Ordinarily, Top Track Studios, a tidy commercial space situated in a business complex in South Nashville, would host just one big recording session at a time. But one weekend in November, every square inch of the place is abuzz with creative chaos.
Even in the small isolation booth, the utility closet and the hallway, beatmakers lean over their laptops, while vocalists wander around listening for tracks that inspire them to hop on the microphone.
This is ca.mp3, a freewheeling, weekend-long, music-making meetup. And it’s quite the production for one person — independent musician and producer Jack Vinoy. He spent the last four months preparing, and he’s now in host mode, checking new arrivals off his registration list, trying to memorize their names and giving them a quick tour of the facilities.
This wasn’t a function Vinoy envisioned for himself. He studied studio engineering at Belmont University, learning how the industry traditionally works from professors who’d occasionally have to rush off from class to record country stars. But it wasn’t until he got invited to a casual, group hip-hop session — one where A.B. Eastwood, Tim Gent and Chuck iNDigo were on hand — that he began making the connections he really wanted to make, well outside of Nashville’s established pathways.
“I didn’t know anybody before that,” Vinoy recalled. “And leaving that day, I had, like, 10 new, close friends that I ended up working with over the course of the next year.”
Vinoy wanted to create a setting where others with R&B and hip-hop leanings, but a lack of experience and connections standing in their way, could find the kind of creative camaraderie that he did. He settled on a thoroughly grassroots version of songwriting camps where professionals assemble to generate a lot of new material all at once.
‘We’re just trying to find our way‘
These coordinated, concentrated affairs have become a fairly standard tool in the publishing and recording sectors. Plenty of pop hits and TV and film soundtracks originate in camps held at scenic locations or in major music hubs. In Nashville, country songwriters have grown accustomed to the practice. But Vinoy was thinking of those with neither exposure nor access.
“The camps that I’m putting together,” he clarified, “I want people to see that that’s how a lot of the industry is operating. But I want it to feel not as rushed or as urgent. We’re just trying to find our way. It’s just about building community around the scene here and making sure we’re supporting each other.”
He held the first two editions at his house in 2022, packing in some 50 people while his roommates were out of town: “I mean, it was loud — loud and amazing.”
It was also beyond cramped, and he wanted to be able to accommodate everyone who was drawn to his Instagram posts about the gatherings — even if they lacked polished skills and previous experience. So he started renting out commercial studios and charging a modest $40 fee to cover the cost.
‘Everybody’s creative input is valued‘
At the seventh edition of ca.mp3, there are plenty of repeat attendees, like K.J., who gets regular work as a producer and engineer outside of the camp and recognizes what’s unique about it. “Jack insinuates a great culture around here,” he explained. “He creates an environment where everybody’s creative input is valued. I like being a part of something like that.”
Holed up in the next room is another producer, Disc2, who’s taken part in every camp to date. This time, that required traveling down from Chicago, where he recently relocated.
“I think what really draws me back, it’s going to be the community,” he said. “I think it goes back to that intent: I feel safe here.” Safe enough to branch out from his typical role constructing beats and recording vocalists to get out his flute and experiment.
There are lots of newbies running around too, including a trio of friends who hyped each other up to get past their insecurities and show up for this: Christanie Tyus, Mya Jackson and Ariana Hunter. “This is really my first time doing anything in the music production space in general,” said Tyus. “It’s just always been a hobby of mine that I’ve always wanted to get into.”
Jackson, too, had been “itching to get into somebody’s studio.”
The three start out working with Disc2, one tentatively singing a feathery neo-soul hook.
“Are you hearing what you want to hear?” the producer asks.
“Not really,” she responds with a shrug, “but we can move on.”
The others chime in, encouraging her to keep at it until she’s happy with the part she’s laid down.
The scene couldn’t be further removed from the culture of efficiency and productivity that Nashville’s long been known for as a recording center.
‘There’s no ego at the camps‘
An hour later, Hunter, Jackson and Tyus have moved to the tracking room to collaborate with a different crew. The engineer reaches toward the microphone and snaps his fingers. He was merely making sure the computer was receiving the mic’s signal, but it dawned on him that the gesture could seem disdainful to anyone unaccustomed to this process. He quickly reassured, “Oh, I wasn’t snapping at you,” eliciting relieved laughter.
“There’s no ego at the camps,” Vinoy observes later, “which I really appreciate. And it makes it so much more workable for creating stuff but also just, you know, being friends.”
He estimates that the campers, some of whom traveled from as far away as the Pacific Northwest, made some 40 songs together this time around. The weekend concluded with a beat battle and a song contest, a chance to share with each other the stylistic approaches they’re exploring. The track that received the most votes sparked a spontaneous dance party, and its creators won audio gear and software donated by audio companies.
But beyond that modest sponsorship, there’s no big company backing this and no expectation that anything will be done with the music made there. That’s all up to the campers. Participating producers have dropped entire mixtapes of ca.mp3 tracks.
To Vinoy, that’s a bonus: “It’s cool when people release stuff from the camps, but what I’m most excited about is that they continue to work with each other.”
That way, they won’t be alone in their pursuits.
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