Music

When tens of thousands of music fans visit Nashville June 6-9 for the Country Music Association’s annual CMA Fest, most of those attendees will see an artist — or two, or 10 — for the first time.

Surprisingly, those same artists may be meeting one of the musicians playing with them for the first time, too.

For all the uncertainties that fans and industry executives encounter during the festival, the instrumentalists carting their amplifiers and guitars through the Downtown footprint represent a sub-economy full of stress as they live out their musical dreams. Many of them work for multiple artists, sometimes picking up eight to 10 shows with as many as six different acts over the run of the festival. And in some instances, particularly on the smaller daytime stages, a musician could be appearing behind an artist they’ve never rehearsed with or even met.

“It was almost like a rite of passage,” says drummer Kayleigh Moyer, a Belmont University alumnus working this year with RaeLynn, Reyna Roberts and, quite likely, another artist or two who call at the last minute. “If you weren’t playing three or more shows during CMA Fest week, as a music major or musician — like, what were you doing?”

Plenty of artists at CMA Fest — particularly those booked during the nightly concerts at Nissan Stadium — have their own bands on salary. But the daytime stages feature a fair number of acts who haven’t reached that financial level and need to hire a band for the festival, which represents a chance to showcase for some of the genre’s most avid fans. Those artists are all drawing from the same local pool of players, and up-and-coming musicians have the potential to make extra cash.

“In a lot of other situations, these artists wouldn’t be cool with people taking multiple gigs on the same day,” says multi-instrumentalist Kyle Pudenz, who had RaeLynn and Zandi Holup on his calendar 10 days ahead of the festival, with space to take late requests. “But when it’s CMA Fest, they know that the pay is not really livable unless you are playing several shows. I’ve actually jokingly called CMA week ‘Musicians’ Black Friday’ for the past several years, because it’s finally the week of the year where you overcome the January/February dry spell.”

Artists famously play CMA Fest for free, introducing themselves to potential new fans, cementing their relationships with existing followers and generating revenue for the CMA Foundation, which donates proceeds to music education programs.

The musicians are compensated at a lower rate than usual, with the CMA paying $170 per performance this year, based on an agreement with the Nashville chapter of the American Federation of Musicians, AFM Local 257. In 2023, the CMA paid $120,800 to 617 musicians, according to AFM 257 president Dave Pomeroy, an average of $195 per musician.

That’s not necessarily the only income source for the week. Some artists who pay their bands higher rates will compensate them beyond the CMA’s $170 base. And there are a ton of “non-CMA” shows, including label showcases and open bars on Lower Broadway.

“Every artist that I [play with], I have to fill out separate paperwork for each,” says drummer Andrew Edmonds, playing this year with Hannah Ellis, Madeline Merlo, Tenille Arts and Carter Faith. “Some artists are really great, and they’re like, ‘We’ll compensate you for full-show pay.’ Or, you know, ‘This acoustic thing pays this.’ Each person is doing different payments for different things. I have no idea what I’m making.”

They might get paid for rehearsal, too, though not every act has one, especially since technology has introduced new options. Most acts employ click tracks that keep the tempo steady in the musicians’ in-ear monitors. Fill-ins can receive “charts” — sheet music that provides chord progressions and song structures  —  and board tapes from previous shows are now routinely available, providing an opportunity to rehearse at home with the artist’s actual concert performances. “That wasn’t as common 10 years ago, to get those before gigs,” Moyer says.

No matter what level of preparation they have, musicians can still count on having an unpredictable experience. Thus, the festival has numerous nicknames: the “CMA hustle,” according to Pudenz; a “throw-and-go,” per Moyer; or a “plug-and-pray,” as drummer Sarah Tomek puts it.

Tomek will back Chris Housman and Jenny Teator during official CMA shows and make non-CMA appearances at the weekly Whiskey Jam and in Lower Broadway events at Tequila Cowboy and Jason Aldean’s Kitchen + Rooftop Bar. 

Those CMA gigs are a tight-wire act. When one show ends, the next band has 15 minutes to set up on the same stage. That means plugging guitars into unfamiliar amps, praying the electronics all light up and setting in-ear monitor levels for each musician. Drummers have additional issues — most are in charge of a laptop with the click tracks and instrumental enhancements, and they have to play on a kit they’ve never used before, adjusting heights, angles and locations for cymbals, snares and toms.

“It probably takes you five minutes into the set to just settle down because you’ve made it, you’ve arrived, the sound check — everything’s working, we hope — and then you can kind of calm down,” Tomek says. “By the time you calm down, the set’s almost over. And then you’re on to the next one.”

Getting to the next one isn’t always easy. Most of the stages are within a block or two, but Nashville’s Downtown is hilly, the crowds can be massive, and once the day begins, the event never stays on schedule. Musicians have been known to text while onstage behind one artist to let the next artist know they’re running late.

“There’s really nothing you can guarantee,” says guitarist Tyler Cain, who works with pop artist Gavin DeGraw. In previous CMA Fests, he has played behind Meghan Linsey and Billy Currington, among others. “Not only are you hoping everything’s on time and works out, but you also may be jumping into a situation where you didn’t even have any rehearsal, or maybe you don’t even know the artist. Like, when you’re onstage for them, that’s the first time you’ve met them.”

The schedule tends to work itself out — “I’ve never missed a downbeat,” Moyer says — and adapting to the surprises as they come does have long-term benefits. “I think it makes you a better musician to put yourself in situations that you’re maybe a little scared,” Cain suggests. “Being able to deliver quickly, that’s a good skill to develop as a musician.”

The biggest skills revolve around overcoming weather. The heat index invariably tops 90 degrees during CMA Fest, and there’s typically a rain shower or two. “Music gear isn’t actually designed to work at that temperature,” Pudenz notes. “If your pedal board’s sitting directly in the sun, you might suddenly find that none of your stuff works when you plug it in.”

That goes for the human body, too. Tomek says she has “seen stars” while overheating in the middle of a CMA Fest set, though that doesn’t allow for any presentation shortcuts.

“You got to still look cool,” she says. “It’s not like you’re going to be wearing khaki shorts out there. You’re going to still be wearing your boots and your hat, and it’s like 100 degrees. It’s such an intense week for the cats down there.”

Grueling as it is, the musicians appreciate CMA Fest. They came to Nashville to play, and succeeding at the festival builds confidence that they can probably play through anything.

“At the end of the day, the music is the most important thing,” Edmonds says. “No matter what happens, you have to mentally block everything out and just be like, ‘All right, we’re doing this. This next 30 minutes, I’m here, and we’re going to crush it.’ ”