This
is not your typical songwriter from Nashville, or from anywhere else, for
that matter. A self-described "beauty school drop out," Neal Coty hails from
the "Pink Flamingos" capital of the universe, Baltimore. Well, actually he
was raised in the wilds of western Maryland, 20 minutes from Harper's Ferry,
West Virginia, where madman abolitionist John Brown foreshadowed the Civil
War by storming the U.S. military arsenal 138 years ago. He also lived in
Los Angeles, where aspiring actress Peg Entwhistle said, "Goodbye cruel world"
by leaping from the Hollywood Sign in 1932. Dark and bloody Memphis has his
footprints. Then there's New Orleans, that swamp town where you wander for
days soaked in alcohol. Or at least he did. New York? Yes, he did time there,
too.
"Tommy Mottola listened to my tape at Sony, " Coty recalls. "He said, 'Did you write these songs in a garage? Of course you did. And you should stay there.' At Atco, they came down to the studio and went, 'I don't know about these words. It would be great if you could be like Bryan Adams.' At MCA, the Japanese said, 'Neal Coty sing rock-pop-country. Too many words. Not enough chorus. No place in the market. Thank you very much.' They passed. I went, 'Man, I am going to have to get a job!?' So I came to Nashville.
In a small community like Music City, someone like Neal Coty is hard to miss. In that songwriting mecca, folks fell for his fevered imagination and the flushed, rushed urgency of talent that won't sit still. Neal Coty talks in a blur. He is an electric porcupine of goofy, neurotic enerby bursting for release. If he's not the village idiot, he just might be a genius.
One thing's for certain. Neal Coty is an amazing story teller. Ask him about his starring role in a Mexican beer commercial. Get him to tell you about the time he found out he was adopted. There's a story about going to beauty school and becoming a licensed cosmetologist at Montgomery Ward. On a good day, he can just barely remember the six years he spent drinking, doing drugs and committing petty crimes. He can babble on and on about the Baltimore Orioles.
At one Maryland nightclub he became the resident opening act, an acoustic solo troubadour who had to entertain the crowds who came to see Concrete Blond, The Tragically Hip, Tanya Tucker of Diving For Pearls. What would you do? On rough nights, Neal Coty invited a paranoid schizophrenic buddy to share the stage, or an x-rated clown who blew up balloons in the shape of genitalia.
There are a bunch of stories about his days as a theater major in college, productions of The Crucible and 'Tis a Pity She's A Whor. Ask him about going to his Mercury audition dressed like a bum. Ask him about working at a country radio station. Ask him about being a "recovering Lutheran."
Better yet, listen to his songs. You are going to love these songs. You are also going to love this man. You've never met anyone like him before, but you're going to love him. Trust us on this one.