personal statement, paying homage to the state where you grew up.
A: I'm actually lobbying for "Mississippi You're On My Mind" to be the state song, instead of "Go, Mississippi," the current state song. (laughs) I think it's a much better choice. It's also the only song on one of my studio albums that I didn't write. I produced Jesse's last studio album, and now that he's gone, I've sort of taken on the job of lobbying to keep his work alive.
Q: Since you were born in Alabama, how about a song for our state on the next record? Fans here like to claim you, as well.
A: I scrabble the state line, all the time. I grew up in Belmont, Miss., but I'm an Alabama native because that's where the doctor's office was, in Red Bay. It's the same doctor's office where Tammy Wynette was born. She was from Tremont, Miss.
Q: In the liner notes for another song on the album, "Don't Remember Leaving," you talk about being a Mississippi boy in Singapore, feeling a long way from home. And you say: "I carry a little small town with me everywhere." Do you still carry that small town when you travel?
A: When my first record came out at 19, I kind of wore my grandfather's overalls all the time, to know where I was on the map. At this point in my career, I'm less uncomfortable with the idea of being away from home. And I'm able, with the miracle of self-deprecation, to talk about my work.
Q: You cover a lot of stylistic territory on the new record, and take a few risks. "Zanzibar," for example, is reminiscent of jazz or vintage swing. How does that happen to a country-folk songwriter?
A: That song just came into my head. Jimmy Buffett said, "You know, the most amazing thing to me about that song, I know you were sober when you wrote it." I'm a fan of Django Reinhardt, and that was a little wishful thinking there, trying to play like he did.
Q: Another first: Your three daughters sing harmony vocals on "Zanzibar." Did you line them up in the studio and say, "OK, ladies, hit it"?
A: That was a dirty trick, really. I wanted it to sound sort of like the Andrews Sisters, so I brought them in separately to record, and that's how I got them to do all the parts. They didn't what I was doing. Parents don't often get to trick their children like that, so I'm kind of proud of it.
Q: One of the most poignant songs on the record is "With a Straight Face," which calls for greater acceptance of gay people, and does so in a storytelling format. What does that song mean to you?
A: That song means a lot to me. I try not to be a spokesman for anything, but I have a heart for the underdog. I truly have compassion for anybody I deem to be oppressed in any way. I have a heart for minorities in the South. I was born into a family that has the least amount of natural prejudice I've ever seen, and Southern people, in all of my travels, are the most open-hearted, kind, considerate members of the general population. But we still have prejudice here.
As it turns out, a couple of my friends that I grew up with happen to be gay. Part of being a songwriter is putting yourself in other people's positions and seeing how you could improve the way you dealt with them. With this song, I'm telling myself to be more considerate, not just to gay people but to all people. I'm saying: Let's err in favor of compassion. I like going to sleep at night and not hating people.
Q: When you mention the idea of putting yourself in someone else's shoes, it's easy to think of Atticus Finch in Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird." Did that book have any influence on your songwriting approach?
A: Actually, the idea mostly comes from my dad. He was a schoolteacher, and that's how I saw Atticus Finch. My dad was tall, handsome and extremely articulate. He was almost always the smartest guy in the room, but he didn't give anybody the impression that he was.
Q: What's the reaction been like when you've performed "With a Straight Face" in concert?
A: So far I've only played that song once at a live performance. It was a Nashville crowd, and it got a standing ovation. When people stand up and clap, you know a song resonates in some way. People tell me that they're moved,. I got a text that told me somebody had converted it into a sermon. That was totally unexpected. I also hope that someone — a Katy Perry, a Pink, a Lady Gaga or a Beyonce — will take that song and record it. That way, it could really impact some folks. I haven't played many live shows since the record came out, but I'll play it in Birmingham.
Q: Do you have a setlist prepared for the concert here? Will you take requests from fans?
A: I have a general framework, and I enjoy the crowd leading me in a certain way. I have a set list from which we will depart.
Q: We don't want to jinx you, but have you ever forgotten the lyrics to one of your songs? Your memory bank has to hold 12 albums' worth of solo material, plus the Buffett catalog.
A: When I was younger, I used to say that if I couldn't remember my songs, I didn't have a right to perform them. But I don't say that anymore. At this point on stage, if I forget the lyrics, I just make up some other goofy lyrics. Or I look at the audience and let someone else sing the lyrics for me. That way, we have a lasting connection, that person and me. You know my song lyrics and you just saved my butt.
Q: Some musicians say muscle memory kicks in when they perform, so remembering the music is different from recalling the lyrics. Does that ring true for you?
A: I think music and memory are connected in ways we haven't discovered yet. Take my friend Glen Campbell, who has Alzheimer's. My dad had Alzheimer's and Jimmy Buffett's dad had Alzheimer's, so it's an important issue for both of us. Periodically, we get together and play music with Glen. He might not remember a lot of things, but put a guitar in his hand and the play intro to "Wichita Lineman," and he can play the whole song. I think music that burns early in your life is some of the last memories you'll have.
Q: You'll perform at WorkPlay more than two weeks before the show with Buffett at Oak Mountain. In the past, you've scheduled your Mac show very close to the Buffett show, sometimes one day beforehand. Have your ideas about timing changed?
A: My role has grown when the Coral Reefer Band is on tour. Four or five of us have a recording rig out there in the hotel room, and I find myself working in some respect for Buffett on the off days. If I'm playing a solo show that night, I can't give Jimmy Buffett everything he needs from me on an off day. It's just better this way for his tour; he gets all the attention from the Coral Reefers. And the solo show is better if I don't just run out of a hotel room with a guitar.
Q: Tell us more about what it's like to work with Jimmy Buffett.
A: My role with Buffett has expanded as our friendship has expanded. He's been a supporter from way back, and I support him. When he's doing a show, he thinks about his show more than anything. He has a family and a business and everything else, but Jimmy's show, I think, is the most important thing in his life.
Because I get up early and he knows it, we'll be talking about the Birmingham setlist way in advance. "I want to play this; where does it fit in?" I'm more of a finish carpenter with a long attention span. Jimmy has a very short attention span, so we have a great working relationship.
Q: It's rare to see a photo of Jimmy Buffett on stage wearing shoes. Usually, it's just shorts and a T-shirt. Does he ever wear shoes when he performs?
A: He pretty much won't play in shoes. When we did Jazz at Lincoln Center, he wore a jacket and no shoes. He likes to play barefoot.
Q: Can you stand another fashion question? Even for summer festival dates, when it's boiling hot, you seem pretty covered up. Do you ever wear shorts as a Coral Reefer?
A: I usually wear long sleeves and long pants with Buffett. Again, I'm worshipful of my dad, who was fair-skinned. I wear shorts when I play golf, and the other mediocre golfers can suffer through it.