Songwriter-singer/guitarist Nathan Bell toured the US and Canada throughout the '80s, playing at clubs, concert halls, and (as a member of the duo, Bell and Shore) most of the premier North American acoustic music festivals, including the Walnut Valley Festival, the Winnipeg Folk Festival, and the Mariposa Folk Festival. His work on acoustic, National steel-bodied, and electric guitars was often overshadowed by his songwriting, which is an amalgamation of ideas inspired by writers ranging from Jack London, William Faulkner, and the poet Marvin Bell to Townes Van Zandt and southern short-story master Larry Brown. He stopped touring in 1992 and with the arrival of his first child in 1995 left the business altogether to concentrate on raising a growing family. During the '80s Bell shared the stage with Emmylou Harris, Eddie and Martha Adcock, Stompin' Tom Connors, Townes Van Zandt, Kathy Mattea, Mary-Chapin Carpenter, Ricky Skaggs, and a whole cast of scofflaws and gypsies from the folk and bluegrass archipelago. During the early '90s he was a staff writer for Ten Ten Music in Nashville and was regularly featured at Nashville's Bluebird Cafe, often as part of the "writers in the round" series with many notable songwriters, including Grammy-Award winner Don Henry, Craig Bickhardt, and CMA award nominee Angela Kaset. In 1991, he recorded an album of songs with producer/guitarist Richard Bennett (Steve Earle, Emmylou Harris, Marty Stuart) that was never released. Nashville Scene- December, 2007 Bell's Jar Singer-songwriter Nathan Bell returns to Nashville with a wider view by Michael McCall Playing Wednesday, 28th at the Bluebird Cafe w/Danny Flowers, Don Henry and Joseph Wooten In Nathan Bell’s song “Manuel Jacket,” from his new album In Tune, On Time, Not Dead, the hard-nosed singer-songwriter recalls trying on an expensive jacket in the Nashville showroom of a famous designer and imagining how the spotlight would shine when it hit him. But Bell put the jacket back on the rack. He’d long fought any urge that smelled of compromise—no matter how heady the pull or how rich the possibilities. He didn’t trust his reasons for liking the way the jacket felt on his back. Thirteen years later, the incident serves as a metaphor for Bell’s short Nashville stint. Coming out of the ’80s with critical acclaim for his folk-rock duo Bell & Shore, the Mid-westerner moved to Nashville as a highly touted songwriter turned solo performer. Then as now, Bell’s work had a crisp literary quality, a tough blue-collar sensibility and a terse, muscular musicality. His songs sidled alongside Richard Thompson and Lou Reed as much as Steve Earle and Mark Germino—his two most common local comparisons. Nashville seemed like it could fit: It still had the glow of the ’80s, when big-time deals went to songwriters like Lyle Lovett, Mary Chapin Carpenter and the O’Kanes. Bell’s arrival drew plenty of attention, too. He signed with prestigious independent publishing company Ten Ten Music and went into the studio with hot producer Richard Bennett, who’d worked on breakthrough albums by Earle, Kim Richey, Marty Stuart and others. But Nashville took a different direction, and Bell found that trying to make it here felt like putting on that jacket. He could’ve tried what was necessary to cash in on the Nashville dream, but it didn’t quite fit. In 1994, he laid down his guitar, married his girlfriend and moved to Chattanooga, where he’s been working in corporate communications and raising a family. Earlier this year, he picked up the guitar and started writing songs again—furiously. In Tune, On Time, Not Dead reveals he’s as observant and nervy as ever, and he’s rocking more fiercely than ever. His guitar work takes him into Crazy Horse territory—he even offers an ode to his instrument in “1966 Telecaster”—while “What Did You Do Today?” makes a political statement that invites both sides of the divide to sing along, thanks to a wickedly melodic guitar riff. “Strike Up the Band” and “Big Bad Love”—the latter co-written with the late novelist Larry Brown—show he hasn’t lost any of his ability to cut to the quick. “There used to be a steel mill here / Now there’s nothing but moving along,” he sings in the former, which examines how Cleveland, like many Midwestern cities, has lost its industrial foundation. The latter is a leather-trimmed love letter to a woman who can bench press 203 pounds and likes her loving rough. But Bell’s decade of domesticity also works its way in—he’s too honest of a writer to act otherwise. Songs like “The Good Things” and “The Nest (Go Slow)” recognize how the comforts of family and big, good love can shield individuals from the world’s problems, but they also recognize that these qualities don’t make the world’s problems disappear. As before, Bell is indeed in tune, fully alive and capable of illuminating what good songwriters can help us see and feel. He may no longer be living on Nashville time—this appearance is his first time back onstage in Nashville in a decade—but his world has always had a wider view than that "He plays in tune and he always shows up on time." -- Keith Dempster (owner of The Mill, Iowa City, Iowa) Previous Work "L-Ranko Motel could very well be the best country record this year. And the songs -- polaroids of real moments, of people with nails cracked from hard work -- show that passion comes in many forms" Pulse Magazine- 1989 ""L-Ranko Motel," the second effort by the Iowa husband and wife team of Nathan Bell and Susan Shore, is one of those increasingly rare finds: an unpretentious, unified set of literate and witty songs, impeccably performed. It's fairly bursting with soulful country rock worthy of comparison to such classic pairings as Richard and Linda Thompson or Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris. Bell's songs rove all over the prairie, ranging from wistful ballads like "Blue Is the Color of Regret" to triple-speed toe tappers like "The Day Crazy Bobby Ran the Dirt Track in the Nude." Peopled with drinkers and fighters, lovers and flings, these carefully drawn tales are united by a strong sense of character, story and emotion... Rolling Stone-Magazine 1989 .